17

MY MOM STICKS HER HEAD in the door to my room. I can see her through a crack in my covers. “Teagan’s here, sweetie. She brought you lunch.”

I close the crack made by my bedspread so I can’t see her happy face anymore. “Tell her I have ebola virus and to stay away.”

I hear some whispering that includes Teagan’s voice. The door to my bedroom shuts.

“Get up, you skanky ho. I have Taco Bell,” she says.

I peek out of my covers. I have always been unable to resist the siren song of The Bell, and she knows it. I’d pretty much dive into a pool full of oh-my- god-those-are-not-Baby-Ruths for home-delivered Taco Bell. Dammit. Teagan has brought out the big guns.

The fact that she barely has any money to her name tells me how far she’s willing to go for me right now. I resign myself to the fact that I have to respect that kind of dedication and eat every crumb of whatever she’s brought me.

That’s what friends do for friends. I will just have to sacrifice. “What kind of Taco Bell?” I say.

“Do you