Anything but Ordinary(36)

She let the throbbing subside. A knock on the door. Her mother’s voice. “Hi, sweetie.”

Bryce stood and wiped at her face again. She opened the door to her mother, who gave her a small smile.

“Carter’s upstairs; he wants to do a quick checkup before you go,” she said.

Carter was waiting for her in the kitchen as she carried her bag up the stairs into the cloudy morning. He turned around from where he was rearranging the Grahams’ spice rack by flavor combination.

When he finished taking her blood pressure, he picked a piece of lint off her cheek. Bryce blushed.

“You look a little peakish.”

“You sound like you’re from the Victorian era.”

He looked at his clipboard for no reason, clicking the clip at the top. “I care about you,” he said, a little too loudly.

“Well, thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. His eyes darted around, then back to her. They were so gray this morning. Like the sky.

“I mean, I woke up this morning and I remembered you were going away for the weekend, and I got so disappointed.”

Bryce couldn’t help but smile. “I’m just going downtown with a bunch of girls. So don’t worry, you’re not missing anything.” She squeezed his arm and began to turn away. It was time to get going.

He stopped her. “No, I mean I’ll miss you.”

Bryce met his gray eyes. No, silver. They were almost silver. His shoulders lifted under his T-shirt in a small shrug. He felt tall to her. Taller this morning. Bryce swallowed.

His lips pursed. “I got something for you.”

Carter pulled out what looked like a little silk package. He unfolded it and handed it to Bryce.

“A sleep mask,” she said, smiling. It was navy blue silk with a gray rose pattern.

“It keeps out the light,” he explained. “It’ll help you sleep. Help with headaches, if you get them.”

Bryce fingered the mask. I doubt anything could help this weekend, she thought, but she said, “Thank you.”

Bryce’s phone vibrated in her palm. Outside! Gabby texted. Bryce took a deep breath.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. His smile was small, quiet.

Bryce turned with some mixture of calm and relief. She slipped the mask into her bag. She walked as quickly as she could down the empty driveway, feeling her damp, freshly showered hair.

A white hotel van idled on the other side of the street. Bryce climbed in and was immediately enveloped in a soft, fragrant group hug. All she could see was a tangle of Gabby’s midnight waves, a short afro with a green scarf, and straight strawberry-blond locks.

They broke apart.

“So this is the Bryce!” said the taller of the two girls, readjusting the scarf around her tight black curls. Her smile was sweet, and her brown, long-lashed eyes oozed sympathy.

The strawberry blonde laughed at her friend’s expression and extended a hand. Bryce took it and got a closer look at the girl. She had bright green eyes and freckles. “I’m Zen,” she said, “And that’s Mary.”

Mary pulled Bryce into another hug. “Yes, I’m Mary. I’m so sorry, you must be so sick of this, but your story is just…miraculous.”

Two more girls sat in the back row of the van—both brunettes, one with a bob, one with shoulder-length hair. They were just like Gabby. Pretty, enthusiastic, sweet. Bryce couldn’t remember their names, even though they had just said them seconds ago.

As someone handed Bryce a cup of coffee, the van started down River Drive. Their conversations bounced around her. Bryce felt the coffee run on a hot path from her throat to her stomach.

From the front seat, Gabby filled Bryce in about Mary’s soon-to-be gig as a middle school math teacher in Oregon. Then Zen, a dancer from Vermont, started in on college gossip. Bryce watched their conversation like a tennis match.

“Did you hear about Gillian and Fred? They moved to Columbus.”

“Columbus? Christ.”

“At least they’re not holed up in a closet in Bushwick. Madison looks emaciated, but not in a good way. She’s taking the starving New York artist thing way too seriously.”

“Madison is this wannabe fame-whore from the drama department,” one of the brunettes explained from the backseat. “You know the type. Acts like she’s still in high school.”

“Oh my god.” Zen’s face broke out in a devious smile. “Wait a minute. Bryce, you have to tell us how Gabby was in high school.”

“That’s right.” Mary cocked an eyebrow. “There’s only one photo of her on Facebook from back then, and she looks like one of those girls who goes to Renaissance fairs.”

“What? No way.” Gabby put her hands over her face. “Let’s not go back there.”

Bryce shrugged. Why was she so embarrassed?

“She’s a great diver,” Bryce said. She froze, realizing she was using the present tense. “She was that girl who would talk to anyone, no matter who it was. The smelly kid; or Rebecca, the bitchiest, most popular girl at Hilwood; or the principal; anyone. She didn’t care about what lunch table she sat at, or if her lab partner had just gotten out of juvie, or anything like that. She didn’t look down on anyone.”

“Wait, so Gabby wasn’t Miss Popular?” Mary looked at Gabby with mock surprise.