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“You'd know about that, wouldn't you?” A smile crept on her lips, and it was contagious. There was no denying she had her fun in college, and as much as she wanted me to be, I just wasn't her. I was more like dad. Introverted. A little OCD. A goody two-shoes that just wanted to prove to people that I was worthy. “Besides, I do have fun.”
That smirk dropped almost as fast as it grew. “Really? Because I find it funny that I know the name of every single one of your professors, but not one friend.” I closed my lips tightly together, trying to think of a name other than Hazel that would be a legitimate person I spend time with. I came up blank. Sure, I'd tried to hang out with Rachel and the other sorority girls at my mother's behest, but I wasn't exactly looking to repeat that memorable evening. Connor cheating on me in front of everyone was enough of a deterrent to ever consider doing that again.
“You're trying to think of a name, aren't you?” My mom asked smugly. She knew me too well, and although I hated her pestering, I knew she had a point. A weak one, but there was still something there. “What about roommates? Have the school finally issued you a new one?”
I blew out a breath and looked away from the phone. My roommate situation had always been a touchy subject. I'd had about four different ones since joining Covey U. The last one, Marissa, was okay, but she had an unhealthy obsession with Flamin' Hot Cheetos, and I hated how sticky it made everything in the room. She told me she was transferring to St. Michael's to be closer to home, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was trying to get away from me like the last three. It wasn’t that I was unbearable; I was just particular, and people didn’t like it when I told them how I felt about them leaving their clothes all over the bedroom or inviting a guy back.
“No new roommate yet.” I waved off her concern because I really didn't care about it. “But none of those girls were really my friends, anyway.” A little roil of vomit made its way to the back of my throat as I thought about all the things that one girl did on that top bunk. I blocked most of the incident out of my head, but I remember walking in with three naked guys and a girl up there with her.
“Aster?” She rolled out my name and her eyes were closed as she waited for me to respond. When I mumbled, she took that as a sign to continue. “I need to ask you something, and I don't want you getting upset about it.”
“What?”
She fiddled with her hands and bit her lip before blurting out, “Do you have any friends?”
I nearly choked on my own spit, because yes, she'd implied many times over the years that she was worried about my lack of friendships, but she'd never outright asked me like that.
I sat up, annoyed. I didn’t care that the tree bark was scratching up my back because I was ticked off that she would even suggest that. “Geez, mom. What a question,” I laughed out bitterly. “I only called to see how you were doing because I was worried about you, and you're interrogating me like it's the Spanish inquisition. I didn’t expect to be attacked like that.” I shook my head, tutting at the sheer audacity of the question.
Did I have friends?
What kind of question is that for your daughter?
“That wasn’t an answer.” Her tone was cold and emotionless. I knew it well because she always used it when she wanted me to cut the bullshit, but there was no bullshit to be cut this time.
“Yes. I have friends,” I answered simply, pulling my legs up to my chest and then balanced the phone on my knees.
“Name one.”
What the fu-
“Hazel,” I answered instantly because I wanted to prove her wrong.
“Hazel? You mean the girl you tutor?” I clenched my jaw as I tried to come up with another name, but I was drawing a blank.
“Ralph.” I stopped myself from groaning because Ralph and I were anything but besties.
“The guy who co-ordinates your tutoring sessions? What about friends that don’t pay to be around you?”
“They don’t pay for my tutoring,” I quipped back because I was ticked off at how rude the question was. I wasn’t willing to attack her over it. She was sick, after all, and was looking older than I’d ever seen her, which I knew she'd hate because everyone always commented about how young she looked. She just wanted to make sure I was happy, but what she didn't realize was that we had different things in life that made us content.
“Okay. What about friends that don’t hang out with you because you’ll do their homework.”
“I don’t do any of their homework?”
She raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
“I. I.” I didn’t know what on earth to say. I wanted to hang up, but I couldn’t because I always had the fear that it would be the last time I talked to her, but man, did she know how to wound me. I knew exactly what she was referring to, and the fact that she would bring it up even though it was something that I told her in confidence irked me.
“Aster,” She rolled out, her tone more soothing than earlier. “I’m not trying to attack you or anything. But I worry about you.”
“You don't need to.” I dusted off some imaginary lint off my skirt, refusing to make eye contact. I felt another lecture coming on, and I wasn't sure I was ready for it.
“Who have you got to talk to down there when things don’t go your way?”
I scratched my collarbone, desperately trying to think of one friend I was willing to confide in here about Connor. There was no one. It was why I had to tell her.
“What are you going to do if the worst happens to me?”
