Page 24 of What’s Left of Us

Hayden arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. She steps to the bathroom counter and takes out her bag of makeup. Kneeling beside me, she starts applying her makeup over mine.

“I dyed my hair at his sister’s wedding.” I snort. “That’s why he’s here.”

Both of Hayden’s eyebrows are raised now. She’s looking at me like I’m crazy, and to be fair, that sounds crazy. It is crazy.

“It’s a long story, but he’s acting like he’s here to save me. Which is just ridiculous because he’s the reason I’m so fucked up.”

“Do you think he wants to get back together?” She applies liquid contour, then blush around my cheekbones.

“No.” It’s the truth, and it’s for the best. My chest clenches at that reality anyway. My brain understands why Atlas and I can never be together again, but my heart has never quite understood. “He knows it won’t happen. Not that he’d want to anyway. He probably has a girlfriend.”

A girlfriend who’s probably in Missoula, wondering why the hell her boyfriend transferred to his ex’s college.

You dyed your hair blue.

“Walk me through your conversation,” Hayden says. “And start with how you got his address.”

“Derek. I mean, it’s his fault all this happened. He was supposed to disinvite Atlas, remember?”

“Fair enough.” She touches my chin, tilting my face toward the bathroom’s only light source. “Walk me through it.”

“All right.” I swallow, but I don’t have to tell Hayden everything. Just enough that she understands. “Let me start with the blue hair…”

Chapter 10

age twelve

Iperfected the art of avoiding Atlas Blake. It had been eight days since he was a complete jerk in his backyard. The last time we’d spent that many days apart was when his family went on a cruise. I’d spent their entire vacation tracking the days in my little planner—one I’d bought for school but rarely actually used. It had been torture, waiting for him to return.

This was much, much worse.

The first three days, I was convinced he’d show up at any moment to apologize. It wasn’t like I had a lot of friends. A simple apology was all I needed. An I’m sorry I was a total jerk and was more loyal to a random stranger than to you, my absolute best friend. Won’t ever happen again, and if it does, I give you permission to smite me.

By the fourth day, I realized he wasn’t going to apologize at all. After rejecting me in front of his new friends, Atlas Blake didn’t seem the least bit concerned in patching things up with me. Maybe he wasn’t sorry. Maybe, I’d reacted exactly the way he hoped, and he was relieved I hadn’t shown up the next day to hang out like I typically did.

And now, on the eighth day, I decided I shouldn’t be concerned either. So what if Atlas didn’t want to be my friend anymore? Who cared? Not me, that was for sure.

I’d even texted a couple of girls from last year’s home room. Mom was going to take us to the water park next weekend, and by that time, I was confident I’d be so over Atlas I’d forget he existed. I’d see him in the fall for eighth grade, and I’d struggle to remember his name.

“Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

I looked up from my ukulele. I’d watched a couple videos on YouTube on how to use a capo, but I was somehow messing it up. It looked so easy when other people did it. The problem was that I was stupid, of course. That was why the strumming sounded funky, no matter where I placed it.

“About what?” I was playing dumb and from the way Nat arched an eyebrow, she knew it.

“You’ve been avoiding Atlas.” She closed her book and abandoned it on the foot of my bed. She scooted up until we were shoulder to shoulder, and when I started to strum again, she grabbed my hand. “What happened, Vi?”

“I already told you.” I clung to my ukulele, staring at the capo rather than my sister. She was too observant sometimes. “I just don’t feel like hanging out with him.”

“He hasn’t come over here either.”

“Yeah, well, obviously he doesn’t feel like hanging out with me either then.” I shoved the ukulele off my lap, flinching when it fell onto the floor. “What’s it matter?”

This time, Nat didn’t respond. She just stared at me, brown eyes narrowed curiously. I regretted throwing my ukulele on the floor. Now I didn’t have anything to distract myself. I was forced to stare straight ahead and pretend I didn’t feel the weight of my sister’s attention.

When I couldn’t take the silence anymore, I sagged back into my pillows.

“He got mad at me.” I admitted. “For playing with him and his friends, but it wasn’t even my fault. His friend pulled me into it.”