Page 9 of The Book of Legends
It was my fault that I couldn’t separate our friendship from that night the way he did.
I thought she didn’t notice. “It didn’t,” I lie.
She huffs, unconvinced. “He might be your friend, but that’s all I think he’s capable of being.”
I look away. She doesn’t hate Micah, but she’s never approved of us being together.
In her eyes, he isn’t good enough for me. And I can’t blame her.
I won’t be much good to anyone blind. What guy wants to be with a blind woman for the rest of his life?
“I looked into the program,” I say, desperate to change the subject.
She shifts her attention to me. “You mean the one for the blind?”
I inhale deeply, staring at the vast, open sky. I hate this conversation. “That’s the one.”
It was an unspoken rule growing up—no talking about when I would go blind. No talking about how I would deal with it when it happened.
But that time was coming.
“Yep,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone. “I took the doctor’s advice and looked into it.”
“And what are your options?”
“Braille, a cane, or a dog. Learning to feel and use my other senses. It’s like learning how to read all over again—but as an adult.”
She hums. “Sounds like fun.”
I snort. “You know what sounds like fun?” I say brightly.
She glances at me. “What?”
“A hand at Dominoes.”
The corners of her lips lift into a smile.
And for a moment, just a moment, the worries about the future melt away, carried off by the breeze. It’s refreshing. It’s peaceful.
And I never want to forget the way she laughs when she guesses exactly what I have. She also doesn’t know that she’ll beat me every time. Because the dots start blurring before my eyes after a while.
It’s Friday night. I stare at my reflection in the small mirror in my room. Like so many times before, I doubt the way I look.
I’m wearing a simple black dress that hits mid-thigh, showing more of my breasts than I’m used to. I don’t usually wear anything this low-cut or short. It draws attention—the kind I hate. My breasts are too large, my hips too wide, my ass too big. My only saving grace is that my waist isn’t as thick. But according to the other girls, I’m still fat compared to their nonexistent sizes.
To be honest, I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. This dress is the only thing I own that’s even remotely good enough for a college party.
“Selene, are you still going?” Diana calls through the door, followed by a single knock.
“I’ll be right out,” I reply, second-guessing my makeup.
I should have just stuck with lip gloss and mascara. Instead, I went all out—foundation, eyeliner. Not that it matters. The two windows I have for glasses block my eyes anyway.
I plan to visit my aunt first and then meet Diana at the party. But I can’t not see her. I’d think about her the whole time and feel guilty for not visiting. It’s the first time I’ve gone two whole days without checking in.
Diana said I should go all out. Again, I’m second-guessing myself. But I’m not sure I look okay. I’m not used to wearing so much makeup. Not used to wearing dresses.
I raise a tissue to blot my lipstick, hesitating before wiping off the foundation. There’s already a thin layer of product smudged under my glasses.
