“Dean. Hey, Dean.”
He turns around, his light brown hair falling in front of his gripping green eyes. “I have class,” he says quietly. He turns to walk away from me.
“Wait.”
He doesn’t stop and I’m left alone in the hallway while my fellow students churn around me.
“You’re not alone,” I say to myself.
? ? ?
The smell of popcorn from the nearby theatre is choke-worthy in its butteriness. Mom must have noticed my penchant for evading her. She’s dragged me to the mall. I know. I know. I’m a girl. I’m supposed to love the mall. Honestly? It makes me tired. All the walking and looking and trying on shit. It’s just not for me. I try to concentrate on what my mom is saying over the hum of people in the store. I grab a neon belt and wrap it around my waist—too small. There are at least fifty other belts. I didn’t know there were that many shades of neon. I guess the eighties really are back.
“What about this one?” Mom says, holding up a hideous, sleeveless aqua dress.
“Did I turn into a mermaid overnight?”
She frowns and puts it back on the rack. “That’s the tenth one. I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t want a dress.”
I place the belt back on the rack. “What gave it away?”
She smiles despite my attitude. I love that about her, but there’s a sadness in her eyes, like she knows she could be shopping with two daughters instead of one. She grabs a hair clip off the counter and scrutinizes me while flicking the clip over and over. “Aunt Sue wants you to join the choir.”
“Mom, I told you—”
“I know. But your voice is so beautiful and she needs one more soprano.”
None of this matters.
“I can’t.”
“Why? You have nothing else going on. If you’re not sleeping, you’re doing homework. I don’t know what to think of you anymore. I’m worried you’re not getting out enough. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Lamboni again.”
Shit.
She gives me that look. Like if I don’t join choir she’ll send me away. Try to find someone else to get through to me, since Dr. Lamboni just put a Band-Aid on my life.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll transfer to a cappella tomorrow.”
She sets the clip down and sweeps me up into a huge hug. My fingers get caught in the fabric of her long, hippie skirt. I pat her on the back a couple times and she whispers in my ear. “Thank you.”
“Aunt Sue owes me one.”
“Yeah, yeah. Put it on her tab.” She laughs.
I roll my eyes.
“How about a smoothie?” she asks, fingering a neon-green shirt that looks like it could glow in the dark.
“Banana Orange Creamsicle?”
“Don’t you ever want to try something new?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
7
28 Days
I have a plan.
It’s not going to be neat. It will be messy and awful, but there’s no way it can fail. I picked a date. October 31. Halloween—the day my life changed forever. Everyone will be wearing costumes and no one should notice me. I’ll jump from the Dover Bridge. It’s fitting since that’s where it happened—fitting and maybe a little clichéd. I’m okay with that. The job will be done.
A putrid smell pulls me away from my calculus homework. I tromp down the stairs, practically tripping on the last step. Mom’s in the kitchen cooking something that smells like fish and cabbage. She’s clanking the spoon against the pan when I walk in.
“Smells awesome,” I lie.
She continues scraping the pan and empties the contents onto a plate with a motherly grin that says I have no choice but to eat it. “You’ll like this.”
I groan.
She places the pan in the kitchen sink; it ricochets off other dishes. “Almost ready.” She sits across from me and places the plate of gross in front of me. Her hair is graying a little on the sides, but her face is wrinkle free. I wonder how she does it—how she looks so young. I know I’m the reason for the few gray hairs she does have. She had me when she was twenty—a product of a spring-vacation fling that turned into more. She’d met dad in Florida and said it was love at first sight, but I don’t believe her because if it was he wouldn’t have left. People who “fall in love at first sight” don’t ever leave each other. That’s what that means, I think.