I stood there for a few beats, somewhere between crying and screaming. I couldn’t believe Ant had shown Claude that picture. It shouldn’t even matter, not with Maureen dead and Brenda missing, and it didn’t, not anything like those losses did, but it stung at a time when I didn’t have room for more hurt. I shuffled back under the tree next to Mom and Junie, wondering who else here had seen me in my bra, crying, in that dumb-bunny photo I let Ant take.
