from A Wrinkle in Time until it started giving me a headache. Then she went downstairs and came up a half hour later with a tray that held a bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. The soup, a strange concoction of brown broth and floating food objects that sheâd made from scratch herself, tasted so salty I gagged at the first mouthful.
But when Rachel looked hurt, I made up some lie about its going down the wrong pipe and forced myself to eat the whole bowl, claiming it was delicious. I got a horrible stomachache after, but it was worth it to have a night of Rachel and me getting along.
Nowadays, if Rachel brought me soup, Iâd have to worry that sheâd spit in it, or worse.
Without a word, she finally disappears from my doorway, leaving me to wonder what, if anything, she had to say.
Â
Â
The Monday after spring break, I go back to school but wonder why Iâve bothered to show up at all. My attendance has been spotty for the past month since Sarah diedâa few days in school here and there, zombielike, and the rest not. My sister is still dead. This must be worth at least a couple more weeks of skipping classes. Maybe the rest of the semester.
But Lena has launched a campaign to get me into therapy, so now Iâm doing whatever I can to stay away from home. I donât want to face Lena now, or Rachel, or a therapist, or any more reminders that Sarah isnât here or there or anywhere.
I realize, when I sit down in first period, I am hoping Sin will be here and acting normal again. Iâm hoping heâll just pretend that horrible day of the funeral never happened, and if he does, then maybe Iâll feel okay enough to go home and take a shower and sleep in my own bed.
Last night, after a fight with Lena over the Therapy Issue, I slept in the park in my sleeping bag again. I woke up with a bunch of dried-up redwood leaves tangled in my hair and a couple of itchy, red bug bites on my arm. I look like hellâI know because I checked in the girlsâ restroom a few minutes agoâand there wasnât much I could do to repair myself in the few minutes I had splashing water on my face and trying to untangle leaves from my hair.
I donât care what anyone thinks though.
Mostly.
The girl sitting next to me, Andy something or other, is looking me up and down. I can tell she wants to ask me somethingâwhat happened to you? Or, why do you look like such a wreck?âbut she doesnât. She probably remembers about Sarah.
âCool tattoo,â she finally says.
Iâve forgotten about it. I should be washing it and putting lotion on it. It doesnât hurt anymore. I look down at the stars. My jeans are rolled up, though one pant leg is now longer than the other. For a moment, I hate the tattoo. It looks trendy, like something Iâll regret when Iâm old. I should have gotten something a little more timeless, I think. Maybe a dragon, or a bird.
But itâs for Sarah, and there isnât anything more right for her, even if it is ridiculously trendy.
âThanks,â I say so quietly Iâm not sure she can hear me.
Her attention slowly fades to the front of the room, where not much of anything is happening, just Mrs. Riggs shuffling through some papers. I sit through the first period in a stupor, and Sin never shows up. This isnât unusual for him, but I find myself staring at the door the entire time, willing him to appear.
Later, I wait at his locker, knowing his second-period class is geometry and he is beyond screwed if he fails it. He canât afford to miss another class, and sure enough, he comes ambling down the hallway toward me three minutes before he has to show.
I can tell by his expression though that nothing has changed. He doesnât look at me so much as he looks through me, intent on retrieving his geometry book from the locker Iâm leaning on.
âMove,â he says without even a hello.
âAre we ever going to
But when Rachel looked hurt, I made up some lie about its going down the wrong pipe and forced myself to eat the whole bowl, claiming it was delicious. I got a horrible stomachache after, but it was worth it to have a night of Rachel and me getting along.
Nowadays, if Rachel brought me soup, Iâd have to worry that sheâd spit in it, or worse.
Without a word, she finally disappears from my doorway, leaving me to wonder what, if anything, she had to say.
Â
Â
The Monday after spring break, I go back to school but wonder why Iâve bothered to show up at all. My attendance has been spotty for the past month since Sarah diedâa few days in school here and there, zombielike, and the rest not. My sister is still dead. This must be worth at least a couple more weeks of skipping classes. Maybe the rest of the semester.
But Lena has launched a campaign to get me into therapy, so now Iâm doing whatever I can to stay away from home. I donât want to face Lena now, or Rachel, or a therapist, or any more reminders that Sarah isnât here or there or anywhere.
I realize, when I sit down in first period, I am hoping Sin will be here and acting normal again. Iâm hoping heâll just pretend that horrible day of the funeral never happened, and if he does, then maybe Iâll feel okay enough to go home and take a shower and sleep in my own bed.
Last night, after a fight with Lena over the Therapy Issue, I slept in the park in my sleeping bag again. I woke up with a bunch of dried-up redwood leaves tangled in my hair and a couple of itchy, red bug bites on my arm. I look like hellâI know because I checked in the girlsâ restroom a few minutes agoâand there wasnât much I could do to repair myself in the few minutes I had splashing water on my face and trying to untangle leaves from my hair.
I donât care what anyone thinks though.
Mostly.
The girl sitting next to me, Andy something or other, is looking me up and down. I can tell she wants to ask me somethingâwhat happened to you? Or, why do you look like such a wreck?âbut she doesnât. She probably remembers about Sarah.
âCool tattoo,â she finally says.
Iâve forgotten about it. I should be washing it and putting lotion on it. It doesnât hurt anymore. I look down at the stars. My jeans are rolled up, though one pant leg is now longer than the other. For a moment, I hate the tattoo. It looks trendy, like something Iâll regret when Iâm old. I should have gotten something a little more timeless, I think. Maybe a dragon, or a bird.
But itâs for Sarah, and there isnât anything more right for her, even if it is ridiculously trendy.
âThanks,â I say so quietly Iâm not sure she can hear me.
Her attention slowly fades to the front of the room, where not much of anything is happening, just Mrs. Riggs shuffling through some papers. I sit through the first period in a stupor, and Sin never shows up. This isnât unusual for him, but I find myself staring at the door the entire time, willing him to appear.
Later, I wait at his locker, knowing his second-period class is geometry and he is beyond screwed if he fails it. He canât afford to miss another class, and sure enough, he comes ambling down the hallway toward me three minutes before he has to show.
I can tell by his expression though that nothing has changed. He doesnât look at me so much as he looks through me, intent on retrieving his geometry book from the locker Iâm leaning on.
âMove,â he says without even a hello.
âAre we ever going to
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