“Liv?” Joy called from inside. The teacher took off down the hall and I caught the door before it swung shut. Joy was sitting against the far wall of the studio, unlacing her pointe shoes, and Diego was standing with his hands on his hips and his sweaty hair plastered to his face, looking uneasy.
“I’m sorry,” I said, clenching and unclenching my fists behind my back. Lunch had consisted of four cigarettes, half an apple, and two Diet Cokes, and I was getting lightheaded and twitchy.
“You shouldn’t be.” Diego shook his head angrily. “You don’t get someone to perform by psyching them out and threatening them.”
“It works on me,” Joy sighed.
“She knows, that’s why she does it,” Diego said. He wiped his face with the bottom of his tank top, exposing a lean, flat six-pack. Joy didn’t even glance up. “At least we don’t have to see her for ten days, right?”
“Yup, it’s a nice, relaxing stay of execution,” Joy said. She bent her bare right foot over her left knee and started massaging the ankle, wincing with each push.
“Are you OK?” I asked. She and Diego exchanged a look before she shrugged and quickly switched feet.
“Just tired,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” She looked up at me and frowned. “Are you OK? . . .”
“Just stressed,” I said. “The usual.” It was weird to feel so uncomfortable with someone I’d loved so long that I’d stenciled her name onto the lower half of my bunk bed. I tried to remind myself that the room had already been tense before I walked in.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Joy pulled on some socks. “Do you need to vent?” She said it in a monotone that made it clear that wasn’t what she wanted to do, but it was enough of an effort for me after weeks and weeks of nothing.
“Can I buy you an early dinner?” I asked. I’d taken out money in the middle of the night to pay Dante for my next order, but I wasn’t seeing him until Saturday, and besides, I’d taken out extra to give myself a cushion.
“You sure?” Joy asked. She looked over at Diego for permission, which stung a little—I guess they must have had a routine going, packing up and taking the subway together—but I couldn’t really be mad. I used to look forward all day to those ten minutes with you.
“After the next couple weeks, you’ll be sick of my face,” Diego laughed, picking up his duffel. “Get out while you can.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
I had one pill left until I got home. I could almost feel it bouncing around inside my purse like a pea under a princess’s mattress. I wanted to see Joy, I was aching to be in a room alone with you, but if I’m being honest I was just as excited to take that fucking pill, to plot when and where and how I would take it. That was how I planned my days. That had been all that was keeping me going.
Get out while you can.
I didn’t even hear the words.
? ? ?
Sitting across from Joy in a diner booth felt almost normal, although conversation tripped and stalled at first, both of us staring at the menu like it was a script we couldn’t find our lines on.
“What are you getting?” she asked.
“I don’t know . . . cereal, maybe? I’m not really hungry.”
“You should eat more. You look too skinny,” Joy said bluntly. “And I don’t mean that as a messed-up compliment.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okaaay. I won’t thank you, then.”
The waiter came and took our order. Joy got a turkey wrap, and I asked for a veggie burger deluxe I didn’t even want. I gulped down my water and chewed on the straw.
“I’m sorry,” she said, once he’d left. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m just freaking out right now.”
“It’s OK,” I said. “Me, too. I thought second-semester senior year was supposed to be like a big chill orgy. What happened?”
Joy laughed. “Right? The pressure is so crazy right now that if I didn’t have Diego there most days, I legitimately think I would have punched Adair.”
“Too bad she’s not busy sleeping off a hangover like Mr. Francisco,” I said. “Although the one time he showed up to a run-through he suggested Ethan recast me.”
“What?” Joy looked honestly shocked, and I loved her for it.
“Yup. He’s probably right, though. It’s such a weird vibe, the play’s going to suck unless . . .” I paused, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Luckily, or unluckily, maybe, one thing about Nuvigil was that it was great at filling awkward silences with words.
“I’m really sorry about stealing Dave at the party,” I blurted, clasping my hands together, digging the nails of one into the palm of the other methodically as I spoke. “I mean, nothing ever happened, but you were right. I liked him—I still like him—and I should have just said that. I don’t know why I tried to act like I didn’t care. I think I just didn’t want him to know I was just like everyone else, you know?”