The next morning, Mandy finally comes home from college. I’m desperate to see my old friend again and to tell her all about everything that happened. Last time I talked to her, she only got a little bit of the details. When she comes over, I barely recognize her. Her hair has been dyed maroon and she now sports a little star tattoo on her wrist. She said she and her three friends in college all got the same tattoo before they went home for the holidays.
It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it hurts me anyway. Mandy is supposed to bemybest friend. We never got matching tattoos together. We’ve never even talked about something like that. I keep waiting for an opportunity to tell her about Clay, but she never shuts up. From the moment she comes over she’s going on and on about how much she loves college, and the hot TA’s and the hot college guys. She talks about parties and late night diners and how great it is to be free from her parents’ supervision.
She feels like a completely different person now. And maybe I’ve become a different person since I graduated high school, too. But now the people that we are don’t seem like they’d make good friends anymore.
Mandy doesn’t seem to notice. “So a bunch of people are going out to Shay Hawk’s house for a bonfire tonight,” Mandy says after we eat dinner with my parents. “You wanna go?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
The bonfire parties at Shay’s house were a staple of our high school life. She lives out on a farm with tons of land and it makes for a great hang out spot. Mandy and I ride over there in her car and soon, things feel like normal again. But normal isn’t fun to me. Normal makes me long for something better. I’m hanging out at the bonfire around all the people I went to high school with. Some of them are still dating the same people and others have moved on. All the guys are the same as always—boring and not my type.
I’m bundled up in my jacket, hovering my hands over the flames to warm them up when Mandy comes up, a red plastic cup in her hand. “You okay? You look bummed.”
I shrug. “I am bummed.”
“Why’s that?” she says.
I finally have a minute to tell my best friend all about my problems, and now that it’s here, and she’s looking at me and she’s ready to listen, I just don’t feel like it. Mandy and I are too different now. I’d rather talk to Keanna, or Bree, or Jenn. Those girls feel more like my friends now.
I turn to Mandy and give her a fake smile. “I’m bummed because my drink is empty.”
She rolls her eyes. “We can fix that.”
Another day goes by and I’m still not sure what I should do with Team Loco. I want to go back more than anything, but I’m not sure I can handle the whole Clay thing. I try really hard to make myself hate him, but I know that won’t happen. Maybe I just need some sense knocked into me.
I text Keanna on Wednesday night. Instead of replying, she calls me.
“Girl!” she says all excitedly on the phone. “I miss you! You’re coming to the Christmas party, right? I can’t wait.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. I haven’t gotten any emails from Team Loco about the party itinerary yet, but I’m sure it’ll come soon. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
“Always,” she says. “What’s up?”
“I’m trying to decide if I should go back to the internship in January.”
“Um, hell yes you should! Why is that even a question?”
I feel my cheeks warm. “You know why… Clay.”
“Has something else happened?”
“No, and that’s even worse. We haven’t talked at all since that stupid kiss and now it’s got me all crazy like I worry I won’t be able to handle being around him. And even still, part of me wonders if maybe he likes me too.”
“You should talk to him,” Keanna says.
I sigh. “Maybe at the party.”
“Just call him now.”
“I don’t have his number,” I say.
“I’ll text it to you,” she says. My heart speeds up at the idea of having Clay’s number. As if reading my mind, Keanna says, “Just call him. Trust me. You can’t let this ruin your internship… just call him and find out what’s up.”
I tell her I will, but hours after the fact, I’m still sitting here on my bed looking at Clay’s phone number on my phone screen. I’m too scared to call him. Would he even answer? What would I even say?
Finally, I decide to be strong.
Okay, maybe not strong enough tocallhim, but strong enough to text.
