The Mother's Promise(24)

Zoe glanced at Lucy’s hair. Lucy was one of those people who on first glance looked really pretty, but on closer inspection she had a strangely equine look about her that had meant the majority of the student body, Emily included, called her Seabiscuit behind her back. Her hair, now cut into a short, shaggy style, only made her look horsier.

Zoe waited, but Emily didn’t turn around. Had she heard? Lucy looked away from the mirror and right at Zoe, making it clear that she had heard.

“Em?” Zoe tried to look casual, but her facial muscles were too tense. “Can I talk to you? In private?”

“Emily?” Jessie Lee said, from her locker. “Zoe is talking to you.”

The silence that followed was as long and uncomfortable as any Zoe had ever experienced. Emily stiffened but she didn’t turn or acknowledge Zoe. She didn’t even acknowledge Jessie Lee.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said to Lucy finally. “Hair grows! I mean, there’s just two weeks between a good haircut and a bad haircut, right?”

A second later the bell rang and Emily shut her locker. “Okay,” she said, “time for math.”

And she was gone. Zoe stood there for a moment, shame and horror ballooning inside her. All around, people headed off to class in twos or threes, chewing gum and laughing and being normal. Zoe longed to run to the bathroom and hide out for the rest of the day, or even just crawl inside her locker and shut the door. Instead, she went to class.

During math, Emily didn’t once look in her direction. Seth and Cameron sat in the back row snickering, and though Zoe kept her eyes forward, she was sure they were laughing at her. Harry Lynch, once again, sat in the seat right in front of Zoe, and Zoe spent most of the time staring at his giant football-playing shoulders—actually, now that she looked at them, they weren’t as giant as she remembered—but even that came to an end when he got up in the middle of class and walked out. Harry did that every now and again. They’d be in the middle of class when, bang, he’d just get up and leave. The teachers rarely asked where he was going, and if they did, his answer was always “Fishin’.” It was weird.

Science was next, then history, and Emily wasn’t in those classes.

And then it was lunchtime.

Zoe moved quickly through the cafeteria, grabbing a tray and joining the line. Alone. When the cashier spat her out the other end with a carton of potato wedges, she headed toward Emily in the back corner. She couldn’t give her the silent treatment forever, Zoe told herself. And if they could just speak privately, Zoe could explain everything.

Zoe walked purposefully toward her, but just a few paces away she pulled up sharp. Emily was sitting with Lucy Barker.

“Hey!” came a voice behind her, a guy with dreadlocks. “Are you just gonna stand there? Move along!”

Zoe jumped out of the way, and straight into someone else’s way. Finally she pulled up a seat at the nearest table and sat, trying to disappear. She crossed her legs so only one foot was on the ground. When she looked up, she noticed Harry, in the far corner of the table, hunched over what looked like another homemade sandwich. Did he always bring his lunch from home?

“Oh.” Her chair screeched as she stood again. “Sorry.”

You couldn’t just go and sit with anyone in high school. That wasn’t how it worked. Some people would be polite about it—just give you major side-eye and exchange glances until you went away. Other people would be more vocal about it. Zoe didn’t know which type Harry was, and she wasn’t willing to take the risk.

“Zoe?”

Zoe blinked. Emily was standing at the end of the table. “Em, hey,” she said pathetically.

“You could at least have had the decency to come and say you’re sorry. And a text message isn’t the same.” Her voice was mortifyingly loud.

“I’m sorry.”

“What is wrong with you anyway?” Emily stared at her for a long minute. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“Normal is overrated,” Harry muttered.

Zoe and Emily both turned to look at him, but he kept his head down as if he hadn’t spoken. Maybe he hadn’t?

Emily looked back at Zoe. “Do you know what else is overrated? People who can’t inconvenience themselves for one night to help out a friend. People who are so selfish they can’t see how their actions affect others. People who call themselves your best friend, when really their best friend is themselves.” Horrifyingly, Emily’s voice was climbing. Three or four people at the next table spun in their chairs and listened unashamedly. “People who spend so much time thinking about what other people think of them that it escapes them that no one thinks about them at all, because no one has a clue that they exist!”

At the next table there was a gasp, and a snicker. Someone said, “Bitch fight.”

The air in the room started to vanish. I can’t breathe, Zoe thought. Spots of purple and red appeared in front of her eyes, and her heart—it felt like it might burst. I am in a safe place, she told herself. I’m in control.

But she wasn’t. And Emily was still talking.

“Hey,” someone said. “Zoe? Are you all right?”

Breathe, Zoe told herself. You know what this is. Just breathe and you’ll be all right.

“Zoe!”

“I have to go,” she said, and stood so fast her seat flew backward. She ran across the cafeteria, swerving to avoid someone and slamming instead into the wall.