I hugged my pillow closer. ‘It was really powerful, being one of the things that Jac liked,’ I said. ‘It was even more powerful, being one of the things she loved. The first time she told me that she loved me, I thought I was going to explode. I’ve never had so many feelings at the same time.’
Dylan leaned against the bedframe, a slight furrow appearing between her perfect eyebrows.
‘Of course, when she decided she didn’t love me anymore, I also had a bunch of feelings,’ I said. ‘I’m still having a bunch of feelings. I don’t know when I’ll stop having a bunch of feelings. I’m kind of sick of it, to be honest.’
‘They’ll stop.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, not as sure as Ol’ I Know What I Know Jac, but pretty sure,’ Dylan said. ‘That’s what happened with me when my marriage broke down. It hurt and it hurt and it hurt for a long time. I couldn’t tell you exactly when it stopped hurting.But it did. There’s still a twinge sometimes, an old ache that flares up, but… it’ll go away in time.’
‘You know what was really comforting about Jac, though?’ I said. ‘She’d be able to tell me exactly when. She’d look at her diary, and she’d make some calculations, and she’d be like, “Mandie, this will stop hurting on May the second at 3.18 pm,” and she’d be so sure about it.’
‘Would she be right about it, though?’
‘God, no. She was wrong about shit all the time. But that certainty she had… it was like a drug.’
‘I’m certain about one thing,’ Dylan said. ‘She was wrong about you.’
It was suddenly a little hard to breathe.
Friend. Friend. She was my friend. That was enough. That was plenty.
Stay on the solid ground. STAY OUT OF THE QUICKSAND.
‘Not about the crying thing,’ I said. ‘She was right about that. I do cry too much.’
‘Even a broken clock can be right twice a day,’ Dylan said. ‘Maybe some of the shit she said had a grain of truth to it. Although I’m not willing to concede the crying thing. You’re allowed to cry.’
‘Okay.’
‘I know she’s the little voice in your head that whispers nasty things to you,’ she said. ‘But no one who saw you build a perfectly functioning catapult today out of random pieces of machinery could ever think you weren’t the absolute best.’
Dylan’s fingers, still clasped loosely around the bedframe, brushed mine. Then her pinkie finger curled around mine, like we were making a pinkie promise.
In that moment, I was conscious of three things:
1) Dylan’s face was very close to mine.
2) Some inconsiderate person had sucked all the air out of the room.
3) I was going to kiss her.
There was not a single other thought in my mind. No thoughts. Head empty.
She was so close. I was going to take a deep breath, fill my lungs with the little oxygen left in the room, and then I was going to kiss her.
But the door to the bathroom swung open and Naya came out, dressed for bed, a silk scarf around her hair. ‘Fuck, today was unpleasant,’ she said, flopping down on her bunk.
Dylan found her voice first. ‘I think it might have been worse than Love Jockey Hockey.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Naya said. ‘Nothing in the world will ever be as bad as Love Jockey Hockey. Where’s Lily?’
‘No idea,’ Dylan replied.
‘We need to put a bell on her or something,’ Naya said. ‘I heard you got in her face today, Amanda.’
‘We, uh, had some words,’ I managed to say.
