“Maybe it’s her,” I whisper to Marcus, and even without context, even without explaining what I’m talking about, I know he understands. We have been through so many memories and dreams together. “Or me, I guess. It’s me.”
Somehow, no matter how hard I’ve tried to be good and attractive and smart and funny, to keep it tidy, I have failed. I am not enough.
Marcus curses. “It’s not you,” he says. “This is all him. It’s all Jason.”
I feel desperately sad, and then Marcus reaches out and pulls meto himself. He smells clean and cottony. I feel safe in Marcus’s arms, and I’d like to stay there for hours, just standing with him, having him hold me.
But as usual, the dream gods have their own plans, and even right there in each other’s arms, Marcus and I start losing each other. His face blurs, his torso becomes air. Over my shoulder, Jason and the other Zadie are walking, leaving through the gate they came in from, while Marcus and I are disappearing, fighting an unseeable force, being sucked into the tornado of the real world.
Twenty-Three
The text.
It takes on a whole new meaning now.
That’s my ring, Zadie.
On the night he broke up with me, Jason swore that there was nobody else. But what if he lied and he really gave the ring I’ve been wearing to someone else?
I’m so uninterested in getting up the next morning. In fact, I probablywouldn’tget up at all if there wasn’t someone on top of me. Actually, physically on top of me.
“What the hell?” My words come out muffled as I push the log of weight off me and sit up.
Mo bursts out laughing as she and Ambs end up in a heap on the ground.
“Aw, I told you it was too mean,” Amber says, standing up and throwing her arms around me.
“Your mom let us up,” Mo explains. “We were going to let you sleep, but then we thoughtnah.”
“You did look super serene, though,” Amber says.
“Really? Because I was having the worst fucking night,” I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Both my friends stare wide-eyed at my language.
“Well, itwas,” I insist.
“Was it a bad dream?” Amber sits on the edge of my bed andtakes my hand in hers as Mo goes over to my closet and rifles through it.
“Something like that.”
Ambs squeezes my hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I say.
“Well, we’re going to Tanner’s to drown our sorrows in pancakes and Canadian maple syrup,” Mo announces. “Do you want to, like, wash your face? Or is dry drool your new look?”
I sigh, pull myself up, and quietly start putting an outfit together. There doesn’t seem to be a need for an open secret today. My misery is written all over my face, and I can’t hide it no matter what I wear.
Behind me, Amber clears her throat, and I turn to face her. “So, um, I have news,” she says.
Mo’s look says, “Please don’t let it be Talon-related.”
“I applied to UMaine,” Amber says.
Mo and I stare at her, dumbfounded.
“But you’re going to New York,” I point out.
“Well, maybe not,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I always thought I would be dying to leave, but I don’t know…now I think I might want to stay.”
