Page 3 of Glad You Exist

She. Is.Not. Okay.

“Do you need to sit down?” I cock my head towards the empty classroom behind me, trying to appear nonchalant when I desperately want her to keep talking to me and tell me what the hell is wrong because although I don’t want to be, Iamworried.

It doesn’t escape me that this is the longest we’ve spoken since the day she broke my heart.

She shakes her head, looking over her shoulder, and makes as if she was going to just turn around and walk away. I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she jerks so fast that she almost tips over, and I have to reach out and hold on to her to keep her from falling over. Again.

As soon as she steadies herself, I step back and put my palms up.

“Sorry, I was just going to tell you that your locker is this way.”

I casually point in the direction I came from, behind me, where she had so obviously been headed to before our collision.

She doesn’t say anything for a beat, and I worry I might have embarrassed her, but when she finally looks at me, that impassive look on her face that she wears like armor is back on.

Damn it.

“Thanks, and sorry about not looking.”

Then she walks away from me in the exact same way she did when we were freshman, and I just stand there like a starved idiot, knowing full well the girl I know better than I know myself won’t look back at me. Still, I stare and wait until she is no longer in my line of sight.

I fight back the urge to call out to her. It still pisses me off that our friendship has been reduced to nothing. Our moms have been best friends since high school, even had Lamaze class together, gave birth to us at the same hospital, just months apart.

As far as I know, they still have brunch at least twice a month, yet I can’t even have a freaking conversation with my oldest friend.

I sigh, then turn back and start walking towards the student council office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the familiar sight of another old friend. I find Kim looking back and forth between me and Liz’s retreating back with a questioning eye.

I almost stop walking to acknowledge her, but as soon as her eyes meet mine, she shuts her locker and walks away too.

Damn, that was cold, even for her.

I shake my head, trying not to laugh at how absurd this all is. Out of the four of us, Kim seems like she holds the biggest grudge. Even though it was Liz who said the words, it was Kim who acted the part. We have exchanged a few words here and there in the last few years but only because we are both active members of the student council and have to plan events together. As far as I know, she and Kyle are the only ones who maintain any sort of friendship since our big fight, largely due to the fact that they run in the same circle, but it doesn’t seem anything like it used to be.

I notice a few people vying for my attention, but I’m so lost in thoughts of old friends that I know if I stopped to talk to anyone right now, my brain wouldn’t be able to process a coherent response. I simply nod, smile and keep walking.

I finally enter the office and plop down at the small makeshift desk reserved for the Student Council President. My reasons for coming in here are abandoned because right now, all I can think of is Liz and that damned look on her face.

I’ll just have it to wing it third period and hope I can pull a B on my Spanish test.

I rub my temples, dropping my head into my hands.

Thinking about her is, as always, agonizing torture.

I’m done. I don’t want to be friends anymore.

I can still hear her voice in my head, uttering those nine words in disparagement.

Almost three years later, I still don’t know why.

Iblink rapidly, trying to extract myself from the fog of thoughts clouding my mind and back to the conversation my mother is trying to have with me.

She nudges me with her shoulder, “Liz, did you hear what I said?”

I bend down to grab a pack of razors and a tin of shaving cream and shrug as I toss them in the corner of the cart where I have been keeping track of all the things my brother will need for his visit. “Yeah, mom. I’m sure Dan will go with you; he won’t mind.”

She has been talking my ear off for the last twenty minutes while we scrounge the aisles of Target about a writer’s panel, she has next year that includes a contest where a fan and a plus-one will win a dinner with her. She doesn’t want to go solo if her dinner date technically will have their own date. But it is starting to feel like she wants an excuse to go with Dan.

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