Blackout, p.10
Blackout, page 10
“Since now. Damien, we’re taking things slow, remember? You can’t treat me like that. I’m not an object.”
He gives me a wounded look. “Sorry for showing that I care.”
“Come on,” I say. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do I?” he says. “Every time I try to get close to you, you push me away.”
“Damien,” I say, my tone sounding as tired as I feel. “Stop.”
“I wanna know why you won’t give me a chance.”
“That’s not fair.”
“How is it not fair?” he protests.
“Because you’re putting so much pressure on me,” I say, pointing a finger at his chest. “And you have zero understanding of how I feel. Being with you is—”
I stop short, exhaling. The pain in my head throbs obnoxiously as the party continues on around us. My unfinished sentence hangs in the air, and I have the desire to either swallow the words and take them back or vomit everything onto the floor.
I think we should break up is on the tip of my tongue, but this would be the worst possible time to say it. Instead, I sigh, forcing the tension to leave my body, and he avoids looking at me directly. “Can we not do this now?” I plead, my voice gentle, suddenly aware of a few pairs of eyes watching us. “This is a party. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“Fine. I hope you enjoy yourself.”
Without another word he strides away from me, clearly upset. It must be hard for him to give up on our long-time relationship, but what we have right now isn’t healthy for either of us. It’s exhausting, and nobody is happy. He should understand that now is not a good time for us to be together.
Relatively speaking, he’s only a few steps above feeling like a total stranger to me, meanwhile, he’s hung up on a version of a girl who no longer exists. In any other circumstance his childish behavior would’ve been the last straw. However, watching Damien have an even bigger public meltdown is definitely not something I’m in the mood for tonight.
Just when I’m about to wallow in a pit of self-pity, I spot my so-called friends all the way across the room, making them hard to see through the crowd. They’re in the corner of the room, like they want to be out of sight, gathered in a tight circle to keep others out. Creeping closer to the edge of the rink, I try to get a better look. Damien appears to be doing most of the talking, gesturing wildly as the others listen. James’s bulky arms are crossed over his chest, and Zoe stands next to them, closing out the huddle.
Finally, she holds up a hand, bringing Damien’s ranting to an abrupt halt. She says something forcefully, and the boys are silent. I inch closer to their hiding spot, my curiosity burning brightly.
They notice me approach, and their body language rapidly changes. Zoe straightens, clearing her expression and fixing me with a large smile. Damien gives me a forlorn look before storming off, and James winks, following him.
I head over to Zoe, and she keeps the grin plastered on her face.
“Hey, babe.” She greets me. “Having fun?”
“What were you guys talking about?”
Zoe tilts her head, looking at me confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Just now,” I push.
“Oh,” she says. “Damien was just being dramatic about something. But don’t worry, I took care of it.”
“How?’
She laughs shortly. “God, Allie. What’s with the interrogation? Not everything we do has to involve you.”
We maintain eye contact for several beats, and it’s as if we’re waiting to see which one of us will concede and give the other one the victory.
“Anything else you want to ask me?”
My face clouds over for a moment before I match her expression, my lips curling upward. “What’s the point of asking if I won’t get a straight answer?”
“So dramatic,” she scolds patronizingly. “I guess that’s why you’re the actress of the group.”
Once again, she slips away into the crowd, and I watch her disappear. For whatever reason, that’s my tipping point. I refuse to waste any more time waiting for Zoe to be a good friend. I find Audrey sitting on a bench in the process of removing her skates.
“Hey,” I breathe when I reach her.
“My feet are killing me,” she whines.
“Can we go home?” I ask bluntly. “Like, now?”
Audrey looks at me in surprise. “Really? But the party isn’t over.”
“It is to me.”
Much to my relief, she doesn’t question me, and after catching up with Parker, we leave Rockwell’s far behind us.
09 | Intend
I have trouble sleeping all weekend. By the time Monday morning rolls around, I give up on sleep entirely well before it’s time to get up for school despite how much both my body and mind are begging for rest.
The events of Friday night have been festering more and more each day until it’s all that I’m able to think about, and the image of my friends hiding in the corner of the room has branded itself into my mind.
I knew adjusting to my life would be hard, but I didn’t think everything would be so damn complicated.
On Saturday, Sofia took Audrey, Parker, and me out for dinner to have a proper birthday celebration. Nobody explicitly told her, but she seemed to sense that things at the party had gone awry and that I needed something to make up for it. Even though my cell phone was practically an early birthday present, Sofia made sure to shower me with a ton of smaller gifts. While I may not be comfortable enough to truly consider them family yet, it’s clear they’re trying, and the whole day left me with a tender feeling in my chest.
Yesterday, Audrey helped me set up a new Instagram account. She assumed I wanted one to keep in touch with everyone from school, but really, I wanted a way to look at Zoe’s private account. After opening the app on my phone, I scroll through my timeline, seeing a slew of photos from the party. Zoe posted the one of us in her bedroom mirror, along with a deceivingly heartfelt birthday message, and I glower at the screen, teeth gritting. I don’t want to see her today or put any amount of effort into pretending that I do.
The drama department’s account pops up, and I quickly tap on it, eager to see more. Their most recent post is my yearbook photo, with a caption mentioning my accident and wishing me a speedy recovery. The rest of their feed is pictures from various productions, similar to the ones Ms. Warren showed me. I see myself on stage, deep in the middle of an emotional scene, then posing with my cast mates afterward, the glow of excitement fresh in my cheeks.
There’s a link on their profile leading to a website, and I follow it, navigating until I find a section with past performances. Romeo and Juliet is the first one to capture my attention, and I watch the video, skipping through it until I see myself appear. As soon as I set foot on the stage, my chest constricts. It’s me, but it’s someone else. She speaks with my voice and moves with my body, even though I’ve never met her. It almost feels violating. I watch until I can’t stomach it anymore.
Throwing my phone to the side, I crawl out of bed and slink down the stairs to make a cup of tea. To my surprise, Audrey is already awake, too, sitting at the counter, huddled over a mug of coffee. She looks up as I enter, clearing her throat, and I don’t miss the dark circles under her eyes.
“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse.
“Are you okay?”
It takes her a while to answer, lip trembling violently. “Parker left.”
“Seriously?”
Audrey shrugs helplessly. “He’s gone. He broke up with me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Guilt instantly wraps around the words, and I hope it passes for sympathy.
At that, her face crumples. “I didn’t see it coming at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
Putting aside my discomfort, I loop my arms around her shoulders. Without hesitation, she latches onto me tightly, doing her best to stifle her sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling light headed.
Parker told me at the party that he was going to leave, but I didn’t think he would do it so soon. I thought I had more time to mentally prepare myself for Audrey’s heartbreak, more time to brace myself for the influx of self-hatred I’m about to experience.
“You don’t deserve this,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.
She whimpers in response before releasing me, and I take a step back as she wipes her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m a mess,” she apologizes, voice thick. “I can still take you to school today, I just need a second.”
“Take your time,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” Audrey says. “Thanks, though.”
After giving her a fleeting smile, I hurry to the bathroom, feeling as though I’m going to vomit, but everything stays bottled up inside, the way it always does.
Upon entering the English classroom, I greet Ms. Warren timidly, staring at the floor to keep from looking in Zoe’s direction as I pass her desk.
“Allie,” Zoe says softly, reaching out a hand, and her fingertips graze my arm.
I don’t acknowledge her. Maybe I’m being overly dramatic by hanging on to what happened at the party, but I can’t help the way I feel. Friday night gave me a better indication about the true nature of our friendship, and it’s hard to pretend things are normal.
Setting my books down on my desk, I make eye contact with Mason, sitting in the seat next to mine as usual. I feel a wave of embarrassment as I’m reminded of the way Damien treated him. In my periphery, I see him peer at me before he quickly looks away.
I take a pen out of my pencil case, fiddling with it between my fingers, then take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I’m sorry about the other night.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“The way Damien acted was obnoxious,” I say, grimacing. “I feel bad that you left right away.” I’m confident the rest of the night would’ve gone a lot better if he’d stayed.
“You don’t have to apologize for him,” he says. “He’s not you.”
“But I asked you to come, and you didn’t have a good time,” I persist.
At that, his lips curve upward ever so slightly, and I wonder if it’s the first time he’s actually smiled at me. “It wasn’t all that bad until that point,” he says.
“Really?”
Ms. Warren shuffles papers at the front of the room, humming under her breath, and a low roar of chatter floats around the room. I can sense Zoe watching us from her desk, needles of irritation pricking at my skin.
“Alina,” he continues, lowering his voice, face somber once more. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Of course, Ms. Warren decides that now is the time to start class, cutting off all external conversation. Mason’s dark eyebrows draw together, and he doesn’t look at me anymore.
We dive back into our study of Macbeth, and when the bell rings at the end, Mason only casts me a fleeting, unreadable glance before exiting the room. I feel a sting of disappointment, gathering my books from my desk as I prepare to try to avoid Zoe once more. This time, she springs up from her seat, following me out of the room.
“Allie, wait up,” she says, sounding exasperated, struggling to maintain my hurried pace.
I ignore her, reaching my locker and pulling it open after twisting the dial on the combination lock. After I’ve traded out my books, she reaches forward and snaps the door shut. I flinch, looking at her for the first time. Her lips are pressed into a firm line as she assesses my expression. She looks perfectly put together as usual, from her pin-straight hair to the matching plaid of her skirt and headband, and it irritates me.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks finally. “I’ll take that look as a yes.” I move to walk away before she catches my arm. “Is this about Friday?”
“What do you think?”
“Allie, I’m sorry.” She continues when she sees my skepticism. “Really, I am. I was being selfish.”
There isn’t long before our next class, and there’s a large part of me that’s tempted to walk away and ignore her apology. But I decide to be the bigger person. The least I can do is allow her a conversation.
“You could’ve just thrown a party without pretending it was for my birthday,” I point out, hugging my notebook to my chest, feeling tense. “Maybe stuff like that was normal for us before, but things are different now.”
“I know,” she admits. “I really did want to do something nice for you, but I guess I got carried away. And I broke my promise. I kind of ditched you, huh?”
“Kind of?”
“Okay, I totally ditched you. That was wrong of me. I’m not winning Friend of the Year anytime soon,” she says. “Come on, will you let me make it up to you?”
Despite my best efforts, I feel my resolve wearing down. “How?”
“Anything you want. Say the word and we’ll do it.”
I hum, tapping a finger to my chin and pretending to consider. “Give me some time to think of an appropriate punishment.”
She breaks into a grin, looping her arm through mine as we prepare to walk down the hall. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
We head to our next classes only to stop abruptly at the sight of two unfamiliar girls blocking our path. My smile fades as I take in the anger etched into their expressions, seemingly directed at me, before sharing a worried look with Zoe. She places a hand on her hip, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Um, hi,” I say cautiously. “Can we help you with something?”
“I see you’re continuing to play pretend,” one of them says. She’s a tall brunet with thick-rimmed glasses, and her voice drips with malice. In a way, she looks familiar, but I can’t place her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on,” she continues, and her companion scoffs. “You don’t seriously expect us all to believe you really lost your memory. It seems terribly convenient. We were giving you space to recover from your little ‘accident,’ but clearly you’re doing well, judging by your party last weekend.”
“You think I’m faking?” I ask incredulously.
The words bring me back to my return to school, to the snippets of conversation I overheard against my best wishes. Trepidation twists in my gut.
“Of course,” the second girl breaks in, mouth curling into a sneer. “How else could you get out of paying for all the awful shit you’ve done?”
“Jesus, Whitney,” Zoe says. “Take it down several notches.”
“Well, you two have certainly made up,” she points out, laughing shortly. Beside me, Zoe stiffens. “Do we have Allie’s amnesia to thank for that too?”
“Zoe, what is she talking about?”
“Nothing,” she says, the word clipped.
Even Whitney looks confused by Zoe’s behavior, and the brunet speaks again, bringing the attention back to me. “Anyway,” she says. “Just because you’ve magically forgotten the fact that you’re an evil bitch, that doesn’t mean the rest of us have. My family certainly hasn’t.”
Overhead, the bell rings, and I’m late to my next class, but I can’t make myself move. In my head, I hear Ms. Warren’s voice telling me how I used to clash with other students.
“Did you lose your hearing too?” she presses.
“For God’s sake, give it a rest,” Zoe snaps, taking a step toward them. “This is getting ridiculous. Allie doesn’t even remember either of you, so you can take the sticks out of your asses now.”
“But—”
“Shove it, Amber,” Zoe says simply, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the hallway in the opposite direction of the biology classroom.
I stumble along behind her, grateful to have her support, but still feeling shaken from the conversation. My mind races as I try to process what just happened, and Zoe guides us out the back door of the school, letting it fall closed behind us with a sigh. I shiver absentmindedly, rattled by the late March breeze, and wrap my arms around my torso.
Zoe sweeps her hair over her shoulder, appearing agitated as she leans against the brick wall. We’re sheltered by the overhang of the roof, and beyond it, a light flow of raindrops trickles to the ground, watering the rose bushes lining the building.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask finally, my voice not as strong as I’d have liked it to be.
“They were just trying to start shit,” she says firmly. “Ignore them.”
“Zoe, I want to know,” I push. “Tell me what I did to them to make them hate me so much.”
Zoe drops her gaze to the pavement beneath us and scrapes her oxfords against it, expression unreadable. “It’s not like they didn’t deserve it,” she mumbles, before taking a deep breath, straightening out to look at me. “Amber is always trying to get a reaction out of people. She lies. And Whitney just follows her blindly.”
“Ms. Warren made it seem like I had a problem getting along with people.”
She considers this for a few beats, visibly shifting her weight between her feet. “When you have something other people want, they hate you for it,” she remarks.
“What do I have that other people want?”
“Seriously, Allie,” Zoe says, laughing without humor. “Look around. Things might have changed since you came back, but it wasn’t always like this. People are constantly staring at you, and it’s not just because you nearly died.” My frown deepens. She sighs again, sounding frustrated. “You have this . . . magnetism. Everyone wants to be around you or be you.”
The words make heat rush to my face, but I shake my head. “I don’t believe that’s true.”
“It is true,” she says. “A talented actress, dating the captain of the soccer team, charming, drop-dead gorgeous. It’s like a superpower. You’ve even got Mason Byrne wrapped around your finger now. Throughout all of high school, I’ve barely seen him hang out with anyone, and suddenly he’s following you around like a lost puppy.”
He gives me a wounded look. “Sorry for showing that I care.”
“Come on,” I say. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do I?” he says. “Every time I try to get close to you, you push me away.”
“Damien,” I say, my tone sounding as tired as I feel. “Stop.”
“I wanna know why you won’t give me a chance.”
“That’s not fair.”
“How is it not fair?” he protests.
“Because you’re putting so much pressure on me,” I say, pointing a finger at his chest. “And you have zero understanding of how I feel. Being with you is—”
I stop short, exhaling. The pain in my head throbs obnoxiously as the party continues on around us. My unfinished sentence hangs in the air, and I have the desire to either swallow the words and take them back or vomit everything onto the floor.
I think we should break up is on the tip of my tongue, but this would be the worst possible time to say it. Instead, I sigh, forcing the tension to leave my body, and he avoids looking at me directly. “Can we not do this now?” I plead, my voice gentle, suddenly aware of a few pairs of eyes watching us. “This is a party. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“Fine. I hope you enjoy yourself.”
Without another word he strides away from me, clearly upset. It must be hard for him to give up on our long-time relationship, but what we have right now isn’t healthy for either of us. It’s exhausting, and nobody is happy. He should understand that now is not a good time for us to be together.
Relatively speaking, he’s only a few steps above feeling like a total stranger to me, meanwhile, he’s hung up on a version of a girl who no longer exists. In any other circumstance his childish behavior would’ve been the last straw. However, watching Damien have an even bigger public meltdown is definitely not something I’m in the mood for tonight.
Just when I’m about to wallow in a pit of self-pity, I spot my so-called friends all the way across the room, making them hard to see through the crowd. They’re in the corner of the room, like they want to be out of sight, gathered in a tight circle to keep others out. Creeping closer to the edge of the rink, I try to get a better look. Damien appears to be doing most of the talking, gesturing wildly as the others listen. James’s bulky arms are crossed over his chest, and Zoe stands next to them, closing out the huddle.
Finally, she holds up a hand, bringing Damien’s ranting to an abrupt halt. She says something forcefully, and the boys are silent. I inch closer to their hiding spot, my curiosity burning brightly.
They notice me approach, and their body language rapidly changes. Zoe straightens, clearing her expression and fixing me with a large smile. Damien gives me a forlorn look before storming off, and James winks, following him.
I head over to Zoe, and she keeps the grin plastered on her face.
“Hey, babe.” She greets me. “Having fun?”
“What were you guys talking about?”
Zoe tilts her head, looking at me confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Just now,” I push.
“Oh,” she says. “Damien was just being dramatic about something. But don’t worry, I took care of it.”
“How?’
She laughs shortly. “God, Allie. What’s with the interrogation? Not everything we do has to involve you.”
We maintain eye contact for several beats, and it’s as if we’re waiting to see which one of us will concede and give the other one the victory.
“Anything else you want to ask me?”
My face clouds over for a moment before I match her expression, my lips curling upward. “What’s the point of asking if I won’t get a straight answer?”
“So dramatic,” she scolds patronizingly. “I guess that’s why you’re the actress of the group.”
Once again, she slips away into the crowd, and I watch her disappear. For whatever reason, that’s my tipping point. I refuse to waste any more time waiting for Zoe to be a good friend. I find Audrey sitting on a bench in the process of removing her skates.
“Hey,” I breathe when I reach her.
“My feet are killing me,” she whines.
“Can we go home?” I ask bluntly. “Like, now?”
Audrey looks at me in surprise. “Really? But the party isn’t over.”
“It is to me.”
Much to my relief, she doesn’t question me, and after catching up with Parker, we leave Rockwell’s far behind us.
09 | Intend
I have trouble sleeping all weekend. By the time Monday morning rolls around, I give up on sleep entirely well before it’s time to get up for school despite how much both my body and mind are begging for rest.
The events of Friday night have been festering more and more each day until it’s all that I’m able to think about, and the image of my friends hiding in the corner of the room has branded itself into my mind.
I knew adjusting to my life would be hard, but I didn’t think everything would be so damn complicated.
On Saturday, Sofia took Audrey, Parker, and me out for dinner to have a proper birthday celebration. Nobody explicitly told her, but she seemed to sense that things at the party had gone awry and that I needed something to make up for it. Even though my cell phone was practically an early birthday present, Sofia made sure to shower me with a ton of smaller gifts. While I may not be comfortable enough to truly consider them family yet, it’s clear they’re trying, and the whole day left me with a tender feeling in my chest.
Yesterday, Audrey helped me set up a new Instagram account. She assumed I wanted one to keep in touch with everyone from school, but really, I wanted a way to look at Zoe’s private account. After opening the app on my phone, I scroll through my timeline, seeing a slew of photos from the party. Zoe posted the one of us in her bedroom mirror, along with a deceivingly heartfelt birthday message, and I glower at the screen, teeth gritting. I don’t want to see her today or put any amount of effort into pretending that I do.
The drama department’s account pops up, and I quickly tap on it, eager to see more. Their most recent post is my yearbook photo, with a caption mentioning my accident and wishing me a speedy recovery. The rest of their feed is pictures from various productions, similar to the ones Ms. Warren showed me. I see myself on stage, deep in the middle of an emotional scene, then posing with my cast mates afterward, the glow of excitement fresh in my cheeks.
There’s a link on their profile leading to a website, and I follow it, navigating until I find a section with past performances. Romeo and Juliet is the first one to capture my attention, and I watch the video, skipping through it until I see myself appear. As soon as I set foot on the stage, my chest constricts. It’s me, but it’s someone else. She speaks with my voice and moves with my body, even though I’ve never met her. It almost feels violating. I watch until I can’t stomach it anymore.
Throwing my phone to the side, I crawl out of bed and slink down the stairs to make a cup of tea. To my surprise, Audrey is already awake, too, sitting at the counter, huddled over a mug of coffee. She looks up as I enter, clearing her throat, and I don’t miss the dark circles under her eyes.
“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse.
“Are you okay?”
It takes her a while to answer, lip trembling violently. “Parker left.”
“Seriously?”
Audrey shrugs helplessly. “He’s gone. He broke up with me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Guilt instantly wraps around the words, and I hope it passes for sympathy.
At that, her face crumples. “I didn’t see it coming at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
Putting aside my discomfort, I loop my arms around her shoulders. Without hesitation, she latches onto me tightly, doing her best to stifle her sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling light headed.
Parker told me at the party that he was going to leave, but I didn’t think he would do it so soon. I thought I had more time to mentally prepare myself for Audrey’s heartbreak, more time to brace myself for the influx of self-hatred I’m about to experience.
“You don’t deserve this,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.
She whimpers in response before releasing me, and I take a step back as she wipes her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m a mess,” she apologizes, voice thick. “I can still take you to school today, I just need a second.”
“Take your time,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” Audrey says. “Thanks, though.”
After giving her a fleeting smile, I hurry to the bathroom, feeling as though I’m going to vomit, but everything stays bottled up inside, the way it always does.
Upon entering the English classroom, I greet Ms. Warren timidly, staring at the floor to keep from looking in Zoe’s direction as I pass her desk.
“Allie,” Zoe says softly, reaching out a hand, and her fingertips graze my arm.
I don’t acknowledge her. Maybe I’m being overly dramatic by hanging on to what happened at the party, but I can’t help the way I feel. Friday night gave me a better indication about the true nature of our friendship, and it’s hard to pretend things are normal.
Setting my books down on my desk, I make eye contact with Mason, sitting in the seat next to mine as usual. I feel a wave of embarrassment as I’m reminded of the way Damien treated him. In my periphery, I see him peer at me before he quickly looks away.
I take a pen out of my pencil case, fiddling with it between my fingers, then take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I’m sorry about the other night.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“The way Damien acted was obnoxious,” I say, grimacing. “I feel bad that you left right away.” I’m confident the rest of the night would’ve gone a lot better if he’d stayed.
“You don’t have to apologize for him,” he says. “He’s not you.”
“But I asked you to come, and you didn’t have a good time,” I persist.
At that, his lips curve upward ever so slightly, and I wonder if it’s the first time he’s actually smiled at me. “It wasn’t all that bad until that point,” he says.
“Really?”
Ms. Warren shuffles papers at the front of the room, humming under her breath, and a low roar of chatter floats around the room. I can sense Zoe watching us from her desk, needles of irritation pricking at my skin.
“Alina,” he continues, lowering his voice, face somber once more. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Of course, Ms. Warren decides that now is the time to start class, cutting off all external conversation. Mason’s dark eyebrows draw together, and he doesn’t look at me anymore.
We dive back into our study of Macbeth, and when the bell rings at the end, Mason only casts me a fleeting, unreadable glance before exiting the room. I feel a sting of disappointment, gathering my books from my desk as I prepare to try to avoid Zoe once more. This time, she springs up from her seat, following me out of the room.
“Allie, wait up,” she says, sounding exasperated, struggling to maintain my hurried pace.
I ignore her, reaching my locker and pulling it open after twisting the dial on the combination lock. After I’ve traded out my books, she reaches forward and snaps the door shut. I flinch, looking at her for the first time. Her lips are pressed into a firm line as she assesses my expression. She looks perfectly put together as usual, from her pin-straight hair to the matching plaid of her skirt and headband, and it irritates me.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks finally. “I’ll take that look as a yes.” I move to walk away before she catches my arm. “Is this about Friday?”
“What do you think?”
“Allie, I’m sorry.” She continues when she sees my skepticism. “Really, I am. I was being selfish.”
There isn’t long before our next class, and there’s a large part of me that’s tempted to walk away and ignore her apology. But I decide to be the bigger person. The least I can do is allow her a conversation.
“You could’ve just thrown a party without pretending it was for my birthday,” I point out, hugging my notebook to my chest, feeling tense. “Maybe stuff like that was normal for us before, but things are different now.”
“I know,” she admits. “I really did want to do something nice for you, but I guess I got carried away. And I broke my promise. I kind of ditched you, huh?”
“Kind of?”
“Okay, I totally ditched you. That was wrong of me. I’m not winning Friend of the Year anytime soon,” she says. “Come on, will you let me make it up to you?”
Despite my best efforts, I feel my resolve wearing down. “How?”
“Anything you want. Say the word and we’ll do it.”
I hum, tapping a finger to my chin and pretending to consider. “Give me some time to think of an appropriate punishment.”
She breaks into a grin, looping her arm through mine as we prepare to walk down the hall. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
We head to our next classes only to stop abruptly at the sight of two unfamiliar girls blocking our path. My smile fades as I take in the anger etched into their expressions, seemingly directed at me, before sharing a worried look with Zoe. She places a hand on her hip, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Um, hi,” I say cautiously. “Can we help you with something?”
“I see you’re continuing to play pretend,” one of them says. She’s a tall brunet with thick-rimmed glasses, and her voice drips with malice. In a way, she looks familiar, but I can’t place her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on,” she continues, and her companion scoffs. “You don’t seriously expect us all to believe you really lost your memory. It seems terribly convenient. We were giving you space to recover from your little ‘accident,’ but clearly you’re doing well, judging by your party last weekend.”
“You think I’m faking?” I ask incredulously.
The words bring me back to my return to school, to the snippets of conversation I overheard against my best wishes. Trepidation twists in my gut.
“Of course,” the second girl breaks in, mouth curling into a sneer. “How else could you get out of paying for all the awful shit you’ve done?”
“Jesus, Whitney,” Zoe says. “Take it down several notches.”
“Well, you two have certainly made up,” she points out, laughing shortly. Beside me, Zoe stiffens. “Do we have Allie’s amnesia to thank for that too?”
“Zoe, what is she talking about?”
“Nothing,” she says, the word clipped.
Even Whitney looks confused by Zoe’s behavior, and the brunet speaks again, bringing the attention back to me. “Anyway,” she says. “Just because you’ve magically forgotten the fact that you’re an evil bitch, that doesn’t mean the rest of us have. My family certainly hasn’t.”
Overhead, the bell rings, and I’m late to my next class, but I can’t make myself move. In my head, I hear Ms. Warren’s voice telling me how I used to clash with other students.
“Did you lose your hearing too?” she presses.
“For God’s sake, give it a rest,” Zoe snaps, taking a step toward them. “This is getting ridiculous. Allie doesn’t even remember either of you, so you can take the sticks out of your asses now.”
“But—”
“Shove it, Amber,” Zoe says simply, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the hallway in the opposite direction of the biology classroom.
I stumble along behind her, grateful to have her support, but still feeling shaken from the conversation. My mind races as I try to process what just happened, and Zoe guides us out the back door of the school, letting it fall closed behind us with a sigh. I shiver absentmindedly, rattled by the late March breeze, and wrap my arms around my torso.
Zoe sweeps her hair over her shoulder, appearing agitated as she leans against the brick wall. We’re sheltered by the overhang of the roof, and beyond it, a light flow of raindrops trickles to the ground, watering the rose bushes lining the building.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask finally, my voice not as strong as I’d have liked it to be.
“They were just trying to start shit,” she says firmly. “Ignore them.”
“Zoe, I want to know,” I push. “Tell me what I did to them to make them hate me so much.”
Zoe drops her gaze to the pavement beneath us and scrapes her oxfords against it, expression unreadable. “It’s not like they didn’t deserve it,” she mumbles, before taking a deep breath, straightening out to look at me. “Amber is always trying to get a reaction out of people. She lies. And Whitney just follows her blindly.”
“Ms. Warren made it seem like I had a problem getting along with people.”
She considers this for a few beats, visibly shifting her weight between her feet. “When you have something other people want, they hate you for it,” she remarks.
“What do I have that other people want?”
“Seriously, Allie,” Zoe says, laughing without humor. “Look around. Things might have changed since you came back, but it wasn’t always like this. People are constantly staring at you, and it’s not just because you nearly died.” My frown deepens. She sighs again, sounding frustrated. “You have this . . . magnetism. Everyone wants to be around you or be you.”
The words make heat rush to my face, but I shake my head. “I don’t believe that’s true.”
“It is true,” she says. “A talented actress, dating the captain of the soccer team, charming, drop-dead gorgeous. It’s like a superpower. You’ve even got Mason Byrne wrapped around your finger now. Throughout all of high school, I’ve barely seen him hang out with anyone, and suddenly he’s following you around like a lost puppy.”
