"Did he believe it?" I ask, as soon as Emma's head peaks into her room.
She gasps loudly. "Gosh, you scared me," she says, putting a hand over her heart.
"Sorry," I breathe, looking down to focus on the color of her covers; a mature, feminine color that suits her ill.
I woke up the morning after that night with mom, alone and halfway frozen to death at Maya's park. I still don't remember getting there, or falling in the snow, and I honestly don't remember how I made my way back in the morning, all the way to Emma's house. I caught her right before she left for school. Her face when she saw me looked as if I had turned blue. Which I very well could have, given the winter I spent the night exposed to. She insisted on taking me into her room and nursing me back to health; and I didn't have the strength to argue. Miraculously, after two days under the effects of her care and her chicken noodle soup (store-bought, since savory isn't her 'shtick'), I was back to normal.
That is, any and every trace of a cold was gone. That didn't mean I could get out of her bed.
"Did he believe it?" I ask again, sitting up, my head spinning from the sudden movement.
"Who, Jonathan?" she sets her backpack down on the floor to come sit at the edge of her bed. "Yeah, I mean... I told him you were sick during the week but that you'd be fine and ready at my house for him to pick up for the dance tomorrow," she says, her eyes glancing at the ceiling as she recalls the details the story she made up for me. "That's okay, right?"
I shake my head. "I'm not asking about Jonathan."
Emma's gaze softens.
I sigh to myself. "He didn't buy it, did he?"
She looks toward her window, and shakes her head. Of course, he didn't.
I didn't bother making up such a story for my parents. Once Emma had thrown me under her covers like a limp doll, I noticed I had my phone on me, and texted my mom to let her know I was staying at Emma's during the week. To my surprise, she didn't insist on me coming back; she didn't pull back on the leash around my neck. I can only imagine what my dad is thinking right now, what magic tricks my mom is using to keep him docile. No matter how she's doing it, or why, I'm grateful.
The story I made up, that I was only sick, that was for Sky.
"He said that if you were sick you would've let him know, and that if you were okay you would've been at school," she recites. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "He looked worried," she goes on, "but he didn't press me." Emma walks to me and sets her backpack on the mattress, "he just made me promise to look after you."
I roll my eyes, if only to keep from becoming emotional. "You would've looked after me either way."
"Yeah," she admits, sending me a wink "but maybe not as much."
I scoff into a smile. "So are you going to start making me soup from scratch now, or...?"
"No," her slender, pale hand reaches inside her backpack, rummaging around until she finds what she's looking for: a steel thermos. "But I might start delivering you some packages."
As soon as she unscrews the bottle, an amazing smell begins to waft throughout the room. Emma blinks. "Is that hot chocolate?"
I smile despite myself, and hold out a reaching hand. "That's mine."
Emma sniffs at it before shrugging and passing the thermos to me. "I could do better."
I ignore her and look into the molten, sweet, silky drink, an already melting marshmallow floating at its surface. "Did he say anything else?"
Emma stands to come to my side. "I think he assumed you wanted your privacy. He offered to take notes for you in class, but I told him I had it covered," she says with a proud smirk.
I take a silent sip. It's nice of him to leave me some space. But I don't know if that's what I want from him. "So," I divert, trying to distract myself from darker thoughts, "tomorrow's the big night."
"That's right," she breathes, "Jonathan looks excited. I think I saw him fidgeting around today." She grins. "The nervous teen-boy energy is wild."
"Oh, yeah?" I smile flatly, not really caring what the nervous teen-boy energy is doing out there.
"Yeah." She frowns a bit. "Sky is actually acting weird too."
Curiosity floods into my head fo the first time in days. I sit up. "Weird how?"
She hesitates, then shakes her head, blonde hair swishing. "I shouldn't tell you."
YOU ARE READING
Asunder
Teen Fiction"Promise me. Promise me you'll never beg someone to stay when they're already gone." Tangled up a million knots, Kingsley has lost faith in happiness. Her heavy heart struggles to continue to beat, and she is slowing down. It seems to her that the w...
