“Well, I thought I’d wear those new jeans you got me.”
“Great. They might go well with this. I thought you could borrow it if you wanted.” She handed me a cashmere cowl-necked sweater the color of raspberries. It was my favorite sweater of hers; she’d never let me borrow it before.
When I took it I was struck, like always, by how soft it was. I rubbed it on my cheek. It smelled like her perfume. And all of a sudden I remembered smelling the same smell on my Blue’s Clues T-shirt my first day of kindergarten, after Mom had left. I’d buried my nose into my shoulder all day, breathing in her scent whenever I got sad. I’d missed her so much. It was sort of nice to think I could do the same today. “Thanks, Mom. It’s perfect.”
She looked relieved. “I’m glad it will work. Honey…” She paused and looked at me, almost desperately. “I know today is going to be hard, but I want you to remember that I’ll be thinking about you all day, okay? All day. And I know you might be worried that kids are going to stare or gossip. But you’re tougher than they are. You keep your head up and look for your friends. And think of me, here, cheering you on.”
I pulled my towel tighter. “Thanks, Mom.”
She grabbed my hand. “You have been through a war, and you’ve won. You are stronger than you think, Elizabeth. I am so proud of you. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too,” I said. And I meant it.
*
Dad dropped me off fifteen minutes before the first bell. I had hoped it might be early enough that I could slip up the front steps of Esterfall High relatively unnoticed, but no such luck. Kids stood around the grassy front lawn wearing puffy coats and other types of warm jackets.
Trying to get my body out of the car felt like working up the courage to dive into an icy-cold pool. I knew it would hurt. “Everything will be fine, honey,” Dad said quietly. “People are going to be so glad to see you.”
You are strong, my mom had said, but what if she was wrong? I scoured the clumps of kids to see if Katrina was around; she often wore a red knit hat on cold mornings. Lots of red, lots of hats, but not one of them was hers. If she were with me I could do this. I should have told her to meet me here. I pulled out my phone and shot her a text. At school. You here?
“Elizabeth,” Dad said, placing his warm hand on mine, “the best way out is through. Go on, honey, it will be fine. I just know it.” Then he ruffled my hair, leaned across me, and opened the door. My hands flew up to smooth my hair the second he finished. I checked my phone. No response from Katrina. I was on my own. I lifted one leg up and watched it float over the car threshold; the other followed.
I ignored the girls who stared and the groups who whispered about me behind their cupped hands. I’ve been through a war, I told myself as I pulled open the ornate wooden doors of the school. A war that I won. But honestly, I didn’t know if I believed it.
47
When the big doors clanked shut, the sudden quiet of the hallway surrounded me like warm water. Two teachers talked down the hall, the murmur of their voices mixing with the muted sounds of outside. One laughed. For the first time in my life, I was jealous of teachers. No one cared what they looked like; no one whispered about them.
The front door flew open behind me and a girl stumbled in, her face hidden by a ginormous hood. When she pulled it off and shook out her hair, my heart dropped.
Heather.
We locked eyes. You didn’t break me, I told her with my glare.
“Welcome back, Elizabeth,” she said, almost meekly. And then, without another word, she walked down the hall.
Maybe I could get through this day.
I headed to my locker with its familiar dings and scratches. Everything was where I’d left it: my brown brush, a bottle of Pantene hair spray, and my red cross-country sweatshirt—turned inside out from the last time I’d worn it.
From behind, Katrina practically tackled me.
“Hi! Oh my God, hi!” I said, my voice cracking a little.
We hugged for a long second before she pulled back to look at me. “So, how are you?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Well, you look great. I love your sweater.”
“Thanks,” I said gratefully, rubbing the soft fuzz of it. I thought I caught a whiff of Mom.
Katrina looked at me for another second, as if deciding how to continue. “So,” she said, “are you ready for history? Ready to meet Tom?”
“Yes! Do you still think he’s hot?”
“No. Sadly, his personality came out, and that pretty much wiped out all the attraction. I think The Simpsons phase was just a ploy to get us to like him. He gives us so much work that it’s like he thinks his class is the only one we have.”
“That sucks,” I said. Figured that I’d miss all the fun and return for the hard part.
As we walked down the hall, voices ricocheted off the walls around me and into the classrooms, but I kept my head low, avoiding eye contact, like if I couldn’t see people whispering about me, they weren’t. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I repeated to myself.
Katrina looked at me funny. “Are you singing Kelly Clarkson?”
Oops. “Maybe?” I smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. “It’s as good a theme song as any for this place.” And then, with that, we went off to history.
48
Before I knew it, the bell was ringing for lunch. The sound of the cafeteria at lunchtime was terrifying, loud voices pouring out like club music. The air was humid with the smells of school lunch—something with bacon—and I could practically see molecules of liquid fat floating through the air and sticking to my skin. Thank God I didn’t have to eat in there.
When Mom called the school on Friday to let them know I was coming back, she’d asked—no, demanded—that someone supervise me eating. I’d gotten mad, told Mom it wasn’t necessary, but she’d insisted. “You are going to be under a lot of stress the first few days you go back. I want you to have support.” So I’d promised my parents I’d eat lunch in Nurse Keller’s office. That way she could sit with me and check off what I ate. At the time I was pissed. Now I said a silent thank-you to Mom under my breath.
Nurse Keller wasn’t there when I arrived. In the quiet of her office, I took a deep breath for what felt like the first time all day. The morning had gone by fast. English and math hadn’t changed a bit, but Katrina was right about Tom. He was cute, sure—tall, with a face that looked a little like Ryan Gosling’s. But he spent the entire period lecturing us on the War of 1812. He never even asked questions—he just talked the entire time.
After five minutes, Nurse Keller still wasn’t there. “Excuse me?” I said, opening the door to the front office. Ms. Linda, one of the secretaries, saw me and sighed.