know how to feel. They’ll be bringing counselors to talk to any of us who want next week,” Britney said. “We’re happy, of course, but we’re sad. The whole town is, like, torn apart. We were destroyed that Maureen was dead. But now that it’s really Bridget who is dead, we have to live through this all over again. It’s not just their families. It’s all of us. This is a tragedy and a mir acle for a whole town.”
“In a moment we’ll hear from one of the paramedics
who was on the scene that night, in this strange and heart breaking case of two young Minnesota girls. Friends and families mourned at Christmas for Maureen O’Malley, only to learn after eight weeks that the girl who died was not Maureen but her best friend, Bridget Flannery. We’ll be back after the break.”
“Bug,” said Maureen.
“Oh, Maury,” said her mother. “Oh, sweetheart. Of course you didn’t know.”
But she had known.
Some part of her had known Bridget was dead.
Some part of her had reached out, and Bridget was not there. To hear them say it, though, that was different. She didn’t want to die—already did that. But live without Bridg et? Never hear Bridget call her and say, “I have the most disgustingly exciting news.” Bridget, her other self, who knew things about Maury no one would ever know, who she needed now more than ever. Maureen began to breathe harder. It was as though she couldn’t grab enough air.
She heard a murmur, felt a silvery shot of fluid slide into her arm, and fell asleep.
blog fight
Leland, Molly, and Britney had their pictures taken with Matt and one of the female anchors, Meredith. The other one, Ann, was busy talking with an author. They got auto graphs and zippered carry bags. “Will you come back and give us an update?” a producer asked.
“Totally!” said Leland.
The girls went outside, into the bright sunshine. People behind the barricades in front of the studio’s big plate glass windows were waving to them. A boy on a bike stopped and said, “I just saw you on TV!”
When they finished taking pictures in front of the building with its rainbow logo, they were taken back to their hotel in a Lincoln Town Car. It was one of those fancy
Japanese hotels. Mrs. Broussard took advantage of the night they would be spending here to get them tickets to a musical. They ate dinner at Joe Allen’s and saw the guy who was in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and a famous old lady Mrs. Broussard said had the most beautiful voice of any singer on Broadway, and who had been the original Griswolda or someone in Cats, whatever that was.
They went shopping at Sephora and Henri Bendel, where Molly lost it and spent everything she had saved from two birthdays and two Christmases on a purse. They took a horse carriage ride through Central Park.
“I’ve been in Chicago, and how much bigger this city is just blows me away,” said Britney. They ran up and down the stairs in the Nike store. They bought CDs at a huge re cord store with five floors. Afterward they saw the show, a musical based on the Little House books, with Laura as an older woman singing, “My father built this house of logs, now trees have moved inside. The child I was comes run ning, her arms flung open wide. Oh Laura, barefoot girl, take me back with you. . . .”
It was the best time they ever had. They were totally exhausted.
They fell into bed at midnight and got up to hear more about themselves on TV as they dressed to fly home.
Molly got a hundred text messages on her cell phone from friends who saw her on TV. When Lee-Lee called home, her mother told her that somebody from England had called. A magazine, Your Own UK , wanted to interview
the girls. Somebody from Australia called in the middle of the night, too! And People magazine was coming next week. They wanted to try to get pictures of Maureen, and would Leland help? Britney’s dad told her a lady had called and asked him about a movie . But when Britney told
“In a moment we’ll hear from one of the paramedics
who was on the scene that night, in this strange and heart breaking case of two young Minnesota girls. Friends and families mourned at Christmas for Maureen O’Malley, only to learn after eight weeks that the girl who died was not Maureen but her best friend, Bridget Flannery. We’ll be back after the break.”
“Bug,” said Maureen.
“Oh, Maury,” said her mother. “Oh, sweetheart. Of course you didn’t know.”
But she had known.
Some part of her had known Bridget was dead.
Some part of her had reached out, and Bridget was not there. To hear them say it, though, that was different. She didn’t want to die—already did that. But live without Bridg et? Never hear Bridget call her and say, “I have the most disgustingly exciting news.” Bridget, her other self, who knew things about Maury no one would ever know, who she needed now more than ever. Maureen began to breathe harder. It was as though she couldn’t grab enough air.
She heard a murmur, felt a silvery shot of fluid slide into her arm, and fell asleep.
blog fight
Leland, Molly, and Britney had their pictures taken with Matt and one of the female anchors, Meredith. The other one, Ann, was busy talking with an author. They got auto graphs and zippered carry bags. “Will you come back and give us an update?” a producer asked.
“Totally!” said Leland.
The girls went outside, into the bright sunshine. People behind the barricades in front of the studio’s big plate glass windows were waving to them. A boy on a bike stopped and said, “I just saw you on TV!”
When they finished taking pictures in front of the building with its rainbow logo, they were taken back to their hotel in a Lincoln Town Car. It was one of those fancy
Japanese hotels. Mrs. Broussard took advantage of the night they would be spending here to get them tickets to a musical. They ate dinner at Joe Allen’s and saw the guy who was in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and a famous old lady Mrs. Broussard said had the most beautiful voice of any singer on Broadway, and who had been the original Griswolda or someone in Cats, whatever that was.
They went shopping at Sephora and Henri Bendel, where Molly lost it and spent everything she had saved from two birthdays and two Christmases on a purse. They took a horse carriage ride through Central Park.
“I’ve been in Chicago, and how much bigger this city is just blows me away,” said Britney. They ran up and down the stairs in the Nike store. They bought CDs at a huge re cord store with five floors. Afterward they saw the show, a musical based on the Little House books, with Laura as an older woman singing, “My father built this house of logs, now trees have moved inside. The child I was comes run ning, her arms flung open wide. Oh Laura, barefoot girl, take me back with you. . . .”
It was the best time they ever had. They were totally exhausted.
They fell into bed at midnight and got up to hear more about themselves on TV as they dressed to fly home.
Molly got a hundred text messages on her cell phone from friends who saw her on TV. When Lee-Lee called home, her mother told her that somebody from England had called. A magazine, Your Own UK , wanted to interview
the girls. Somebody from Australia called in the middle of the night, too! And People magazine was coming next week. They wanted to try to get pictures of Maureen, and would Leland help? Britney’s dad told her a lady had called and asked him about a movie . But when Britney told
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