“DO YOU WANNA HANG OUTsometime?” Rick asked in a rush.
Did she? The conversation didn’t exactly flow, but it didn’t grind to a halt. As long as they talked about music or their favorite candy bars, they’d be fine. “S-sure.”
“Cool! Wow. Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. Okay.” What was happening? Was this thing called crazy college life actually going to work out for her?
“Sweet! I’ll meet you in front of Pettiford and we can get dinner?”
Her cheeks lifted in a genuine grin. “Sounds good.”
There was a sudden awkward pause. “Um. Good night?” Rick leaned forward hesitantly, clearly to the side of her face.
Sophie felt something inside of her melt.Oh my gosh. That’s so old-fashioned. So sweet! The guy that kisses your cheek has to be decent, even if we don’t have much in common. Yet.
No one, aside from her family members, had ever kissed her cheek, or her lips for that matter. She giggled a little and leaned forward as well, cheek turning shyly to meet his lips as an inner chant of “Don’t make a big deal, don’t screw this up” began inside her head.
Instead of his lips, the coarse fabric of his sweatshirt cuff swiped her cheek. “Hey!”
“Sorry. I have a talc allergy. Talc is in a lot of make-up. I found out the hard way.” Rick swiped again, frowning. “Boy, that stuff is really painted on good! Is it the kind that only comes off with special gel?”
“Wh-what?” Sophie backed away, hand to her face.
A look of horrified realization crossed Rick’s face. “Wait! Is that your actualskin?”
Sophie’s brain couldn’t even form words. She just stared, eyes suddenly filling, making the handsome, sandy-haired boy before her blur.
“Oh. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry! I’m such a jerk. I’m sorry. It’s just—well, it’s Halloween, right? I didn’t know.”
Taking a steadying breath, Sophie nodded, trying to force the smile back on her face.Okay. So, this was good, right? Progress? Growth? Open communication. He made a mistake and he apologized. He sounds as miserable and mortified as me. See? Something in common.“No, it’s cool. Actually, a lot of people have said—”
Rick backed up, something different in the set of his features now. Cautious. “Is it contagious? Like, I heard people with leprosy can have that dead white skin. I didn’t know lepers were so beautiful, but I do know it’s contagious. Right?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have it. I’m not contagious. I’m also not interested in dinner anymore. I lost my appetite.” She spun on her heel and ditched inside Pettiford before Rick could stammer out his next mortified apology.
Sophie ran up the steps, heedless of her fancy dress and the cello banging against her hip as she held in her sobs.
The dam burst as her door clicked shut beside her, the princess back in her tower once more. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.”
She thought she couldn’t be broken anymore, but you can always step on the pieces and grind them into powder.
Powder. White. Like her skin. She’d tried foundation in darker shades when she was eleven and twelve and didn’t work. She used a whole tube to do her hands, face, arms, and neck. It wiped off on her clothes and bedding, leaving tan stains everywhere. Besides, it was too expensive for a kid to buy a tube of Max Factor every few days.
Sophie stopped sobbing and started packing.
She could wear the mask every day. She could stay cold and alone. She could keep everyone away.
No, her mistake was thinking that she could find friends here.
Thoughts of Jesse’s face, the same color as hers, his smile, and the easy way they laughed suddenly brought forth a fresh burst of pain and the tears that came with it.
Trying had been too painful. Getting glimpses of that “normal” life was too painful, knowing it would only stay a glimpse, never a full picture. A picture she’d never be in.
Sophie set the alarm on her phone for four AM. She was getting out of here first thing in the morning, without saying goodbye or seeing anyone. She wasn’t stupid enough to drive home starting now, just about midnight on Halloween. Once adrenaline and anxiety passed, she’d crash and sleep like the dead.
As she put the phone on the desk, plugged in to charge, she looked at the lock screen photo. Her parents, embracing, smiling, holding her high school graduation cap between them. She could have called them right now, woken them up, and they’d have come to get her. They’d have talked to her all night long, kept her awake while driving.
“No.” She let the phone drop. She wasn’t going to call them until she was almost home, maybe not until she was looking for a parking place outside of their apartment building. Calling them to say she was coming home meant she’d failed. She wanted to put off hearing the disappointment in their voices for as long as possible.
