Read Online Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content by Melody Carlson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melody Carlson
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expression I was going for, only they’re actually achieving it. I’m guessing they’re on their way to cheerleading practice since they’ve got gym bags with pom-poms hanging out of them. Subtle.
“What’s going on with you?” Jordan asks me. She breaks a couple steps away from her new buddies and peers at me with that same curious expression that she’d tried on me this morning. And for whatever reason it makes me feel as if I’m going to cry. Not a good feeling.
“Nothing.” I shift my backpack to my other shoulder, which is a mistake because it will only slide off and make me look even more stupid.
“Are you okay?” she persists.
“Yeah.” I use a louder than necessary voice. “I’m perfectly fine, Jordan. Why shouldn’t I be?” Now I stare at her, hoping I can make
her
feel uncomfortable for a change.
“I don’t know. But you just seem different. I wondered if you’re doing okay is all.”
“Well, I just need to get home.” I glance over to where Shawna and Betsy are waiting. Their expressions have switched from boredinterest to tight-lipped impatience. “And it looks like you need to get to practice anyway. So don’t let me keep you.”
Jordan smiles now. She actually smiles! Sheesh! Just like everything is perfectly normal—just peachy keen. Makes me wanna scream.
“Okay,” she says in her chirpy, cheerful, cheerleader voice. “Guess I’ll see ya then.”
“Yeah, later.” I can hear that flat tone in my voice, but I just really don’t care anymore. Why should I?
I walk home alone, the twisted little-blue-engine words running through my brain with each step. It’s like I can’t even stop them now.
What do I care? What do I care? What do I care?
It isn’t until I walk up the steps to the apartment that I realize I have tears running down my cheeks. I want to yell and scream at myself, to tell myself to just shape up and get over it, but instead I fall on top of my bed and just sob. I wish this could all just end.
ten
T HE NEXT FEW DAYS PROCEED IN A PITIFULLY SIMILAR FASHION . I AM embarrassed to say that losing my best friend has rendered me nearly dysfunctional. I think I am totally hopeless, and it’s only a matter of time before my grades begin slipping and the counselor calls and my mom suggests I go see a shrink or something. And then, well, who knows?
Jordan has pretty much quit talking to me completely now. In all fairness, this has almost as much to do with me as it does her. I pretty much blow off every attempt she makes to be
nice
. Because that’s exactly how it feels to me. As if she’s saying to herself, “Oh, there’s that poor Kara Hendricks girl. I used to be friends with her. But now that I’m popular, I should try to be nice to her. At least for appearances’ sake. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not nice.” But I do my best to make it very difficult for her, and I think she’s finally given up. It’s somewhat of a relief to me though. I’m thinking a clean break might be the best in the long run. Less painful.
I walk through Jackson High imagining that I am invisible. I keep my eyes downcast and speak as little as possible. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, but it seems to be working at the moment. However, I am lonely. Unspeakably lonely. And there is this dull empty ache inside of me. Sometimes I think it mightactually kill me. But perhaps that would be a relief.
“I thought you said you were going to join us for lunch sometime, Kara,” says Edgar Peebles as art class ends on Friday. “It’s been a whole week and you haven’t—”
“Don’t waste your time on her,” says Amy. “Kara thinks she’s too good for us. She’d rather hang out with her cheerleading friends.” Then she makes a pretty bad rendition of a Jackson High yell, only she substitutes some words for others with more spice.
Despite myself I have to smile. It’s not something I’d want to repeat, but it is sort of funny in an off-color
“What’s going on with you?” Jordan asks me. She breaks a couple steps away from her new buddies and peers at me with that same curious expression that she’d tried on me this morning. And for whatever reason it makes me feel as if I’m going to cry. Not a good feeling.
“Nothing.” I shift my backpack to my other shoulder, which is a mistake because it will only slide off and make me look even more stupid.
“Are you okay?” she persists.
“Yeah.” I use a louder than necessary voice. “I’m perfectly fine, Jordan. Why shouldn’t I be?” Now I stare at her, hoping I can make
her
feel uncomfortable for a change.
“I don’t know. But you just seem different. I wondered if you’re doing okay is all.”
“Well, I just need to get home.” I glance over to where Shawna and Betsy are waiting. Their expressions have switched from boredinterest to tight-lipped impatience. “And it looks like you need to get to practice anyway. So don’t let me keep you.”
Jordan smiles now. She actually smiles! Sheesh! Just like everything is perfectly normal—just peachy keen. Makes me wanna scream.
“Okay,” she says in her chirpy, cheerful, cheerleader voice. “Guess I’ll see ya then.”
“Yeah, later.” I can hear that flat tone in my voice, but I just really don’t care anymore. Why should I?
I walk home alone, the twisted little-blue-engine words running through my brain with each step. It’s like I can’t even stop them now.
What do I care? What do I care? What do I care?
It isn’t until I walk up the steps to the apartment that I realize I have tears running down my cheeks. I want to yell and scream at myself, to tell myself to just shape up and get over it, but instead I fall on top of my bed and just sob. I wish this could all just end.
ten
T HE NEXT FEW DAYS PROCEED IN A PITIFULLY SIMILAR FASHION . I AM embarrassed to say that losing my best friend has rendered me nearly dysfunctional. I think I am totally hopeless, and it’s only a matter of time before my grades begin slipping and the counselor calls and my mom suggests I go see a shrink or something. And then, well, who knows?
Jordan has pretty much quit talking to me completely now. In all fairness, this has almost as much to do with me as it does her. I pretty much blow off every attempt she makes to be
nice
. Because that’s exactly how it feels to me. As if she’s saying to herself, “Oh, there’s that poor Kara Hendricks girl. I used to be friends with her. But now that I’m popular, I should try to be nice to her. At least for appearances’ sake. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not nice.” But I do my best to make it very difficult for her, and I think she’s finally given up. It’s somewhat of a relief to me though. I’m thinking a clean break might be the best in the long run. Less painful.
I walk through Jackson High imagining that I am invisible. I keep my eyes downcast and speak as little as possible. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, but it seems to be working at the moment. However, I am lonely. Unspeakably lonely. And there is this dull empty ache inside of me. Sometimes I think it mightactually kill me. But perhaps that would be a relief.
“I thought you said you were going to join us for lunch sometime, Kara,” says Edgar Peebles as art class ends on Friday. “It’s been a whole week and you haven’t—”
“Don’t waste your time on her,” says Amy. “Kara thinks she’s too good for us. She’d rather hang out with her cheerleading friends.” Then she makes a pretty bad rendition of a Jackson High yell, only she substitutes some words for others with more spice.
Despite myself I have to smile. It’s not something I’d want to repeat, but it is sort of funny in an off-color
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