Page 110 of People Like Us

I mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” But the sound wouldn’t come out.

“My goddamn sister is in surgery.” The words echoed through the room, through my veins, fingernails, and hair. “Having damage to the lining of her organs repaired.”

I felt physically ill. The room tilted slightly. My knees threatened to give out beneath me.

“And it’s because you taught her how to hide the thing that was killing her,” he said, so soft it sounded like a plea. Like he was begging me for it to not be true.

I opened my mouth again. Again nothing came out.

I’d known. Handed her concealer, and painted her nails. Stood outside the bathroom countless times over the last few weeks. And I’d never told August how bad it’d gotten.

Andy turned away. The movement was slow, like every muscle in his body hurt.

“Andy,” My voice broke. He didn’t stop. “Andy, wait.”

The automatic doors opened. Closed, and he was gone.

I stared after him helplessly. Part of me wanted to run after him. Part of me wanted to collapse. Part of me wanted to rewind the entire day and start over. Hell, the last two months.

I wanted to go back to the day I’d sat with August in the courtyard. To break up with Andy when he came to the library. To tell him I wasn’t in love with him anymore.

To tell August that when I said I wanted all of him that first time in the hallway, that I meant it. That he was enough for me.

Instead I looked back at August. Breathing hard, and eyes swollen. Looking as broken as I’d ever seen another human being.

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded pathetic the second they left my mouth. Worthless and tiny.

August shook his head. “Go on.” His voice had gone flat. “Chase after him.”

I took a step closer.

“No. We both know he’s who you want to apologize to right now.” he said quietly. Like he knew it was true, and didn’t need a voice in his head to convince him of it.

“No,” I whispered. The answer came immediately. I reached for him. For his hand, or shirt, or any part of him he’d let me have.

“I want you. Honest.” The tears blurred him.

His fingers twitched in mine. For a second I thought he might let me in. Instead he pulled away. The rejection hurt worse than anything he had said.

“I want you,” I whispered again. “Always.”

August closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they looked exhausted. Not like an eighteen year old boy, but someone who’d finally run out of hope.

“One honest person isn’t enough for you, Lola. You only exist when you’ve got a room full of liars looking right at you.”

Chapter Forty-Three

The gym was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people I hadn’t seen in years. Every few seconds someone called my name, waved, pointed me toward another memory wall display. The old basketball banners still hung from the rafters, faded now, and somebody had strung twinkle lights around the edges of the room in an attempt to make Woodland High look charming instead of desperately underfunded. The smell was exactly the same as it had been when I graduated: floor wax, teenage sweat, and stale popcorn from the concession stand.

Lindsey was still talking animatedly to my husband. I only got snippets of it as I flicked my eyes across every face in the room, searching for his. “…Academic decathlon…full scholarship…student of the year…”

Every accomplishment I’d ever earned had been pinned to a wall somewhere behind them in glossy photographs. I hated it. Not because I wasn’t proud of those things, but because every award seemed to leave out the parts of me that had actually mattered.

Nobody put photographs of our sins on memory walls. Nobody framed the mistakes. Nobody made collages of the people we’d hurt. So I’d escaped under the excuse of needing more punch.

I was reaching for a plastic cup when I heard footsteps approaching.

“Lola.” I closed my eyes briefly.