Haunting Margalo

I'll Miss You. I Hate You.

Margalo woke up to the sound of an alarm. She sat up groggily and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking down to see that she was still in her jeans and sweatshirt. She had been so exhausted from everything the day before; she must have just dozed off. “Lauren, wake up.”

“Five more minutes.”

Sorting through all the clothes in Lauren’s closet, Margalo finally pulled out a random long-sleeved T-shirt and threw it on with the jeans she was already wearing. She couldn’t find it in herself to be concerned about her appearance—after all, she wouldn’t be seeing these people again for a long time. She could worry about having her Cinderella moment when she came back home. “Lauren,” she repeated after a few minutes. “Come on, wake up.”

Lauren put one foot on the ground, and the rest of her body subsequently fell on the floor with a thump. She groaned as she lazily lifted herself up onto her feet. “Can we just ditch today?”

“No, I want to go.” Margalo realized what she had just said a moment later. “God, that’s weird.”

They headed downstairs for breakfast. As it had many times the night before, an eerie quiet passed between them. Neither one knew quite what to say or do in the situation—they had been best friends since the first day of high school, and now they were faced with saying goodbye for an indefinite amount of time. Margalo wished she could explain everything to Lauren, and Lauren wished she could understand. They ate their cereal without a word, longing for things to be different.

“Luke’s going to lose it when he finds out,” Lauren said as she scraped the remaining Cheerios from the bottom of her bowl.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Margalo. “I think Luke was getting a little too attached to me.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I don’t know,” said Margalo uncomfortably, and for the first time, she saw a bright side to the situation, even if it was just a glimmer of relief. “I think I just want to be friends, you know? And he wants something different. So space might be good for us.”

Lauren smiled. “Margalo…I mean, I know it’s rude of me to ask this when you’re leaving, but since you don’t like him like that…is it okay if I ask Luke out?”

“Go for it,” Margalo said. She didn’t have a problem with it—after all, she’d always thought Lauren and Luke would make a kind of cute couple—but the idea gave her another one of those awful realizations. She thought about how amongst her friends, things would change when she was gone. It was an unspoken truth that every person, no matter how small their social circle, indirectly caused events and stopped events from happening. Lauren asking Luke out was the first example—Margalo guessed that Lauren had probably wanted to do that for a while, and that she had been the only thing that got in the way. It was scary to wonder whether her absence would make things better or worse.

“Thanks, Mar. You rock.”

Margalo tipped her cereal bowl towards her and finished the milk that was left. “Oh, shit. My school stuff got burned.”

“Lucky girl,” Lauren joked. “I’ve been wanting to burn my school books for years.”

“Good point.” Margalo stood up and looked at the clock. “We’d better go, school starts in ten minutes.”

They walked down the street together, both acutely aware that they wouldn’t do so again for a long time. It was a terrible feeling. Their friendship had always strengthened them—even though they had known each other for less than two years, they were as close as could be. They were both already so used to having a best friend who would understand them without even having to say a word, and the idea of going through everything—bad days, breakups, failed tests, confusion—without a person like that was terrifying.

Margalo opened the front doors of the school and took everything in.

“You two look like somebody just shot your puppy.” Emily stood in the front foyer, waving at them. “What’s wrong?”

“Margalo is going to live with her aunt in Bellton,” said Lauren, each word heavy, as if they pained her to say. “Part of her house was burned, and she has to live somewhere else for now.”

“Oh my god, no. Margalo! Who’s going to be my lab partner?”

“Shut up, you’re just saying that because no one else will let you slack off.”

“Maybe.” Emily gave Margalo a hug. “But I’m really, really, going to miss you, like, a lot. You have to text me whenever something happens.”

“Whenever something happens?” Margalo laughed. “Hey, Emily. Just woke up. I brushed my teeth. I walked to school. I sat in my desk.”

“Okay, okay, not everything, but the important stuff.”

“I will.”

Margalo went through her day with a sense of reflection, silently determining with each student and teacher whether she would miss them or not. I’ll miss you. I hate you. I’ll miss you so damn much. I’ll miss you, but you won’t miss me. I won’t miss your arrogance, but I’ll miss your jokes. She told some people that she’d be leaving, and let others figure it out for themselves.

At lunch she met Lauren, Emily, and Luke outside the cafeteria. “Mar,” Luke said immediately, hugging her so tightly it was almost suffocating. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too, Luke,” said Margalo. It wasn’t a lie—she really would miss him. However, it was somewhat difficult to say it wholeheartedly when she could barely breathe. She patted Luke on the back, signaling for him to let go. When he pulled away, he was blushing.

“It’s so busy in here,” Emily said. “Can we eat outside?”

Margalo nodded and they headed to the front of the school, sitting on the cold pavement and holding their food on their laps.

“I’m so sorry,” said Lauren abruptly. “I completely forgot to ask. Did you get hurt in the fire?”

“Um, a little bit,” said Margalo with uneasiness. She pulled up the sleeves of her T-shirt and revealed the burns all up her arms. “But I’m okay. It looks worse than it is.”

“I’m so sorry, Margalo. That’s horrible,” said Luke.

“It’s fine,” Margalo replied, feeling embarrassed. She hated the idea that people felt bad for her, when really, it had been all her fault. “Don’t worry.”

“Are there any cute guys in Bellton?” Lauren asked, sensing Margalo’s discomfort.

Margalo knew that Lauren was trying to make her feel better, but the question made her head hurt. “Yes,” she said. “There was this guy I liked—in, um, the seventh grade.” Parker Spalding--the guy that she and Violet had fought over for so long, the guy over whom she had called Violet a whore minutes before her death.

“Well, that’s good,” said Emily.

“Yeah.” Margalo stared at her hands again. “It’s great.” She pretended to be intently interested in chewing her sandwich, hoping it would deter her friends from asking any more questions. When the bell rang, she headed to her afternoon classes, feeling worse than ever.