She ignored my question, which was admittedly stupid, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. I edged into the room while Ethan stayed put outside, waiting. The cloud of estrogen wafting out of there was probably making him uncomfortable.
I sat next to Aubrey, my foot crushing one of the balled-up tissues scattered across the tile. For several minutes we just sat there, not talking, Aubrey’s occasional sniffling the only sound in the room.
“I’m not allowed to see him anymore.”
Again, my heart jolted at the tone in her voice. She sounded beaten. Hopeless.
“I tried to keep up,” she went on, pressing a fresh wad of tissue to her eyes. “I thought I could do it all . . . school, homework, violin . . . and still have time left over for him. But there was never enough time, so I kept choosing him. I started neglecting all the other stuff and I was too stupid and preoccupied to realize my parents would eventually notice I was slacking off. They don’t notice everything, but they do notice that.”
I wrapped my arm around her slumped shoulders. “Aubrey . . .”
“They grounded me for a month. A month. They took away my phone and my laptop and I’m not allowed to go anywhere or do anything unless it involves school or orchestra. I’m a prisoner.”
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she sopped them up with the soggy tissue. The Kleenex box on the counter was empty, so I handed her some more toilet paper. She tossed the used pieces on the floor with the others and folded the clean stuff into a smaller square.
“As soon as Mom left for work, I called Justin on the landline.” She took a deep, hitching breath. “He was pissed. Told me he was done with all this crap. He doesn’t think I’m worth it and I don’t even blame him.”
“He told you that?” I asked, rubbing her back. “That you’re not worth it?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s what he thinks. Who wants a girlfriend with psycho parents? It’s too much hassle. All this drama . . .” She leaned into me, her small body trembling against my side. “I don’t even think you could talk him down this time, Dara.”
The despair in her voice made me want to find Justin and kick his ass for hurting her. Then she started sobbing again, and the urge passed. Seeing her like this, completely shattered at the prospect of losing him, made me realize exactly how much he meant to her. I felt guiltier and more ashamed than ever for feeling even the slightest hint of attraction toward him. Or envy toward her.
From now on, I told myself, I’d be the image of appropriate. I wouldn’t secretly watch him, or think about him, or revel in any accidental touches. I’d see him for what he was—the boy my best friend had fallen in love with. And instead of feeling jealous of her, I would channel my resentment into helping her outwit her parents so she could have a life outside the narrow space they’d restricted her to.
“Don’t worry,” I told Aubrey as she cried against my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Your parents probably won’t back down any time soon, but Justin will. And when he does, I’ll do whatever I can to help you guys, okay? You are worth it, Aubs, and he knows it. He’ll come around. If he doesn’t . . . well, he’s just as psycho as your psycho parents.”
She pushed out a breathy laugh and sat up straight. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, but significantly less drippy. “Thanks, Dara. You always know the perfect thing to say to make me feel better. I’m sorry for crying all over you.”
“No worries. It’s part of my job description.” I lifted my foot off the damp tissue and cringed. “Uh, you might want to get rid of this mess before your parents get home. It looks like a trash can threw up in here.”
“Just a sec.”
She stood up and went to the door, opening it all the way. Ethan was still standing in the exact same spot, waiting for us to emerge. Aubrey headed straight for him and pressed her forehead into his shoulder.
“Sorry for yelling at you, Eth,” she told him. “I didn’t mean it.”
His hand came up, hovering over her for a moment before resting on her hair. “I know.”
Our eyes met over her head. I knew we were both thinking the same thing—no matter how hard she pushed us away, Aubrey would always come back to us eventually.
fifteen
Senior Year
“YOU’RE LOOKING BETTER, DARA.”
I adjust my feet on the floor, making sure they’re straight and still. “Better how?”
Mrs. Dover perches on the end of her desk, fingers curling around her usual purple coffee mug. “Healthier. Your cheeks have more color, and it looks like you gained some weight. In a good way, of course.”
She’s right—I have gained weight. My clothes fit me now instead of falling off me, and my face is fuller. I’m still not as rounded as I used to be, or as strong, but at least I stopped looking like I’m either sick or on drugs.
“Your grades are good too,” she goes on. “Have you been thinking about college? Mr. Lind mentioned something about you wanting to be a police officer. I could help you look into it, if you want.”
“Maybe later,” I say vaguely. “I’m still kind of dealing with the everyday stuff right now.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Dover straightens her skirt over her legs. “I saw you in the hallway the other day. You were walking with another girl, talking to her and smiling. That’s good too, Dara. This is all good stuff.”
I shift a little in my chair. Hearing her say things like that makes me anxious, like I’m going to screw up any progress I’ve made and disappoint her. Disappoint everyone. “That was Noelle,” I tell her. “We’re . . . she’s a new friend. I guess.”
“Wonderful.” She smiles at me. “There are people around here who will accept you for you. I’m glad you found one of them.”
Uncomfortable, I shift again. I don’t know if Noelle accepts me or not. We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks and for all I know, she could have befriended me out of pity. Or morbid curiosity. Or because she has a death wish.
“Have you connected with anyone else?” Mrs. Dover sets down her mug and moves behind the desk, folding gracefully into her chair. When I don’t answer right away, she starts sifting through a pile of papers, giving me some extra time.
“Ethan,” I say when she looks up at me again.
She slides the papers to the side. “Aubrey’s brother?”
Something occurs to me after she says this. Does she know him? Is she his counselor too? Then I remember she’s only assigned to seniors, not juniors, and I relax somewhat. “He . . . I think he still wants to be friends. We’ve hung out a few times.”
“That must be difficult for you. For both of you.”
I nod. “My parents think I should be giving him some space.”
She pulls out the typical psychoanalysis question: “And what do you think?”
I study my hands, clasped and motionless on my lap, and consider her question. Maybe I should keep my distance. Maybe bringing him back into my life is a huge mistake. Maybe this horrible thing between us is too big to overcome and I’ll end up losing him too. Maybe losing him will be the thing that destroys me completely.