With friends like these ...

My daughter started fourth grade last week, same school she's attended for the last two years, but this year none of her neighborhood friends are in her class, and two of her neighborhood friends moved away. I see her clinging to the kids she knows after school and at the bus stop, but she's also trying to make new connections with some of the kids in her class. It could be a long year otherwise, without familiar buddies to eat lunch with and run around the playground with.

I've been thinking a lot about friends myself lately. Ones I've lost touch with along the way, people who have moved on or disappeared, the friends who are a part of my daily life even though they're on the other side of the country. Sex and the City was criticized and parodied for the endless romantic ups and downs of the four main characters, but I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Big's discovery at the end of the series, when he calls Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha "the loves of" Carrie's life. More than anything else, I loved the show for its portrayal of women who supported each other, who rooted for each other, and who helped each other in every way. (I could insert a long rant here about the number of shows on the air lately, many of them "reality," that instead seem to thrive on showing women clawing and sniping at each other, but I'm in a good mood this morning, so I won't. Gallery Girls, any of the "Real" housewives, I'm looking at you.)

I don't know how I would have gotten through high school without my friends, boyfriend or not. And one of the things I loved exploring in both Cold Kiss and Glass Heart was Wren's relationship with Jess and Dar. Here's an example:

Darcia looks up when I walk into World Lit, eyes wild and hair wilder, corkscrewing all over. “I’m going to fail this exam. I am totally going to fail this exam.”  

“Dar.” I reach across the aisle and lay my hand on her arm. “The exam isn’t until next week. We can study all weekend. You are not going to fail, I promise.”

She ignores me, indignant. “Who writes a book about turning into a giant bug, Wren? I mean, come on.”

She’s not a straight-A student, but she’s also not stupid. She just thinks she is, which sucks in ways that make me want to do horrible, vile things to whoever made her feel that way. And she’s in the same boat I am—she’s going to need both financial aid and scholarships, or it’s the county community college all the way.

It doesn’t help that her older sister scored a full ride to Rutgers. We don’t talk about Davina much.

Not for the first time, I wish I could do more than sit her down and quiz her on themes and symbols, and suddenly I blink, Mrs. Duvall’s voice a vague drone as she begins class. Who am I kidding? I could totally help Dar with this.

My power flares to life, and it’s startling. I close my eyes for a minute, concentrating on taming it. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t use magic on Darcia.

I mean, I could. I could do a lot of things, and most of them aren’t anywhere near as taboo as bringing someone back from the dead. Dosing my best friend with magic is either brilliant or one of the sketchiest ideas ever.  

What would you do if you were Wren? It's a harder question to answer than I thought it would be, for me anyway. Maybe it's a good thing I don't have Wren's powers after all. 

Look for Glass Heart next Tuesday!