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I look so… so different.
I’ve always shied away from my appearance, ever since the accident that left me permanently scarred. But now I barely recognise myself. My skin is paler than usual and my eyes seem vacant. The scar marring my cheek stands out. Taunting me.
Blinking away fresh tears, I quickly plait my hair into a loose braid over my shoulder to hide the silvery line and return to the girls.
“There she is,” Olivia says with an encouraging smile.
“Sorry I took so long.”
“You’re ready, that’s all that matters.”
“Come on,” Raine adds. “The girls promised me a morning of sugary goodness.” She takes my hand and tugs me toward the door.
Fear takes hold as I step over the threshold and out into the hall.
“Abi?” she asks, concern heavy in her voice.
“I’m fine.”
Fine.
God, I hate that word.
I’m not fine—I’m barely holding on.
But I can’t let them see the true depths of my despair. The utter helplessness and loneliness I feel.
The fear.
They bundle me into Liv’s car and head for town, talking about the upcoming Easter Break. But I barely hear them, watching the countryside roll by.
“What do you think, Abs? It might do you good.”
“Sorry, what?” I meet Tally’s gaze.
“I asked if you might want to come away with us? It’s not definite yet but the boys are talking about it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not exactly good company right now.”
“No, but you’re our friend. You’re one of us. It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t come.”
There’s no way I can go with them. Not if Elliot goes, which he will.
I don’t want to see him again, to look him in the eye and see the rejection there. It was enough the first time around. And maybe if my father hadn’t left me, if the cruel, unforgiving disease wrecking his body hadn’t taken him, I would have been able to move on from the kiss.
I would have been able to turn off my unrequited feelings and accepted a friendship with Elliot.
But everything is different now.
That night will always be entwined with the second to worst day of my life.
By the time we arrive at Dessert Island, I feel sick to my stomach. But I put on a brave face, opting for a peppermint tea and an oatmeal and raisin cookie, which I pick at as the girls tiptoe around me.
“It’s okay,” I say. “You can talk about normal stuff.”
“We just don’t want to overwhelm you.” Liv squeezes my hand. “We know how hard this is for you.”
They don’t, how could they?
