Send Me a Sign

“How were you so maddeningly calm? I can’t believe you invited Ryan over for lasagna while we were standing there half-naked.”

 

 

“Rest assured, I went home and lifted till I threw up, but I didn’t think you’d … I knew you’d interpret my interruption as a very bad sign and cancel your plans.” His smile was smug. “But I don’t want to hear the words ‘Ryan,’ ‘you,’ and ‘naked’ in the same sentence again.”

 

The door opened too soon. My parents and the counselor entered the room. Far too soon for me to tell Gyver everything I needed to. “Come back later?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Dad corrected.

 

I opened my mouth to protest, but Dad repeated himself.

 

Gyver squeezed my hand under the tray. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mia Moore.”

 

I twisted my hand in his, tracing the guitar-string calluses on his fingertips. In a voice as steady as a statue and only slightly raspy, I answered, “I love you too, Gyver.”

 

“Did she say … to Gyver?” Mom looked from the door where Gyver exited to my father.

 

“Dear, let’s go,” said Dad.

 

“But what about Ryan?” she asked.

 

“We broke up.”

 

“You and Ryan broke up?” Her voice climbed from confused to baffled.

 

“Mom.” My voice was stern. She stopped fussing and turned to me. “You’ve got to start trusting me to make my own decisions about what makes me happy.”

 

“Of course, kitten. I do.” She smoothed her already smooth hair and laughed nervously. “Gyver Russo, really?” It wasn’t criticism, it was curiosity.

 

“Really.”

 

“Well then, it looks like I’ve got some catching up to do … that is, if you want to tell me.” She looked almost timid, adjusting and readjusting the shoulder strap of her purse.

 

“I’d like that.” We exchanged smiles, and Dad patted my hand before taking her arm and leading her out of the room.

 

That left me facing the counselor. She looked at me from behind thick lenses with an expression both patient and compassionate. I thought about Mrs. Russo’s comments. “Are you going to tell me it’ll help to talk? Because I have a lot to say …”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 51

 

I woke Tuesday afternoon to a gentle but persistent poking in my shoulder.

 

“I’m up, I’m up,” I grumbled, swatting away someone’s hand.

 

“Finally,” Hil answered. “I’ve been sitting here for almost two hours, and I have to go soon.”

 

I scooted over on the bed and she climbed up next to me. We leaned against each other, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and stared at the wall in front of us.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she reflected with a wry laugh. “Remember all our plans for a perfect senior year?”

 

“Do you get why I couldn’t tell you?” I asked.

 

“No.”

 

“You wouldn’t have let me mope. You would’ve gotten the whole squad to—I don’t know—shave their heads in solidarity. You would’ve been there for me. Right?”

 

“I don’t see the problem.”

 

“I didn’t want to be held accountable. Lauren let me wallow in self-pity and hide from this—at least at first she did. And if she had a bad reaction when I told her and she rejected me, oh well. I didn’t think I could handle that from you.”

 

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I’m going to be fine.” Each time I said it, I was more confident it was true.

 

“Promise?” Hil turned to look at me, her face overwhelmed by her large, worried eyes.

 

“I can’t promise, but everything looks good and I believe I’ll get better.”

 

She gave me a smile. “That’s good enough for me—I’ve never seen you not meet a goal. I mean, you even got Ryan Winters to beg to be your boyfriend.”

 

“Is he okay?” He had kept his word and hadn’t visited. My fingers traced the chain around my neck. It didn’t feel right to wear Ryan’s heart post-breakup, but I needed to fidget, so the chain stayed. I’d punched a hole in one of Gyver’s picks and wore that instead.

 

Hil rolled her eyes. “He’s Ryan Winters; there are already new hook-up rumors. Though I think they’re more girls’ wishful thinking than truth. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Mostly, he and Chris have been locked away doing ‘guy stuff.’ What do you think that even means?”

 

“We watch musicals and eat chocolate; maybe they eat wings and watch war movies?” I suggested, then giggled. “But seriously, how awesome would it be if they’re at Chris’s watching Annie or Grease?”

 

She threw her arms around my neck; I hugged back just as greedily. “God, you’re not allowed to go AWOL again, Summer Girl. Okay? Whatever happens, you tell me!”

 

“Deal,” I agreed.

 

She let go. “Welcome back. Also, I expect you to come out for winter cheerleading. We can figure out how to deal with missed practices. We can’t figure out how to miss you.”

 

Before I could respond or tear up, she added, “Though it totally sucks you can’t tumble, because the new recruits are hopeless at it.”

 

I laughed and shook my head. Hil would always be Hil. From the hallway I heard Mary Poppins Nurse—Mariah—call, “Hello, handsome.”

 

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