​​Chapter Forty-Four
Wren

I wake up too early on Saturday. The entire week has been absolutely glue-less because as much as I want to ask Rhonda to loan me a twenty, the mere fact that I know her real name feels like we’re on a whole other level. I also keep asking myself what Mrs. Ling would think. WWLT.

So I sober my way through the week with only a slight stabbing behind my right eye. It’s a little easier knowing I don’t have to watch my back for Leslie. She finally makes up with The Preps, but I can tell her face isn’t in it. Besides a few lunches together, I don’t see her other than the times she flashes by me in the hall. We head nod, but that’s about it. I hope she shows up this weekend at Morningside.

Mareck isn’t in school. The Redhead is a lone fly buzzing on Leslie’s outskirts. I follow her, praying to the Jesus I used to believe in that we meet again somehow. And then we do. In the basement bathroom.

I might as well make it my personal office.

She’s shoved herself into a little ball on the floor. It’s Friday. Even I believe she should be over him by now.

“Hey,” I say, and I get this weird premonition that she’ll say “hay is for horses,” but she hardly acknowledges my presence.  I could really use some glue.

“You know, he was my boyfriend first, and you don’t see me still moping about it,” I say. She looks up a little. It’s the truth. This week’s been killer. I’ve realized when I’m sober, I have to deal with things. So I’ve done so the best way I know how. Eating a remarkable amount of Slim Jims Jerry keeps stashed in the cabinets and burning photos of Mareck in the bathroom sink. The worst part is that Dad doesn’t show up anymore.

“Then you never really loved him,” she says.

“I find it kind of amusing you fell in love with someone in a matter of hours.” She turns at me, and I bite my tongue to keep the realization at bay that even though she’s covered in tears and a little bit of snot, she’s still ten times prettier than me.

“It wasn’t hours,” she says. The words are filled with poison, each one shot right into my bloodstream. Oh. So this has been going on for a while now. Perfect.

“Where is he?” I ask. I slide my back down the wall, and she balls up tighter away from me. Her skin is pure white, and I have the same reaction, the knee-jerk need to move away but only because I’m sitting too close to perfection. But I get a glimpse of one of her wrists. The sweater is hiked up and there are faded white slices against the veins there. It’s like seeing the Wizard behind the curtain or getting the opportunity to smash your bully right in the face.

I should know.

“Little Rock. Initiation.” I wait for this pill of truth to make me gag, but it doesn’t. I’m heartbroken on a far different level than I expect. I don’t hurt for me. I hurt for Mareck.

And I don’t even care that I most definitely won’t be seeing my bike again.

The Redhead sniffs, and I want her to wallow in her pain. To suffocate in it. How dare she fall in love with what was mine, the only thing that’s kept me alive this whole time. But then I think about the glue and how it’s gone. And Dad, how he’s gone. And now Mareck. And how no matter all of that, I’m still looking forward to seeing Mrs. Ling. But still, how dare she. And I go to tell her that, but then I see her wrist again.

So instead, my arm finds a way around her shoulders, and I don’t even care that she wets my hair with tears.