Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

“Can we get back to work?” Tibby asked.
Since when had Tibby developed the work ethic of a
Pilgrim?
“I’m just saying, it feels weird to go on without mentioning
that you and I had a huge fight, Tibby,” Carmen said.
“Fine, you mentioned it,” Tibby said.
Most people avoided conflict. Carmen was beginning
to worry that she craved it like an addict. You antagonize
people, she reminded herself. She shoved her hands into
her pockets, fingering the grains of sand that were caught
in the lining there.
“I’m going to ask the questions,” Bailey said. “You just
be yourself.”
How had the modern world created such a confident
twelve-year-old? Somebody ought to fill her in on that
Ophelia syndrome right away. “Fine,” Carmen said. “Am
I supposed to look at the camera?”
“If you want to, you can,” Bailey replied.
“Okay.”
“Ready to go?”
“Ready.”
Sitting on her neatly made bed, Carmen crossed her legs.
“So Tibby tells me your father is getting remarried this
summer,” Bailey started.
Carmen opened her eyes wide. She shot an accusing
look at Tibby, who just shrugged.
“Yes,” Carmen answered stiffly.
“When?”
“August nineteenth. Thanks for caring.”
226