Only I can’t. Her eyes don’t buy it. They hold me in place, the green strands vibrant in the morning sun, the same color as the grass at the pond. Marley’s side of the pond.
“I want…,” I start to say, watching as the cherry blossoms begin to tremble slightly. A few of the petals fall to the ground in a small shower.
Say it.
I can’t, though. Because there’s something there in her face. The exact thing I’ve been looking for. The unnamed thing we both understand.
“I want… a friend,” I say, my own words taking me by surprise. “Someone who didn’t know me before all of this happened. Someone who I can be myself with, the me that I’m becoming. Not who I was. The me I want to be.”
“We all want that, don’t we?” she says, nodding the way you do when someone says exactly what you’re thinking.
But I have to draw a line. For myself. For Kim.
“But that’s all I can be. Just friends.”
She bites her lip and nods. Something like relief settles in her shoulders. Like it’s a safe compromise for her, too. “Definitely. Just friends. Nothing more.”
She brightens then and holds out the cherry blossom twig to me. I take it, letting out a small laugh. “So… what does it mean, really?” I ask her.
“Cherry blossoms? They mean renewal, a new start,” she says.
Her words send goose bumps up my arms. Another wind gust pulls the cherry blossoms off the tree behind us, then tugs at the branch in my hand. Her eyes are bright as she smiles at me through the whirl of pink and white petals, the sunlight glittering through the trees all around her.
* * *
Later, when I get back home, I take off my jacket and find a cherry blossom petal clinging to the sleeve. I pluck it off and hold it in my palm. The color always makes me think of Kim at our senior prom, in a dress the same soft pink. I told Marley that earlier as we sat under the cherry blossom tree, and she nodded, her face thoughtful.
Her sister had liked the color pink too. That’s why she’d stopped by the cherry trees in the first place.
Until that moment I’d kept all the reminders of Kim to myself, but talking about it with Marley somehow made the memories less painful. I haven’t felt that comfortable with anyone in months.
This isn’t at all how I thought things with Marley would go.
I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed with a groan, pulling the covers up over my head. Part of me feels weak, like I betrayed Kim so I could feel better, but the guilt doesn’t rush over me like it once did.
Frustrated, I roll over. I don’t know what the right thing is.
I don’t know anything anymore.
I stare into the darkness beneath the blanket, letting it envelop me. I don’t know how much time goes by, but I eventually jolt awake to the sound of a phone ringing, the dusky twilight outside my bedroom window now replaced with midnight black.
Groggily, I fumble around on my nightstand until my fingers finally find my cell. It must be Sam.
I look at it, surprised to see the screen is black. There’s no incoming call, but the ringing doesn’t stop. If it’s not my phone, then where is it coming from?
I sit up, trying to figure it out.
I don’t have a landline in my room. The upstairs phone is upstairs, and my mom’s cell would be with her. Still, there’s a phone ringing somewhere nearby.
A wave of dread rolls through me as my gaze falls on Kimberly’s purse, sitting on my desk. No way. I walk over, my heart hammering loudly in my chest. The ringing is definitely coming from inside. I yank the purse open. Kimberly’s cell phone, with its blue glitter cover, sits at the bottom, the screen blinking the words UNKNOWN CALLER as it rings. This is impossible. Kim’s phone was almost never charged. How has it stayed on for months?
It keeps ringing.
Tentatively, I press the green button and hold it up to my ear.
“Hello?”
The phone crackles noisily, the sound of buzzing and distant voices pulling through the static.
“Can… ear me? Don’t… have to…”
“Who is this?” I ask, pressing the phone to my ear, straining to hear. But the line abruptly goes dead. I pull the phone away to see the screen is dark. I hold down the power button as hard as I can, but it refuses to turn back on. The battery is completely drained.
I limp quickly back to my bed, rip the cord out of my phone, and plug it into Kimberly’s.
I pull my desk chair over and plop down, staring at the phone as it charges, the battery symbol appearing, red line blinking. I lean against my nightstand, watching. Who the hell would be on the other end of that call?
I wait and wait, but the phone refuses to boot back up. My eyes start to droop. I remember pestering Kim to get a new phone, one that might actually charge, but she never got the chance. So I sit and I wait.
I wake with a start, realizing I’m back in bed, the covers wrapped firmly around me.
I don’t even remember lying down.
Frustrated with myself, I roll over and reach out for Kimberly’s cell, feeling my way up and down the nightstand. I can’t find it anywhere.
Did I knock it off in my zombie state?
I lean over the edge to peer around on the floor, but the blood rushes to my head and sends a throbbing pain across the length of my scar. Note to self: brain is still not ready for a head rush.
There’s nothing on the floor.
I mean, a few lingering Pop-Tart wrappers, but no phone.
I clamber out of bed, looking at my desk for her purse. But… it isn’t there. The spot where it was resting just last night is vacant.
That doesn’t make any sense.
Slowly, I turn toward my closet. Now that I think of it, what actually makes no sense is that the purse was even on the desk in the first place. It was never on my desk. It’s still…
I open the closet door and zero in on the box immediately, tucked away in the corner, just like it’s always been.
I pull back the lid to see the shoe, the disco ball, and…
The purse, cell phone inside, screen dark and quiet.
12