Chapter 1 #2
Sometimes different was good.
Necessary.
Because for all her chaos, Gina and Shannon had one superpower: they could never let Nettie stop looking forward. If she stumbled, one of them was there to help pick her back up and keep her marching along.
Always looking forward, burying the past hurts and memories.
Forty miserable, soul-sucking, clock-watching minutes later, Nettie finally clocked out of the daycare.
She could practically feel the tension sliding off her shoulders the moment her thumb jabbed the button and the little machine beeped her freedom.
If it weren’t for the fact that a professional cleaning crew came in every night, she was pretty sure she would have quit right there on the spot, badge tossed into the trash on her way out.
There wasn’t enough money in the world for her to fish crayons out of nostrils, clean up the latest epic diaper disaster, or survive another “first” in her personal history of childcare horror stories.
And today?
Today had delivered a doozy.
Samson had cried so hard during pickup that he’d triggered a chain reaction of bodily functions no one should have to endure.
One second, Nettie had been juggling him and trying to keep her voice soothing, the next she’d returned from cleaning up poor little David in the bathroom - again…
only to step straight into a puddle of fresh vomit on the tile.
Her sneaker had skidded, her arms had pinwheeled, and for one horrifying second, she’d imagined herself going down in slow motion, face-first into the mess.
Somehow, by sheer miracle, she’d caught her balance—but the mental scar would last forever.
That had been her limit. And the limit was so close now she could practically smell the fumes off the freight train that was barreling toward it. But it was always like this.
Always.
Back-to-school season was the worst time of year.
Kids returned like tiny, smiling plague carriers—miniature petri dishes with pigtails and Spider-Man backpacks—dragging back every germ, bug, and virus from the outside world and kindly sharing them with their classmates, their teachers, and of course, with Nettie herself.
Didn’t matter the age, school district, ethnicity, or home situation—if one child had the flu, everyone was exposed.
And Nettie, apparently, had signed up to be on the front lines of the ultimate Germ Warfare.
She pushed open the daycare’s heavy glass door, bracing herself for the late-afternoon temperatures that clung to the parking lot.
She hadn’t expected anyone to be waiting for her, much less Gina—but there she was.
Her best friend sat perched on the trunk of her little silver sedan, legs swinging like a kid on a playground swing, grin wide and unapologetically mischievous.
Relief punched through Nettie’s exhaustion.
“Hey!” Gina called the second their eyes met. “Did ya make it?”
“Barely,” Nettie groaned, dragging her bag higher on her shoulder.
She felt like the day itself had clung to her skin.
“Don’t get me started. I’d rather live vicariously through you tonight because I know you’ve got something shiny to celebrate.
Me? I’m just ready to bleach the memory of today out of my brain. ”
“Back to school heebie-jeebies?”
“You know it.” Nettie blew a stray curl out of her face. “Oh—and teething. Don’t forget teething. If you’ve never seen a twelve-month-old bite the ear off a Care Bear like it personally offended them while something is rolling down their nose, you haven’t lived.”
“I thought those were fabric or made with fleece?” Gina made a confused face, her lips parted into an ‘O’, before she gave a dramatic shudder at Nettie’s flat expression, confirming the woman’s thoughts.
“That does it. I think I’m gonna get off the pill and just have everything removed.
Rip it all out. The ‘bakery’ is officially closed for life – per middle management. ”
Nettie barked a laugh, quick and sharp. “Ya know, if I had a reason to even be on the pill, I might agree with you after today.”
Gina slid off the car, landing with a bounce. “Uh-uh, nope. We are not going down the ‘Poor Nettie’ road tonight. You know the rules. The past is like our butts – behind us.”
“Your rules,” Nettie muttered. “Not mine.”
“Ew, no—our rules. Mutual survival pact. Don’t twist it.”
“Gina. Leave it alone.” Nettie leveled her with a flat stare, but her best friend’s smile only widened, undeterred.
“Girl,” Gina drawled, raising one brow dramatically. “Say it with me: If I’m still single at thirty, I’m going to turn over a new leaf and adopt a child of my own, turn Shannon into a decent human being with fairy dust… or simply marry Tate, because I want Gina as my sister-in-law someday.”
Nettie groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “First off, you’re messed up for referring to yourself in the third person. Second—Tate hates everyone. Including the three of us – you, me, and Shannon.”
“Most days, yeah.”
“Every day. I’d bet money on it. Besides, Shannon is prettier than I am and living a life we could only imagine.
Tate has that ‘angry’ look that always has Shannon fanning herself.
You know that girl likes her men big, angry, and controlling – of which, your brother is the epitome of all three things. ”
“Tate has his moments – and I can assure you Shannon hasn’t got a snowball’s chance… but you do.”
“You’re twisted, you know that? Tate’s rare moments are about as often as I date – once every few years.”
“Maybe,” Gina said with a shrug, then laughed and waved her toward the car. “C’mon. Get in before the ground opens up and swallows you whole.”
“Speaking of Shannon – where is she?” Nettie asked as she slid into the passenger seat.
“Tattoo.”
Nettie’s head whipped around. “Another one? Aren’t those expensive?”
“Not when you’re dating the tattoo artist,” Gina said breezily, starting the car.
“Ahh. She’s still seeing Felix?”
“Until her sleeve is finished,” Gina quipped, tossing her a wink. “And probably a little after, if Felix has anything to say about it.”
“Y’know what?” Nettie said, trying to suppress a grin. “That actually makes sense. Sort of.”
“Potato skins?” Gina offered, hands poised on the wheel like a gambler about to place a winning bet.
“With extra sour cream.”
“And some Arnold Palmers…”
Nettie snorted. “Or you could just call it ‘tea with lemonade’ like a normal person.”
“Someday,” Gina said, slipping the key into the ignition and flashing a smile that was half trouble, half charm, “they’re gonna name a drink after me. And I’m gonna be famous.”
“For bad decisions?”
“For being amazingly sweet.” Gina winked, cranked up the radio, and threw the car into reverse with a squeal of tires. “Let’s gooo!”
Nettie braced herself as her best friend peeled out of the lot like a woman fleeing a crime scene.
The service road blurred into the highway, and with the windows down, the music blaring, and the smell of asphalt and cool autumn air tickling in her nose, Nettie felt—for the first time all day—the tension start to crack and fall away.