The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares

threat to his and Skeletor's happiness is preposterous. But she doesn't know that.
    All love from your evil friend who has a tiny patch of heart left to miss her friends desperately,
    Carmen
    For some unaccountable reason, Bailey showed up at Wallman's the next day.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Tibby asked, forgetting for a moment to be nice.
    â€œI thought I'd give you another chance,” Bailey said. She was wearing cargo pants almost identical to the ones Tibby had worn the day before. She had on a hoodie sweatshirt and a trace of black eyeliner. It was obvious she was trying to look older.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Tibby asked dumbly, once again disturbing herself with her quick willingness to lie.
    Bailey rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Another chance not to be an asshole.”
    In spite of herself, Tibby's temper flared. “Who's the asshole here?” she snapped.
    Bailey smiled. “Hey, listen, is that smock your kind of one-size-fits-all item?”
    â€œYeah, wanna borrow it?” Tibby asked, enjoying the playfulness on Bailey's face.
    â€œNah. It's butt ugly,” Bailey commented.
    Tibby laughed. “It's two-ply. It's made of petroleum.”
    â€œNice. You need some help with that?” Bailey asked.
    Tibby was stacking boxes of tampons. “Are you looking to get a job at Wallman's?”
    â€œNo. I just feel bad I wrecked that deodorant display.”
    â€œAntiperspirant,” Tibby noted.
    â€œRight,” Bailey said. She started stacking. “So, do you ever take the smock off? Or do you wear it around the clock?”
    Tibby was annoyed. She couldn't take much more mocking about the smock. “Would you leave the smock alone?” she asked testily. She was tempted to bring up the needlepoint. Tibby's
mother
used to do needlepoint.
    Bailey looked pleased. “For now.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Can I buy you some ice cream or something after your shift? You know, as thanks for not stealing
all
my money?”
    Tibby didn't feel like hanging with a twelve-year-old. On the other hand, she didn't feel like she could say no. “Sure. I guess.”
    â€œGreat,” Bailey said. “What time?”
    â€œI get off at four,” Tibby said without enthusiasm.
    â€œI'll come by,” Bailey offered. She turned to go. “Are you just being nice to me because I have cancer?” she asked over her shoulder.
    Tibby considered this for a moment. She could lie some more. Or not. She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
    Bailey nodded. “Okay.”
    Tibby quickly learned the ground rules with Bailey. It wasn't hard. There were only two of them: 1) Don't lie. 2) Don't ask her how she's feeling.
    Other than that, the conversation over brownies with ice cream and chocolate sauce ranged far and wide. Tibby found herself talking with unusual interest and openness about the movie she was planning. Bailey acted like she was fascinated, and Tibby wasn't immune to a person thinking she was cool.
    It made Tibby wonder about herself—if maybe she missed her friends even more than she had realized. Was she so lonely that she'd open up to any random annoying twelve-year-old?
    Bailey seemed to have the same suspicion. “Do you have any friends?” she asked at one point.
    â€œYes,” Tibby said defensively. But as she began to describe her three fabulous, beautiful, and amazing friends and the awesome places they were spending their summers, she realized it really sounded like she was making them up.
    â€œWhere are all of
your
friends?” Tibby finally asked, throwing the burden back to Bailey.
    Bailey rattled on about Maddie, who lived in Minnesota now, and somebody else.
    Tibby looked up at one point and saw Tucker Rowe standing at the counter. Her heart started beating faster. Was he the only other person in their class who was home this summer? She'd figured out by now that he worked at the ultrahip indie