She broke off in a violent sob. Not the delicate kind you expect when a girl cries. Not anything like the shaky breath from earlier. No, these cries rocked her entire body and she was making these awful heaving noises when she would go to take abreath.
Even though I had my own crap going on and I barely knew the girl curled up in my blanket crying in my back yard, I wanted to comfort her. So I did. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, ignoring the pain in my face when she bumped my cheek. I ran my hand through her hair as she curled closer to me and her cries slowly became softer and her breathing steadier. Her body slowly relaxed into mine. And while I wasn’t sure where they came from, maybe some deep part of me that refused to be broken by my current circumstances, I whispered tender words into her ear telling her I was here. I reassured her I would always be here and I hadn’t goneanywhere.
We sat there for who knows how long before her body stiffened again and she sat back up. “I gotta go,” she blurted while refusing to make eye contact with me. She fumbled with the blanket for a few seconds before finding her way out. I heard her mutter something under her breath before jumping down andwalkingaway.
She didn’t look back assheleft.
I immediately missed her, though I couldn’t explain why. Was it that I was just acknowledging I had missed my friend all these years? Or maybe I just longed for the human connection I had been starved for these past few months. Whatever it was, I wanted her back, but knew I wouldn’t go chasingafterher.
I grabbed my blanket and went backinside.
ChapterEleven
Katie
“Please, Gwen.”My voice came out whinier than I intended. “I really need to get some warmer clothes. My Florida blood just ain’t cut outforthis.”
“I know, but I really have a lot of homework. Bio is kicking my ass.” I heard loud music in the background and I wondered just how much studying she was actually getting accomplished at herhouse.
“Ok, how about this? I’ll come get you so you can study a little longer. You can even study in the car on the way to the mall. And,” I added in a sing song voice, “I’ll bring copious amounts ofcaffeine.”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Please, please, please, please, please,” I beggedshamelessly.
I heard her resigned sigh on the other end of the line and knew I won. “Fine. Get me the biggest mocha money can buy and I’ll tag along. But seriously, I can’t stay out all day. I really do need tostudy.”
“Yay! I’ll be rightthere.”
I had woken up completely confused about how to process what happened the night before. I had walked to Julian’s house in the middle of the night in my pajamas. It had to have been in the 50s or 60s. Not to mention the fact I wasn’t even sure if it was Julian’s house anymore. What was Ithinking?
When I had snuck around the back of the house and saw the trampoline, it had felt like going home. Even more so than living in my actual childhood home. I had made myself comfortable not thinking about any possible consequences, like Julian Alvarado walking up andcatchingme.
And then the way he had comforted me. I didn’t know what to think about that and I needed a second opinion like nobody’s business. I was glad Gwen made herself available. I knew she had a life outside of me. But being new here, and frankly not making much of an effort to get to know anyone else, I needed aperson.
She was myperson.
I booked it to her house as soon as we hung up. Twenty minutes later, Gwen and I were on our way to the mall in Boise, drinks in hand. The radio played some cheesy pop song and I was shocked to hear Gwen singing as loudly as she was. She sounded terrible and I looked over at her, my face crinkled in confusion. Did she know how out of tuneshewas?
“Yes, I am quite aware of my singing ability, or lack thereof,” she said seemingly reading my mind. “But I don’t care. This song is too stinking catchy and plus, singing iscathartic.”
“Cathartic? Okay, Miss SAT. You’ve graduated. No need to push the power wordsanymore.”
“Oh, whatever.” She leaned across the seat and pushed my arm. It caused me to veer slightly into the other lane. Thankfully, these desert roads were almost always empty. “There are just some things that make you feel better. Lots of ice cream, a good cry, and singing at the top of your lungs.” As if to punctuate her point, she started back into the song seamlessly, this time clutching her hands to her chest and closing her eyes like she was singing to a sold outarena.
I felt sorry for any crowd forced to listen to Gwen putting on aconcert.
She was right though. There were some things that had the power to make you feel better no matter what. I knew that first hand after falling apart in Julian’s arms the night before. Maybe that was why I wasn’t feeling the jams this morning. I still couldn’t believe how safe I felt lying on the trampoline with him and ugly crying until I couldn’t cry anymore. It wasn’t until after I had completely exposed myself to him, that I realized just how weirditwas.
I got the hell out of Dodge and didn’t look back. I did not want to bump into him again. Not at the diner. Not on our street. Anddefinitelynot in his back yard, wearing mypajamas.
I turned the music down in my dad’s Bronco. He’d been letting me drive it whenever I wanted. He claimed he was glad to see it getting some use. With him working from home every day, he barely drove it. I was glad I had a vehicle at my beck and call. Although, maybe it was time to get my own vehicle soon. I wasn’t lacking in funds. But back to the topicathand.
“So, speaking of a good cry.” I started, unsure of how much detail I planned to go into. “I had one lastnight.”
“Oh, Katie, I’m so glad to hear it. Was it about your mom? Do you feel better?” She stopped for a split second before words spilled from her even faster. “Not that I’m glad you were crying or anything. Were you by yourself? Next time call me and I’ll bring the ice cream andwecan–”
“Gwen,” I cut her off before she could go on. It was obvious she wanted to be a good friend, but also that she didn’t really have experience with consoling people over the loss of a loved one. What eighteen-year-old did? “I wasn’t bymyself.”
