Page 1 of Touch Me

ONE

AM I THAT REPULSIVE?

He knowsI’m in here alone. What if he waltzes in right now? Peeks his head around the door, hears his sister in the shower, and walks right up to me, hauling me into a kiss? My still shower warmed skin pebbles with goosebumps at the thought of him finally succumbing to his feelings for me. We’ve been stealing glances for months. Jess would be fine with it. I know she would.

She comes out of the bathroom, towel drying her waist-length hair, snapping me out of my fantasy about her brother. So I’m a cliche. Not only the silly little sister’s best friend with a crush on the older brother but let’s not forget thepoorpart—the poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks with a crush on the rich boy. I’m like every ‘80s movie on repeat.

Super.

I lied about the stealing glances part. I’ve never caught him with his eyes on me. Well, I didn’t lie. It’s my fantasy, and I’ll make up stolen glances if I want to. It’ll stay in my head, though. I don’t know if she’d be okay with it, and I’m not willing to risk our friendship to find out. She’s my best friend—my only friend.

I love spending time here, but I don’t belong here, lying on her oversized, cushy bed, surrounded by wealth. I inhale the scent of fabric softener, and even after a shower, I feel like I could somehow sully her bedding. I run my fingers over the down comforter, knowing it’s the same one she’s had for years, and yet, I don’t see any signs of wear. I try to refrain, to save myself yet another shame spiral, but I can’t help but wish it were mine.

When I was a little girl, full of fluffy little girl dreams, I would close my eyes and imagine the perfect room—perfect family, perfect life. Too many princess movies will do that. It wasn’t long before reality set in and slapped me across the face, the cartoon bubble bursting right along with it. That was never going to be my life.

Since then, I’ve learned to keep my head out of the clouds. I’m envious of Jess and all she has, but she and her family have opened their home and hearts to me. I’ve learned to be grateful instead of bitter.

Her room has always been feminine and pretty but in a grown-up way with soft, plush carpets, a giant four-poster bed, and her own bathroom. I don’t even have my own room, let alone my own bathroom. And plush and soft could never be used to describe anything I have.

Scratchy?Yes.Musty?Unfortunately.

Soft?Never.

My sister and I do our best to keep our meager belongings acceptable, but even using the wordnicewould be generous.

Don’t let the pity party in, Cass.

I look at Jess and her flawless skin and then down at my legs, hating how the slightest bit of sunlight makes the freckles along my bronze skin stand out. Jess smiles warmly and tamps down the jealousy that tries to worm its way into my heart.

Nope. Not today.

“Hey, who is your favorite ‘80s hair band singer?” I scroll through my phone and find a picture of Jon Bon Jovi I saved. “What about him?”

Leaning closer, she scrunches her nose at the picture. “He’s okay, I guess. The hair’s a bit much, and I have no idea who that is. What’s with your obsession with all things ‘80s, anyway?”

Jess knowsalmost everything about me. I keep a few things close to the vest only to save myself from being on the receiving end of the pity face. She’s been my best friend since the second grade. Dad left, and Mom moved us out to the west coast for a fresh start. It didn’t end up being much of a change if you ask me, but I digress. Instead of Dad flitting in and out of the house whenever he felt like coming home, it was now a parade of bar creeps that left a stench of old beer and stale cigarettes in their wake.

When Mom actually got out of bed, maybe once a week, she left my older sister and me home alone to goout. I really hate that word.Out.Sometimes she would be home later that night, sometimes the next day. Sometimes she was alone, most times not. The only thing that’s ever been consistent in my life is that my sister and I only have each other.

Now that we’re a little older and have close friends, we tend to spend as much time out of the house as possible. Jess and her family have always made me feel welcome, and I tend to stay here more often than not.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “When my mom was in a good mood and got out of bed to actually cook or clean, she always played ‘80s music. I guess it reminds me of good days.”

And... there it is. Pinched brows, forced smile... the pity face. I hate that face, especially from Jess. Her face relaxes as she tries to mask it, but I know her as well as she knows me.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I wish your mom was different.”

Jess knows all my horror stories, but it would be impossible for her to relate. Her family is amazing. Mr. Lancaster is a lawyer, and Dr. Lancaster is a dermatologist. She has two older brothers who adore her. Jack is twenty and in law school. Jace is eighteen and going to be a senior this year, while Jess and I are entering our sophomore year.

When Jess and I became friends, it was like I entered an alternate universe where families stayed together. They have a big, beautiful house and eat dinner together around their fancy dining room table every night. They talked about their day and laughed while they ate. They were so perfect I would blink and rub my eyes, waiting for the world to turn black and white and for June Cleaver to float through the door holding a plate of warm cookies or something.

I assume Jess filled them in on my living situation—a tiny, dingy ranch we rent from the owner of the bar Mom frequents—and the fact that my mom only gets out of bed when she needs cigarettes or to goout.Either way, the pity faces have become minimal, and I rarely need to ask permission to stay. It’s expected at this point.

“Yeah, me too. It doesn’t really matter now, anyway. You and me, we’re outta here soon. Two years.” I beam at her and squeal. “Two short years, and it’s college, here we come.”

Ally, my older sister, will be going to college next year on scholarship, obviously my only option as well, so I’ll only have one year on my own in that house until I walk out and never look back.I wonder how long it’ll take her to notice we’re gone if we don’t say goodbye.

Jess and I plan to go to University of California Berkeley, where I’ll study journalism. Jess hasn’t pinpointed a major, so for now, she’s undecided. I just have to get through two more years. Jess seems more nervous than eager about college. Probably because she has a damn near perfect life here. I wouldn’t want to leave either. But this isn’t my life. I’m just a barnacle the Lancaster’s have adopted and tolerated. I can’t wait to leave this place behind. I resigned myself long ago to the fact that I have to make my own life because I damn sure don’t have anyone rallying behind me.

---