Page 83 of The Two of Us

19

THEN (AGE 17)

My dad slides the bowl of scalding chicken noodle soup in front of me.

I roll my eyes. “You know I’m not sick.”

It’s senior skip day. The one day every senior in school refuses to show up to classes and instead runs around town, taking part in various shenanigans. It’s considered our last hoorah. The last time we shout our youth from the rooftops before we graduate and become adult citizens in society and are imparted with mass responsibility overnight.

So it’s senior skip day and my dad’s pretending like I’m sick so he can assuage his parental shame of letting me skip school.

“You are sick. Look at you, princessa, your hair is dull and your eyes look tired.”

“That’s just how I look, Dad.”

He pushes a glass of OJ and a bottle of cough medicine across the table. “I’m going to leave this here. And then I’m going out for the day to run errands. I’ll probably go straight to sleep when I get home tonight, unable to check on you. Whatever you do, do not leave this house,” he says, winking. “And don’t even think about sneaking out with your friends, especially to visit the zoo after hours where certain people tend to go on this day every year.” He’s full on smiling now.

“You’re scaring me,” I say, sipping my orange juice.

What I don’t tell him is that I plan on spending the entire day in bed. Senior year looks a lot different than junior year. Brandon and I have been broken up for an entire year. I never spoke to him after what happened at prom and he made no attempts at apologizing. We became strangers just as quickly as we fell in love. Or at least, what I thought was love at the time.

Even though Cat and I are busier than ever, we took that night at Lake Bonnie seriously. And surprisingly, so did Ambrose. I wouldn’t say things are exactly like they used to be and I haven’t seen him much since he’s started college, but when I have seen him, we’ve managed to exchange words without exposing our claws.

I shuffle through the college brochures Cat dropped off yesterday and a buzz of excitement runs through me. We’re still committed to moving to the city together after graduation. When Cat texted me this morning asking if I’d changed my mind about tagging along with her and her cheer mates today, I told her I was more than happy taking the day to chill alone. Also, because the idea of taking part in mischief and rule breaking makes me want to vomit.

My dad leaves the house, the giddy smile still plastered to his face. I’m positive he enjoys senior skip day more than I do. I curl up on my bed, Cheddar slinking under my sheets to nip at my toes.

“Ow!” I hiss.

His meow apology is insincere. He’ll continue to do as he pleases. So typical for a cat. I click on the TV, pushing play on the movie I started this morning. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I thought it was fitting. Halfway through the movie, my eyes become weighed down and I drift off to sleep, Cheddar licking the crumbs of Doritos off my hand.

I jerk awake at the sound of taps on my window. A glance at the clock on my nightstand says it’s nine thirty at night. So much for a wild senior skip day.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

The pebbles bounce off the glass and I rub my eyes. Cheddar stares back at me with an expression that says don’t look at me, I’m just a cat.

I toss a pillow at him. “You’re no help.”

I slide into my slippers and open my window. Down below is a dark silhouette I can’t quite make out. Only when the person pulls down their hood does the curtain of glowing blonde hair give them away.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yell.

Cat makes no attempt at being quiet. “I’m rescuing your ass.”

I look behind me, expecting my dad to walk through the door, but then I remember he’s determined to turn a blind eye tonight. “Am I in distress?”

Cat’s tone is sassy when she says, “You’re the only person sitting in their pajamas on senior skip day, so I’d say yes.”

Is this a pity invite? I told Cat it’s fine for us to have other friends, but maybe she didn’t believe me. Suspicion keeps me rooted in place. As if she senses my inner dilemma, Cat huffs in exasperation.

“They want to meet you. Seriously. Now hurry up, I’m getting cold.”

I refuse to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Be right down.”

When I stride up to Cat, she eyes my clothes and snorts. “What are you wearing?”

I point to the all-black ensemble I picked out for the night. “What’s wrong with it?”

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