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“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze through laughter.
“Too bad,” Brooke says. “Because I’m not done hugging you yet!”
She squeezes me even harder, and as soon as she lets go, we fall into a giggling pile on the floor.
“So,” I say, catching my breath. “I take it you’re happy for me?”
“Shut up.” She gives me a playful jab to the shoulder then climbs back onto the bed to lean against the headboard. I join her, sitting cross-legged at the other end of the mattress, the same way we’ve sat for countless long nights, spilling our guts or geeking out about whatever fantasy novel grabbed our attention.
“I still can’t believe it.” I beam so much that it’s like the whole room glows.
“That makes one of us.” Brooke smiles sarcastically. “Everyone at Brightwood High knew you’d get your 4.0. If you ask me, Danver was a sucker to set the bar so low for you. They should have made you work for it!”
“Ididwork for it,” I protest. “And besides, nobody at Brightwood has the first idea who I am, let alone cares about my grades.”
“Yeah, well.” She sighs. “That’s another subject.”
“Anyway, getting the scholarship is the good news.” I gnaw my bottom lip as I get ready to drop the bigger bomb. Brooke’s eyes snap to me, and she gets edgy.
“Abby,” she says cautiously. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She’s always been able to read me like one of the books we pass back and forth, and I’ve got a crappy poker face to boot.
“Dad’s arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle in Houston, and with that as a housing plan, I might be able to add a double major or something.”
“Okay?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you saying this like it’s bad news?”
“Because he’s actually arranged for me to go down right after graduation so I can get used to things there while I prepare for college to start,” I confess in one long rush, hoping that ripping off the Band-Aid will make things easier.
“What?” Brooke slumps back against her headboard, and her eyes go glassy. “So, you’re just going to leave then? Just like that?”
Seeing her like this sends a shiver of panic through me, and all I want to do is make things better.
“Maybe you could come too,” I blurt. “Danver has a criminal justice program—maybe, we could look into it together.”
“Abby.” She waves me off. “You and I both know I’m not going all the way down to Texas just on the chance of a criminal justice program. Besides, any department that hasn’t already accepted everyone they’re taking for their incoming class isn’t worth much, now is it?”
“But…”
“Besides,” she talks over me. “If I went with you, you’d use it as an excuse to hide in your room and only talk to me, and maybe your cousin. Time for you to spread your wings, girl. Time for both of us to do that.”
A surprisingly unfamiliar downhearted look comes over her, like there’s something she’s been musing over for a long time. It takes me off guard because I’ve always thought we shared everything, but I’ve never seen her melancholy like this.
“What’s wrong,” I ask as gently as possible, and she turns those large, blue eyes on me.
“We never did anything, Abby.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we never didanything.” She shakes her head, looking around the room at the stacks of books on pretty much every surface. “Everybody tells you high school is supposed to be the time where you make all kinds of friends and get up to all kinds of crazy stuff, and we didn’t do any of that.”
“Like, what,” I ask, incredulous. “Go to parties? Get drunk in our parent’s liquor cabinet?”
“I mean, maybe.” She shrugs hard. “Why not? Going to a party might not have been so bad. We might actually have people to miss us when we go off to college.”
“I’ll miss you,” I say, scooting over to sit next to her with my back against the headboard.
“Yeah.” She lets out a low, breathy chuckle. “And I’ll miss you too. And, like, our parents, and all my brothers and sisters, but Abby?” She looks me in the eye. “That’s it.”
