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“Leave him alone,” Dorrit demands

“Why?” I ask “Has Mr Panda been up to sohty?”

“No!”

“I think he has” I feel around the back of the stuffed bear and find a large opening that’s been carefully fastened closed with safety pins

“What’s going on?” Missy co with foam

“This,” I say, unfastening the safety pins

“Carrie, don’t,” Dorrit cries as I slipI pull out is a silver bracelet I haven’t seen for months The bracelet is followed by a small pipe, the type used to smoke marijuana “It’s not mine I swear It’s my friend Cheryl’s,” Dorrit insists “She asked me to hide it for her”

“Uh-huh,” I say, handing Missy the pipe And then my hand closes around the soft nubby surface ofit out I place it on the bed, where the three of us stare at it aghast

It’s ruined The entire front side with the chic little flap where my mother used to keep her checkbook and credit cards is speckled hat looks like pink paint Which just happens to be exactly the same color as the nail polish on Dorrit’s hands

I’m too shocked to speak

“Dorrit, how could you?” Missy screa? Couldn’t you ruin your own bag for a change?”

“Why does Carrie have to have everything of Mom’s?” Dorrit screams back

“I don’t,” I say, surprising myself with how calm and reasonable I sound

“Mo to Carrie Because she’s the oldest,” Missy says

“No she didn’t,” Dorrit wails “She left it to her because she liked her the best”