RUTHIE ENDED UP SPENDING the rest of the day at my place. Dad worked on his car for hours while we hid away in my room. We pulled up re-runs of Court of Palms on my computer and covered our faces in green goo, Ruthie's homemade face mask. It was nasty, but it took her mind off the shark attack. Once in a while I'd watch her eyes dilate as she stared off at nothing. I could almost see her sucking in the fear. Sometimes I put an arm around her and she leaned on me, saying something snarky like, "Good thing you have big shoulders." When I dropped her head and she giggled, I knew she was going to be okay.
I was still trying to derail Ruthie's dark thoughts after dinner. Ruthie was supposed to head home, but she was dragging her feet. We'd gone through most of the emergency junk food, painted our nails, and watched a lot of YouTube videos. I drooped in my desk chair, exhausted from trying to keep up with her.