Saving Ben by Ashley H. Farley Page B

bite. It’s really good.”
    She wiped her mouth with her napkin and then balled it up and threw it on her plate. “Please don’t start, Kitty. I already catch enough grief at home.”
    I’d been trying since Labor Day, via texts and e-mails, to get Abby to open up to me about her problems. So far I’d been unsuccessful. Time for a more direct approach. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Abby. Explain to me why it’s so hard for you to eat.”
    “It’s just—” she started, but then lowered her head and began picking at a hangnail. “I’m just not hungry. That’s all. I ate a big lunch with Mom and Dad on the way here.”
    “That was hours ago.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Come on, Yabba. You’re talking to me Kitty.”
    “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but not now. Not here.” She looked back up at me, her gray eyes desperate. “Tonight, I want to have some fun for a change. You’ve been begging me to come for a visit, so here I am. Show me the college life.”
    “Fine. I’ll drop the subject. For now.” I reached for my wallet to pay the check. “What part of college life do you want to see?”
    “Greek life,” she said without hesitation. “I want to go to a fraternity party.”
    Which was my worst nightmare. How could I take my friend who weighed less than a hundred pounds and had barely eaten any dinner to a keg party?
    “Okay, so I know I promised I’d drop the subject, but—”
    She held her hand up. “Don’t say it. Please. I hear it all the time from George. No food, no drink.”
    “Then we’ll go see Ben at the KO house.” I knew I could count on Mr. Overprotective to help me watch out for Abby. That is if he could drag himself away from Emma.
    We made our way up University Avenue and climbed the brick steps to the KO house. “I smell weed,” Abby said, sniffing. “Everyone is smoking these days. I just don’t see the attraction.”
    I linked arms with her. “Nor do I, Yabba. Nor do I.”
    As we started up the sidewalk, Ben and Emma stepped out of the bushes and blocked our path. “Kitty, whatzup?” Ben stared at Abigail, confused. “Shit. I may be high, but you look exactly like my friend Abby.”
    She play-punched him in the arm. “I am Abby, silly.”
    “Yeah, silly ,” I said, punching him in the other arm. “Since when did you start smoking weed, Mr. Serious Athlete-that-you-are?”
    Ben pointed at Emma. “Since she gave me this humongous bud.” He laughed hysterically until he realized he was the only one laughing. Straightening himself, he asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me Abby was here?”
    “We sent you a text to come sit with us at the game,” Abby explained. “Didn’t you get it?”
    Ben whipped out his cell phone and began scrolling through his texts. “Damnit. I totally missed it.”
    “Wait a minute,” I said to Emma. “You didn’t tell him Abby was here?”
    “Seriously?” Ben stumbled toward Emma. “ You knew about this?”
    Emma caught Ben and pushed him off of her. “I guess it just slipped my mind.” She glared at me. “What’re you doing here, anyway? Your friend doesn’t exactly strike me as the fraternity-party type.”
    “My friend?” I said to Emma. “You spent the weekend with her over Labor Day, and you went to the game today on her fifty-yard-line ticket. I would think by now you know her well enough to call her by name.”
    Emma placed her hand on her hip. “A-BI-GAIL,” she said, emphasizing every syllable in Abby’s name for emphasis, “doesn’t seem like the fraternity-party type to me.”
    “According to who? You?” I asked. “Didn’t someone ever tell you it’s politically incorrect to social profile?”
    “I’m sure she’s smart enough to get into UVA. But look at her.” Emma held her hands out toward Abigail. “She’s not sorority material. She’s earthy. I’d pick her for one of the clubs. Science or Marine Biology maybe.”
    Ben and I both looked over at Abigail in time to