“So you’re going to pick up your medicine, then come back?” I ask her, still crouched between them. Rooney chews her mouthful, shaking her head. “No, I get the medication there, then I’ll come home—I mean, back here.” “I’ll drive you, then.” “What?” Rooney blinks at me. “Why would you do that?” “You said it makes you tired. That you crash afterward. I’d prefer that to happen on my bed instead of the highway.”
