Of course, she’s right not to believe me. But I have no truth to tell her.
She says she tried to talk to me last night, but I was already asleep. She has a lot of questions: Why did I run away from the dance floor after X and I kissed? Did X hurt me?
I tell her he hasn’t hurt me.
I tell her it was a goodbye kiss, but she says it didn’t look like that to her. She says that to her, that kiss looked like hello.
I roll away from her and face the wall, wishing I were a stranger to her, to everyone. Right now, I don’t want to be known. I don’t want anyone to know anything about me at all.
I ask her to leave. Not in a mean way. But in a way that lets her know I need to be alone. She says okay, but not before making sure I know that she loves me.
Sometime later—maybe an hour, or maybe two, or maybe ten—I check my phone. Everyone has texted. Everyone hascalled.
Except X. Not that I expect him to. Not after I ran away from him. Not after I broke up with him over text. He doesn’t call, and I don’t want him to. It’s better for both of us this way.
Over our group chat I tell Martin, Sophie and Cassidy that I’m fine and I’ll see them at school.
When Martin texts separately, I tell him about my vision. I tell him X will die in ten months. I tell him I’m not ready to talk about it and I never will be.
I thank Maggie for her congratulations. I tell Dad I’m fine, totally fine.
Of all the texts, Fifi’s is the one that almost gets me to feel something:today I’m so proud of you. finally you dance with your heart.
——
Mom lets me stay home from school for two days. By Tuesday night, she tells me I need to go back and face whatever it is I’m avoiding. She promises me it’ll be better than staying home.
She turns out to be right. Going back to school keeps me busy. I tell Sophie and Cassidy that X and I had a fight and that we aren’t together anymore. They want to know the details, but they understand that I’m not ready to talk about it yet.
Martin lets me call him and cry whenever I need to.
The rest of the week passes. The hardest time is just before I fall asleep, when the vision tries to slither its way into me. It tries, but I slam my mind shut. It’s easier than I expected. According to Mom, the human body can do all sorts of amazing things, including pass out, to protect itself from pain.
The first Saturday after the competition, Mom comes to see me in my room before leaving for another date with Dr. Bob.
“Your father is on his way,” she says.
I groan. “Why’s he coming over here?”
She frowns and sits down on my bed. “I thought things were getting better between you two,” she says.
I don’t say anything. Things were getting better, but that wasbefore.That was when I was starting to trust the world again. When Iwantedto trust the world again.
“Besides,” she says. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes at me and set her arms akimbo. “Have you showered today?”
I shake my head.
“Eaten?”
Another shake.
“Left the house?”
Her point is made.
