Falling into Place(17)

On the first day of her freshman year, an upperclassman named Lori Andersen elbowed Liz into a locker and called her a stupid freshman.

During lunch, Liz stole Lori’s car keys while Lori was in the lunch line, turned the car alarm on, and threw the keys in a toilet. Then, while Lori was fuming, Liz offered her sympathies and a coupon to the salon for a free facial waxing. Lori, who had an unfortunate habit of underestimating freshmen, took it.

That particular salon was owned by Kennie’s uncle. He’d opened it when he got out of prison and found out that he could get paid to pull hair out of people.

Liz called him and told him that Lori would be coming by after school. She asked him to please give her the special, free of charge. He replied that it would be his pleasure.

The next day, Lori came to school with newly cut bangs. It wasn’t the best look for her, though her friends assured her that it was adorable. It went well until Lori went outside for gym, and the wind blew her bangs back.

It was then that everyone saw that Lori Andersen no longer had eyebrows.

Liz took Lori’s place at the Center Table in the Cafeteria That Looked Exactly Like All the Other Tables but Held Immense Social Meaning.

Later, she would wonder what would have happened if she had let her world change as it should have changed. On nights when she remembered Lori Andersen’s missing eyebrows, she told herself that it would have happened anyway. Lori’s grades would have dropped anyway. She would have had to work at Subway instead of going to college anyway.

And besides, her eyebrows grew back.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Ziplock Bags


Liz’s next class is government. They were supposed to debate the death penalty, but today, even the affirmative squad wants to argue that no one deserves to die.

Besides, they’re missing a member of their team.

Liz is not fantastic at debate, pointwise. She just happens to like arguing, and she has an incredible talent for making others look stupid.

Julia is also in this class, but she hates debating. It isn’t that she’s not eloquent—she could probably win every debate based on her vocabulary alone—but she doesn’t understand absolutes. She doesn’t see why one side is completely right and the other completely wrong.

Which isn’t to say that Julia is any more secure in her morals than Liz is. Julia has plenty of issues, the greatest being the ziplock bag she buys from the RadioShack pervert every Sunday after church.

Julia sits there and thinks about the fight she and Liz had the day before yesterday. Just two days ago. Julia glances at the clock and hates it for its blind, relentless ticking, because every moment that passes is another step from yesterday, when Liz was whole and alive, and the world was all right.


It was an old fight. Or at least it had brewed for long enough—three days ago it had simply exploded, burst from both of them, and now it stretches across the hours and hours to hang over them like a storm.

Julia wants to go back to the hospital. She wants to apologize. No, she wants to say that she will do as Liz asked, she will get help, she will move the world to keep Liz Emerson alive.

But she can’t. Get help, or move the world.

Instead she thinks about how it all began, and the regret grows and grows until it’s almost a tangible thing that she can rip out and bury and undo.

Almost.

It started after their freshman homecoming game. They were sitting behind the bleachers with an innocuous bag of white powder, which Liz had seen peeking out of a stranger’s pocket. Naturally, she had stolen it so they could try it. Just a little bit each. Kennie was excited, because she was Kennie and new things, no matter how stupid, made her bounce. Liz was rather indifferent to it all. She was only doing it because she was Liz Emerson.

But Julia—Julia was skeptical on the outside and so, so scared on the inside. Her hands were shaking as she watched Liz inhale, as Kennie tried and choked and got it in her eyes. Her hands shook as she took the bag and opened it, and they shook when she hesitated.

Liz laughed.

Julia did it because of the way Liz stared at her, daring her to take the risk for once. So she did. She took the risk while Liz and Kennie forgot everything their middle-school health teacher had ever taught them—assuming that they had actually listened in the first place. That drugs worked differently on everyone. That you really could get addicted on the first try.

Julia remembered. It didn’t matter.

Soon Kennie couldn’t sit still, Liz was laughing, and Julia was still shaking. Pleasantly, at first, but as the other two began to quiet down, she shook harder because her fingers kept reaching for more, until there was none left.