Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

asking her direct questions.
Bailey pulled her bare feet up onto the chair, resting
her arms on her bony knees and her chin on her forearm.
Light slanted through the window and set her hair
aglow.
“Ask me anything,” Bailey challenged.
“What are you scared of?” The question got out of
Tibby’s mouth before she meant to ask it.
Bailey thought. “I’m afraid of time,” she answered.
She was brave, unflinching in the big Cyclops eye of the
camera. There was nothing prissy or self-conscious
about Bailey. “I mean, I’m afraid of not having enough
time,” she clarified. “Not enough time to understand
people, how they really are, or to be understood myself.
I’m afraid of the quick judgments and mistakes that
everybody makes. You can’t fix them without time. I’m
afraid of seeing snapshots instead of movies.”
Tibby looked at her in disbelief. She was struck by
this new side of Bailey, this philosophical-beyond-heryears
Bailey. Did cancer make you wise? Did those
chemicals and X rays supercharge her twelve-year-old
brain?
Tibby was shaking her head.
“What?” Bailey asked.
“Nothing. Just that you surprise me every day,” Tibby
said.
Bailey smiled at her. “I like that you let yourself be
surprised.”
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