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TWO WEEKS LATER
MARGO hadn't heard a word from Jacob for weeks. She tried not to show her hurt or confusion, but it was hard to suppress. She didn't want to come off as an overly-clingy girlfriend – because that was definitely not the type of person she was – but how was she supposed to act when her boyfriend hasn't spoken to her for over two weeks? Yes, they were both incredibly busy – her, especially – but he always found time to call her most nights. She hadn't received a call, nor a text, for two weeks.
As much as she didn't want to admit it, Margo was awake most nights because of her confusion, or was it just because she was lonely? She wanted to call him; ask if he was okay, but she supposed he just needed space. Margo didn't understand why he would need space, especially when he seemed so ready to tell her he loved her weeks ago, but she waited for him. Margo Richards, the most impatient girl in Forks, waited.
She bit her nails down to the brink. She barely had an appetite. Her anxiety was at all-time high. Why was she so hung up on Jacob? Why couldn't she simply give him the space he needed, and live her life as if it were normal? Margo couldn't answer her own questions.
She eventually called his cellphone. Margo began to get worried that something was genuinely wrong, though she thought that if that were the case, Billy would've told her. When she called, she received no answer. Margo waited a day and called again. Still no answer. The routine continued for a whole week.
When Jenny finally noticed her niece was only eating half of her dinner each night, she decided to say something. "I know you're upset about Jacob," she began, watching Margo bite down another nail. Jenny swatted her hand away. "I don't know what to tell you, but maybe you should just go to his house and confront him. He could just be sick. Mono has been going around."
"If he was sick, his dad would tell me." Margo replied, playing with the uneaten food on her plate. "At least, I would hope he would."
Jenny cut into her spiced chicken with a knife. "Did Melinda have any ideas?"
Margo pondered for a moment. He's probably going through the same teenage boy angst that Embry is going through, Melinda had told her yesterday at lunch. Margo then shook her head at her aunt's question. "The last time I saw him, he was burning up with some fever, and then he just disappeared at the movies," she recounted. "I've called his cellphone over fifty times. No answer. I don't get it." Margo slowly met her aunt's eyes. "Do you think I'm being too clingy?"
"At your age," Jenny said, patting her hand, "there's no such thing as being too clingy."
Margo had tried to look for advice from her aunt, but their conversation hadn't helped one bit. Later that night, Margo sat by her desk, her fingers hovering over the keys of her laptop. She had an important essay on Hamlet to start, but she couldn't even form a title for the paper. All that was typed on the screen was her name, date, and teacher's name. Margo sighed in defeat, picking up her flip phone and opening it. No new text messages. No new calls.
