Page 24 of The Glass Girl

Her nails are almost completely free of polish now and she’s pushing the green chips into a small pile on the white table.

“When did everything become about getting wasted?” She says this really softly, almost like she’s not even talking to me, just talking to herself. She pushes a lock of her deep brown hair behind her ear. “Like, I feel like that’s all we do now. I mean, that’s what you guys do, I just drive.” She flattens the pile of green chips onto the table. “And I don’t think I want to do that anymore. I’m not even supposed to have that many kids in the car with me, you know.”

“Amber, that’snotall we do.” My voice cracks a little.

She looks at me.

We’re so different now, me and Amber. She’s got a clean, washed face and I layer on a mask of makeup every day. She’s on yearbook and does Science Olympiad and I keep to myself. She’s got plans for this big car trip of ours, hope literally pinned on a map on her bedroom wall, and I feel like I’m just…just hanging on for the ride.

“It’s not funny or cool, Bella. That one time a couple of months ago when I had to cover for you at your mom’s, after we went to that stupid thing in Carter’s garage? When I told her you must have gotten food poisoning from the drive-through burger. Do you think that was fun for me?”

She rips up a napkin, the little pieces sitting in their own pile next to the fragments of her nail polish.

“Do you evenrememberthat night?”

My face heats up. I remember the garage was damp and smelly. The beer pong. And then being in Amber’s car, a plastic bag on my lap while she mumbled “Oh shit oh shit oh shit” inthe front seat. Then nothing until I woke up in my bed with her next to me the morning after, a worried look on her face.

But I thought we laughed it off.

Or maybe that was only me.

Tears slip down her face, splash on the chipped polish and napkin shreds.

“I think I can’t hang out with—” she starts to say, but panic rises inside me and I cut her off.

I can’t lose her, too. I’ll have nothing, nobody. I grab her hands.

“I’ll be better, Amber. I promise. Please,” I say, leaning toward her, trying not to cry. “Please. I’ll stop.I promise.”

“It’s not good for me, Bella. I love you so much, but you’re killing me.”

“Ipromise, Amber.”

I stand up and slide next to her, wrap my arms around her. Solid, beautiful, kind, and funny Amber. “Please believe me.”

“You girls all right?”

It’s Patty. She’s looking down at us, concern on her face, holding two glasses of Coke. She puts them on the table.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, wiping my face. “Just friend stuff.”

Patty nods and walks away.

Amber sniffles and takes a sip of her Coke. She still won’t look me in the eye.

“Please, Amber.”

“Okay,” she says finally, finishing her drink. She hiccups. “I’ll believe you. I have to go now. I have to get back home.”

I slide out of the booth so we can both stand up. “I love you, Amber. I’m sorry.”

“Stopsayingthat. If you were so sorry, you’dstopwith all this,” she says. Her voice is sharp.

I flinch.

“I mean, do you not even think this is aproblem? You’re calling me in the middle of the night and like, blanking out, and you can’t remember things? That seems like a problem to me.”

Little bricks of shame are stacking in me, one by one, weighing me down. I wastoo much.And now I’m aproblem.

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