Page 32 of This I Know
She pulls back and snaps the smirk off her face.
Cole comes up behind us. “See you later,” he says. He pulls his hoodie over his head. He holds his hand out to me, the same hand that was just stroked by Julia. “If you change your mind....”
I shake his hand. “If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” His handshake is firm, and he looks dead into my eyes.
They leave, and I close the door behind them. I watch them go; they’re still bickering and laughing as they walk down the driveway to their car, and I can still hear theclick clickof Julia’s heels.
There they go. My two remaining friends. As if I can even call them my friends after that.
I head back to the living room and start to clean up.
Avery
My eyes open. I’m back in the hospital.
I’m in the same, uncomfortable hospital bed. I’m looking at the same, boring walls; the same, boring hospital picture window is to my right. It’s dark, and a shadowy figure is sitting next to my bed. It’s a male. I can tell by the loose shirt, the short hair and the outlines of a masculine jaw. Both his hands rest on the arms of the chair.
My guardian angel.
I love seeing him. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of relaxation.
When I open them again, he’s leaning forward with his hand out, moving closer and closer as if in slow motion, until he reaches the side of my face. He touches me. I close my eyes in peace.
“Avery?” My mom pounds on my bedroom door. “Avery? Have you seen my phone?”
My eyes burst open. I’m in my bed and my sheets are stretched tightly over my body, creating a protective cocoon around me.
I hate it when she does this. And in the middle of such a good dream, too.
I open my eyes. The light is barely starting to pour into my room.Way too early, Mom.I’m so not ready to get up, but no matter how many times I ask her to leave me alone, she won’t stop. That’s my mother for you – a one-track mind. When she loses something, she forgets about everything and anyone else.
“No,” I moan from the depths of my pillow. Maybe she’ll give up and leave, but that might be asking too much from her.
She knocks again. “Are you sure? It’s not anywhere down here. I think I need you to call it for me.”
I sigh. That’s it. I’m up.
Being home is wonderful, but one nice thing about being in the hospital was the fact that anyone and everyone would allow you to sleep whenever you wanted without interruption. There you were the sick girl who needed her valuable, uninterrupted rest, and it was socially unacceptable to deny her that. Here … not so much.
“I haven’t seen it, Mom.” I pull myself out of bed with a grunt. I swing my leg over the edge with the help of my hands. “But I’ll call it.”
She opens the door, peering in before pushing it open the rest of the way. When she sees that I’m decent, she steps inside. “Good. I looked everywhere and I’ve got to be out of here in five minutes.”
I’ve already got my phone in my hand and I’m searching for her name.
“Thanks,” she says, crossing her arms. While the phone is pressed to my ear, a thought strikes her. She walks to my closet and pulls open the doors.
“This weekend let’s go get you some new clothes. It’s been a while and it might make you feel better. Liven things up a bit.” She sifts through the hangers and pulls out a hoodie, examining a hole near the sleeve. “What do you think?”
I shrug, still holding my phone in one hand. “I feel fine.”
“And what about this?” She’s disregarded me, holding my black dress by the tip of the hanger.
I catch my breath. It’s the dress I was wearing when I was attacked. It looks the same. It’s still torn where it was that night. That same even rip runs down the side seam.
She plays with the torn fabric, examining it. “The way you’ve been acting, you’d think you wanted me to throw this away.” She eyes me. “Do you?”
I toss the phone onto the mattress, then leap off the bed and yank the dress from her.
