I feel a burning sensation behind my eyes and in my nose. I know what it means. It means tears are imminent.
Deena steps up to me. With an expression that screams pity, she pats my arm. “Go on.” She nods to the door. “Go have fun.”
“Right.” I give her my fakest smile. “Fun.”
As I step toward the door, my brother asks, “Why the hell are you all dolled up? You’re going to get all sweaty.” He chuckles. “You sweat like a damn pig when you exert yourself even the slightest.”
Leave it to my brother to say the absolutely wrong thing. Because the first tear falls before I can stop it.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Joe is such a stupid jerk. “Why are you crying?”
I say the first thing that comes out of my mouth. “Cramps.” I know it’s the exact right thing to say, because my brother hates when my mom and I mention anything about our periods.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You know there’s no talking about your girl problems.” He’s glaring at me now. “You’re gonna bitch and moan about that shit all night, aren’t you?”
In the past, I’ve only done that to Joe for a laugh. It’s fun to make him uncomfortable. “You’re right. I’d better just stay home.”
“Agreed.” He nods and turns on his heel and heads out of my room, adding, “See ya” as he goes.
Wiping away a couple more tears, I look at my friend and roommate. “I couldn’t.”
“I don’t blame you, hon.” She wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry I got you excited about a date.”
“No. I knew it wasn’t.” I did. I really did. I just chose to believe her.
“Why is your brother such an asshole?”
I shrug, still wrapped up in her hug. “He’s always been a jerk.”
“He’s next-level jerk.”
“He really is.”
12
Becklyn
I haven’t feltlike doing much lately. Even going to class has been a challenge. I’ve gone but I haven’t been engaged. Not really.
Strange how depression can just come up on you like that. One minute you’re excited about life and the possibilities it holds. The next, all you want to do is sleep.
And eat.
“Oh. My.Gahhhd.”
Here we go. Deena.
“What?” I know what, but I might as well let her vent.
“I’m sick of this.”
“Sick of what?”
“Of you.” She points to me. “All this moping. I’m over it. Get your ass up. We’re going to the gym.”
“Uh. No. I’m not going to the gym.” No way. I’m not stepping foot into that place ever again.
“Yes.” She places her hands on her stupidly tiny hips. “We are.”
