“It’s too late for that. I’ve already fallen. I can’t go back. And Tracy, I don’t wantto.”
“Then tell her that,” she states like it’s the easiest thing on Earth todo.
“She wouldn’t let me talk. She stormed out, sayinggoodbye.”
“Connor, she may have said that, but she didn’t mean it. She’s scared. She needs you rightnow.”
“So what do Ido?”
“Give her the time of her life. Show her how you feel. That’s the only way she’ll listen. But, Connor”—she pauses—“don’t fuck it up. You may be blood, but she’s my bestfriend.”
I let out a rough laugh. “Well, thanks. Good to know you have myback.”
“Anytime.” Someone calls her name. “I gotta go. Let me know if you need anything. Love ya,bro.”
“You, too,” I say, wanting to bang my head on the counter until I know what todo.
14
Dear Diary,
Well,it was nice while it lasted, but he knows, so I had to end it. Lifesucks.
Mackenzie
Connor
It took stayingup all night, listening to music and wracking my brain, but I finally came up with exactly how to prove to her I’m not leaving, and we’ll fight thistogether.
Now I just need her to talk tome.
I text her a few times this morning, with simple things likeplease talk to meandlet me be there for you, but no answeryet.
I called on my lunch break, but she let it go tovoicemail:
Mackenzie, it’s me. I’ll be at your house around eight. Please, for us, come out withme.
Even though she doesn’t respond, I knock on her door at eight. Thankfully, she opens it, purse in her hand, and closes it quickly behindher.
“Sorry, I don’t want my roommates to know,” shewhispers.
I reach for her hand. “Hi there.” I smile, acting like nothing is wrong, and we’re back to where we were two daysago.
Her shoulders drop. “Hi.”
“Come with me. I have something to show you.” I intertwine my hand in hers and lead her down thehall.
Once our seatbelts are buckled, I pull away from thecurb.
She turns to me. “Connor, please just get it over with. What do you want to talk to meabout?”
“I don’t want to talk. Bepatient.”
She looks out the passenger window. “Stop acting like nothing’s wrong,” she states in a barely audible whisper as she wipes a tear that slipped from hereye.
My hand reaches for her again. “I’m not. I’m just not making our night solely about that. I want this. Sick or not. Not everything has to be aboutthat.”
“Before, I didn’t have to worry about anything. I didn’t have to wonder if you were being nice because you wanted to or because you felt bad for me. Now that’s all I think about. It’s not that easy,” shehuffs.
