“They’re planning on hanging this at the field hockey game this Friday,” Alex said as he held the other side down with his hand. “To celebrate your first week back at school.”
I read a few of the notes, glancing over most. Alex’s message was tagged with an I love you, and Jenna had scribbled out a curt Get well soon. Molly’s was the longest. She’d wished me well like the rest of them, but also written an offer of help, her pretty handwriting saying she’d be there to listen if I needed someone to talk to. Funny how the one person Alex had warned me to steer clear of was the one person who had offered to help.
“That’s why you are going,” Alex said, cutting into my thoughts. “Jenna may be pushing hard for Snow Ball queen, but she won’t win. I made sure of that. And, well, no one is running against me for king, so…”
I turned and stared at him. I’d pegged him completely wrong. I had expected him to be egocentric and obsessed with popularity. But at the end of the day, no matter how obsessed he seemed to be with his image, he cared more about Maddy.
“I have been back at school for three days, Alex. Three short days. I’m not ready yet.” And seeing well wishes sprawled across the banner didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse, kicked the expectations up a notch.
“I know,” he said. “But it’s only November. You have a couple more weeks to figure things out. Besides, it’s not like you have a choice, and it’s not like you’ll be alone. I’ll be there to help you. Our friends will, too.”
32
It was past six when I got home. I expected Mom to be worried, maybe angry. I hadn’t talked to her since Monday when I ran out and left her crying on her bedroom floor.
The house was dark and the driveway was empty except for Mom’s SUV. I opened the front door and was greeted by the dog. No smell of dinner cooking, no TV blaring the news. Only darkness surrounded by silence.
I flipped on a light and dropped my backpack to the floor. The kitchen looked exactly the same as this morning—coffeepot still filled with sludge, dishes still in the sink, dog still covered with day-old soup. I turned off the coffee, dumped the grounds into the trash, and gave Bailey a quick paper towel and water bath. I thought about doing the dishes, but the dishwasher was full and clean. That meant I’d have to empty it first, which I didn’t want to do.
“Mom,” I called, but I got no answer. I wondered if she was out with Dad. Maybe she had gone with him to pick up dinner or something.
Turning on lights as I went, I made my way upstairs. Bailey had made it up ahead of me and was lying on my old bed. I stopped and stared at him, waited for him to jump down and come to me. He didn’t budge, didn’t so much as lift his head to acknowledge my presence. My own dog was turning on me.
With a silent vow to feed him nothing more than dry food until he changed his attitude, I turned around and headed for Maddy’s room. I had to find a brown dress somewhere in her closet or find the time to buy one in the next few weeks. Alex wasn’t letting me out of going to the dance, and until I came up with an amazing reason why I couldn’t go, I had to play along.
There was a flicker of light coming from underneath my parents’ door. I listened for a moment before pushing it open. Mom was there, sound asleep in the overstuffed chair in the corner. The TV was muted. She’d showered—her hair was damp, her face free of makeup, and she was already in her pajamas. I watched her for a minute. I hadn’t seen her this quiet or this peaceful in weeks, and I wondered if it was sheer exhaustion or the help of a few sleeping pills that had stilled her mind.