“Please tell me this isn’t about Talon,” Mo says, voicing my exact thoughts.
Amber blushes, but she says, “Talon’s not going to UMaine. I just don’t want to leave my people.”
“Ambs, that’s great,” I say, reaching over to hug her, even as tears prick the back of my eyes. Days ago, Mo was the odd one out, the one getting left behind, and now I’m the only one who’s leaving. If I was looking forward to going, actually excited about Princeton or wherever, then it would be fine. But I’m not.
“Sorry,” Ambs says, looking guilty.
“Don’t be silly. Wherever you go, you’re going to kill it. And they’ll be lucky to have you,” I say.
Mo and Ambs hug, and I head to the bathroom. Alone, I stare at my own face in the mirror and try not to cry. The first term of senior year was not supposed to be this awful. I’ve even kind of slacked off on documenting it for the yearbook.
Jason is in a coma.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to continue my Princeton application.
And now, worst of all, Jason was most likely cheating on me.
My phone vibrates with a text as I’m getting dressed.
My heart does a weird stutter when I see that it’s from Marcus. Marcus, who saw my humiliation in our dream. Who has seenallmy humiliation, including the fawning over Jason, the clueless faith, the undue optimism.
Marcus has drawn a sketch of two Smurfs. A Smurf and Smurfette, really. At Winfield Carnival.
At first, I think it’s me and Jason, but on closer look—I see my braids instead of Past Zadie’s bun. I see Marcus’s long hair.
It’s us, him and me.
And the “him” Smurf has a thought bubble that saysWow, we’re kind of hot for Smurfs.
I smile and text back.
Me:Stop objectifying Smurfs.
He texts back,How are you?
Me:I feel like death.
Marcus:…
Marcus:…
Finally, he says,Next time I see you, can I give you a hug?
I can’t help another little smile.
Me:In dreamland?
Marcus:Or in real life…
I bite my lower lip.
Me:Okay.
And suddenly I’m looking forward to the next time I see Marcus. But only because when he hugged me last dream, it felt so good. He’s a good hugger. That’s all there is to it.
I tuck my phone into the pocket of my leggings and brush my teeth.
It’s not long before her name comes back into my mind again, hovering like the melody of a catchy pop song.
