So Much It Hurts by Monique Polak Page B

compare notes. Katie’s mom gets her hair blown out every week and has long lunches with her girlfriends at expensive restaurants downtown. My mom’s too busy working to worry about her hair. And she’s really careful with money.
    â€œWhich club did you go to?” I don’t ask because I’m interested, but because I know Katie is dying to tell me. It’s like someone asking me how it feels to be onstage. Clubbing is Katie’s passion. Mick says everyone should have a passion. That if we follow our passions, we’ll always be headed in the right direction.
    â€œIt’s called Circus. I’ll bet you never even heard of it, right? It’s in the Gay Village. The music was awesome, techno mostly. We never stopped dancing.” Katie’s eyes are shining. All I can think about is how tired I’d feel if I stayed up all night. Were Katie and I ever in the same world?
    Katie is just getting warmed up. “There’s usually a twenty-dollar cover charge, but they let us in for free. The bouncer said, ‘Pretty girls bring in business.’” Katie laughs when she imitates the bouncer. “The place was packed.”
    â€œWow!” I try to sound excited. “Hey, d’you know any rice recipes?”
    â€œRice recipes?” Katie peels off one of her gloves and makes a show of feeling my forehead. “Are you all right, Iris?” You’d think I’d told her I was pregnant with triplets.
    â€œMost people just boil water and add the rice. But I think there are better ways to do it. I meant to look online. Did you ever—”
    â€œDid I ever research rice recipes? Who do you think I am—Martha friggin’ Stewart? You really need to get a life, Iris. I swear, sometimes I think you’re turning into some old lady. Going to bed early, studying nonstop and now, talking about rice recipes. Don’t you ever just want to be seventeen?”
    I don’t tell Katie what I’m thinking: No, I don’t ever just want to be seventeen. Not anymore. Not since I met Mick.
    Accessories are on the ground floor at H&M. I like the pink and silver bracelets—they’d go with everything—but Katie chooses one with turquoise crystals. “It’s more fun than the pink.” I know she’s found another way to say I’m turning into a little old lady.
    So I end up buying two turquoise bracelets. When the salesclerk asks if I want them wrapped, Katie says, “We’re gonna wear them. They’re friendship bracelets.” She slips hers on, holding it up to the fluorescent lighting so the crystals shimmer. “We’ve been besties since pre-school.” Katie squeezes my elbow.
    I slip mine on too. I wish I’d bought the pink.
    â€œListen,” Katie says when we’re leaving H&M, “Lenore was gonna be downtown this afternoon. I said we’d meet up with her for a bubble tea.”
    â€œYou did? Since when did you start hanging out with Lenore?”
    â€œShe came to Circus with us on Saturday. She was actually pretty cool.”
    â€œI need to get home. To make that rice. It’s for my mom. Ever since that business with the food poisoning, she’s been trying to eat light.” My lie is starting to feel real.
    â€œI totally love my bracelet, Iris.” Katie twirls her wrist. “Call me later, okay? Promise?” She blows me an air kiss. I can feel her looking over my head—probably for Lenore.
    â€œI promise,” I tell her. Only I know I won’t.

CHAPTER 15
    â€œWhat a piece of work is a man!…
In action how like an angel…”
—HAMLET , ACT 2, SCENE 2
    M ick’s right.
    I’m outgrowing Katie. He says it’s part of life—like a child outgrowing a pair of pants. “They were a fine pair of pants, but they don’t fit you anymore. They’re too small for the person you are becoming,” he said. Mick also says it takes