I send a smile her way, grateful to have at least one person on my side. Hannah isn’t a terrible person. She’s less shady than Quinn and Gabby, but she’s a follower. I think she’d much rather blend in than stand out, which means sometimes backingup insults or staying quiet. I don’t blame her, though. I’ve been using the same method for as long as I can remember.
“It’s just like every dress, though. Don’t you want to be in something more glamorous?” Quinn asks as she walks out of her dressing room covered in blue tulle.
I roll my eyes and groan. There’s always another gala or event to attend, and everyone always expects the women to have a new dress to show. Men can recycle their same tuxedos time and time again and it’s not a big deal, but we have to spend hundreds on new dresses, just to what? Fit in? It’s a joke.
Not to mention it’s completely ironic we’re spending this much money on dresses when the gala is for charity. The system is completely backwards, but my parents have always been boisterous when it comes to showing off, so their galas are no exception. Gag me with a spoon.
“I think it’s all a big joke,” I mutter as I look at the mirror. It’s beautiful, but it feels so fake. Maybe I should show up in something I already own. It doesn’t seem like the most unreasonable thing in the world.
The silence around me feels tense all of a sudden. I turn to see all three girls staring at me. “What?”
“You think charity is a joke?” Quinn asks.
I roll my eyes. “If you cared about charity that much, you would donate all the time, not just when there’s a gala.”
“Who says we don’t?” Gabby cuts in, her face boiling with anger.
“Youdo. If you did donate, you probably wouldn’t be able to shut up about it. But since you haven’t mentioned a peep of it, I assume it’s not a thing.”
“Howdareyou—” Gabby marches forward, but Quinn grabs her arm and pulls her back.
“Leave it,” she grumbles. “She’s probably just irritated that Brent hasn’t called her back in a week.”
A laugh escapes me. “Oh? And what would you know about that, Q?”
She doesn’t give anything away, just smirks right in my face in the most annoying way. “Nothing,” she quips, then she turns to Gabby whose skin is turning redder by the second. “Let’s go ask for the tailoring options.”
When they walk away, I finally let out a breath. I can’t let these girls get to me, not when things are finally looking up after so many years. I can’t let them force me back into the dark, where there’s no warmth or love.
No Axl.
He doesn’t live in the dark. He lives his life full of color, right out in the open for everyone to see. He isn’t afraid to take a punch, or give one, and isn’t afraid to tell everyone exactly what he wants.Whohe wants.
It’s time for me to be just as brave.
I look over at Hannah in the corner, physically clutching one of the decorative pillows to her chest to protect herself. A sigh escapes me. I thought I was trying to prove a point, but I think I made everyone uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. She looks up at me with surprised eyes. “I think it’s just been a hard week.”
She nods softly, accepting the olive branch. “Yeah, but you don’t have to be sorry.” She puts the pillow aside and stands up. “We live in such a rigid town. Who’s going to hold us accountable if not each other?”
Now I’m the shocked one. I look at my friend through a new lens, seeing her for who she is. There are bags underneath her eyes from the stress, and her smile is only half-mast. I reach out and take her hand.
“Everyone else may be a bullshitter,” I start, “but let’s not be that way with each other. Not anymore, okay?”
Her face brightens the smallest amount, hopeful but still wary. “Okay.”
And even though there’s a tough road ahead, I can rest a bit easier knowing I have a friend to help me through it.
FOURTEEN
MAY, 2000 – 18 YEARS OLD
The past week has been hectic. Ever since the old building caught on fire, there’s been a local freak-out. People jumping out of their skin from the slightest noise. It’s not like anyone wasinsidethe building, but everyone in town still thinks it was a targeted attack.
I’m also anxious, but not for the reason everyone thinks. I remember skipping off to the old gym to get high that day, right before last period, which is apparently when the fire started. I recall walking in, sitting down, lighting the joint. I coughed my lungs out on the first few hits, and then everything goes blank. There’s not a single recollection after that, which boggles me to no end.
I couldn’t have started that fire, could I? And if I did… how did I getout?
