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“Yeah, like a bucket list. She wouldn’t tell me what was on the list, but she said she didn’t want to graduate with any regrets.”
“That is so cool,” Peyton said. “Hey, you should totally do that. Your therapist would love that.”
“I am not making a list.”
“You don’t have to actually write a list, but you could have a couple of mental goals. Like attend a party.” Ashleigh waggled her brows. “Your first high school party. It could be kinda cool.”
“You’re not going to stop until I agree, are you?”
“Nope, sorry, Lil. We promised to always be the kind of best friends who gave it to you straight, and it’s time to step out of your bubble and live.”
“She’s right, Lilster.” Poppy leaned over and gently squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
“So…” Ashleigh pulled into the school parking lot and found an empty spot. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You have four days.” She nodded.
Peyton and Poppy climbed out, but Ashleigh held back. “Sorry if we overstepped just now. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“It isn’t, but you’re right,” I said. “Perhaps I should push myself more.”
Pushing myself was scary though because it usually resulted in a relapse. And I didn’t want that, not again.
“We’ll be by your side every step of the way, I promise. And if Lindsey says so much as a word—”
“I’m not worried about Lindsey, Leigh.” I hadn’t been on her radar ever since tenth grade when she got rid of her retainer, grew boobs, and became a cheerleader. She had the full attention of the football team now, without needing me or my dad’s connections.
“Okay, come here.” She twisted in her seat until she was facing me and reached for my hands. “Repeat after me. I, Lily May Ford—”
“Leigh, I am not—”
“Just humor me.” She grinned in that infectious way of hers. “I, Lily May Ford…”
“I, Lily May Ford.
“Am badass.”
I rolled my eyes, and she pinched my hand. “Am badass,” I grumbled. “And I have a group of badass friends, especially Ashleigh.” I reluctantly repeated her words.
“And I am going to make the most of senior year.”
“And I am going to make the most of senior year.”
“Okay, good. Now pinky swear.” She wrapped her pinky finger around mine.
“Leigh… come on.”
“Just give me this, Lil. Please.” She pouted, flashing me big, blue, puppy dog eyes.
“You don’t play fair.”
“Maybe not. But you love me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Now come on. Let’s go kick senior year’s ass.” She climbed out of the car and I checked my reflection. I’d spent the last three years of high school hiding, sticking to the shadows and wishing myself invisible. And for the most part, it worked. I had a small circle of friends who understood me and a family who loved me. I was happy.
