Page 16 of New Year

ChasesDarling: got an old one lying around?

BlueSky: maybe

BlueSky: or an old camera. I’ll take pics and bring them 2 school tmr.

ChasesDarling: kk.

I stare at my screen, cursing my mother. If she costs me my friendship with Lindsey because I can’t text her…

I delete the conversation and spend the rest of my homework time hunting through our old boxes in the garage in search of a digital camera.

The next day my stomach is in knots, and I can’t eat a single bite of breakfast. Is this how Lindsey feels all the time? Is the pressure of being perfect so much that she can’t eat, and that turned into not eating at all? Mom nags me until I say I have a stomachache but I still want to go to school, and I’ll text her if it gets worse.

She drops me off with a reminder to let her know how I’m feeling in an hour. I don’t have time for her anxiety, since mine’s already at a level nine. Ignoring her, I climb out of the car and steel myself for the day ahead. At least once I see Lindsey, the uncertainty will be over, and that’s the worst part. For now, I comfort myself with the knowledge that she told me they were all wearing pink today, which means I’ll fit in for one more day at least.

I straighten my pink fleece and head for the Wampus Cat statue where our group gathers every morning. The day is grey and overcast, but at least it’s not raining as I make my way over. I spot Lindsey right away, wearing a baby pink cashmere sweater dress and white tennis shoes, her cheeks flushed with pink and a glow about her that might be the result of eating better during her week at Cedar Crest. She doesn’t look like a girl in mourning at all. She’s prettier than ever, nearly radiating power and status, perfectly composed as the other girls fawn over her with condolences about her cousin, which is all anyone talked about yesterday.

I quietly join the group, ignoring the trembling in my knees and my hammering heart. Half of me is waiting for everyone to turn and ask what the hell I think I’m doing, Lindsey hasn’t texted me so clearly I’m no longer her friend anymore, can’t I take a hint?

But no one so much as glances my way, except for Chase, whose yearning gaze meets mine over Lindsey’s head and then skates away, his mouth tightening into a grimace of pain that stabs into my heart. Why did her cousin have to disappear now, right when we were so close?

I shove the selfish thought away and focus on Lindsey, moving in to squeeze her elbow and offer my own words of sympathy about her family. I know behind that serene smile, she’s making a list in her head of which friends were brave enough to risk making her cry, and who avoided her because tragedy is awkward and no one likes to acknowledge grief. And it may be okay for Lindsey to leave me on read for over two weeks, but I know better than to think I can get away with anything less than perfect behavior.

Sure, I want to ask a million questions about her family, and her stay in rehab, and even why she didn’t text me over break, but I won’t pry into her personal life. After all, she’s never once pressed me to talk about Dad. I’m not even sure she knows he’s not here.

If she wants to tell me, she’ll tell me.

So I gather with her other friends who are doting on her and offering to give her notes from her classes yesterday, get her coffee if she hasn’t been sleeping, and be there if she needs to talk. I catch Elaine rolling her eyes behind Lindsey’s back when she turns, and I glare at her, but she just does it again, adding a shake of her head like I’m too pathetic for words. Apparently she’s exempt from sympathy, since her place as BFF is set in stone.

Finally the first bell rings, and we start for the doors. I catch Chase’s longing stare again, but I pull my gaze away quickly. There’s nothing we can do now. We had our chance, and it passed. A million chances, really, but the time was never right, and now, time is up.

I’m halfway through the lobby with Daria when I see Todd waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hands in pockets, looking a bit awkward. “Hey, Sky,” he says as we approach.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute,” Daria says, grinning slyly before she glides off with one of the cheerleaders, gossiping about how fabulous Lindsey looked. I could kill her sometimes.

“Hi, Todd,” I say, stopping in front of him even though I’m really not in the mood today. I need to focus on Lindsey.

He shifts from one foot to the other. “Uh, I’m really sorry about what happened. I should’ve known better.”

“Yes. You should have,” I say, letting myself be swept into the crowd pouring up the stairs. I’m halfway up when I realize I was way too harsh, and that if I make things weird with him, I’ll be booted from the group. I’m not even sure if I want to fix things with him, but when I turn back and see him standing at the bottom of the stairs, it’s too late. There’s no way I can fight my way through the flood of students pounding up the stairs without being trampled to death.

Someone jostles me, and I barely catch the railing and avoid being knocked down.

“Sorry,” says the girl who hit into me. “Someone pushed me.”

I open my mouth to say it’s okay, but then I see that it’s Blue, the girl from Halloween that Lindsey said was in the Slut Club. The one who killed her baby.

My eyes fly up the stairs, and my heart nosedives. If anyone sees me talking to her, I don’t have to wonder about my position any longer. I was already warned.

So I close my mouth without saying a word, turning my face away like I didn’t hear her and hurrying up the rest of the stairs. I feel sick about being so rude, but I can’t risk it after the two weeks of silence.

Perfect behavior.

Since I don’t have any classes with Lindsey, I don’t see her again until lunch. She’s sitting with Chase, her head bent his way as they talk quietly, looking so cute I’m instantly filled with a wave of guilt and self-loathing. How could I have ever thought I could replace her? She’s a queen. I’m a chamber maid at best.

Daria waves me over and I sit with her, trying not to look at the happy couple. “So, what did Todd say?” she asks, all aglow with excitement.

“Nothing. He just apologized.”

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