Instructions for Dancing(33)
Probably because I ran away from them earlier, they both want to know if I’m happy for them. I tell them that I am, and I want to mean it. But all I can see is what their relationship does to our friendship.
X texts right as I’m getting into bed.
My stomach does a happy little boogie when his name pops up on my screen, but then the boogie turns into a slow, heavy shuffle. What am I even doing? Between Dad’s announcement and seeing the vision of Sophie and Cassidy, I don’t need any more reminders of why being with X is a bad idea.
X: Hey, just saying hey
X: Was your day good?
It takes me ten minutes to come up with something that answers his question without encouraging any follow-up questions.
Me: Yup. Getting into bed now though
Me: Have a good night
X: OK
X: Good night
I stay awake for a long time, thinking. People are always saying stuff like “Take a chance on love.” “Love is worth the risk.” Etc.
But the visions have taught me differently. Dad getting engaged to the woman he cheated on Mom with taught me differently. Yes, falling in love requires a leap of faith. But people only jump because they don’t know what the ground looks like. They believe their landing will be soft. That the ground is covered in soft stuff—feathers, down pillows, fluffy baby blankets, the shaggiest shag carpeting. But I’ve seen the ground. It is covered in lethal spikes fashioned from the bones of other jumpers.
The fall is not at all survivable.
CHAPTER 29
The Ones You Don’t See Coming, Part 3
THE NEXT DAY, I manage to avoid Sophie and Cassidy while also pretending not to avoid them. In the morning, I go to my locker ten minutes earlier than usual. At lunchtime, when they text me from the cafeteria, I tell them I’m catching up on homework in the library. After school, I say I have to run errands for Mom.
But they suspect something’s wrong.
Later that evening, Mom knocks on my door. “Your girls are here,” she says. “I didn’t know they were coming over.”
I didn’t either.
When I get downstairs, Sophie and Cassidy are both eating lemon-blueberry cookies from Mom’s latest recipe experiments. Sophie’s even drinking a glass of milk. Mom hangs out with us for a few minutes, asking the usual parent questions: How are your folks? How’s senior year? Ready for college? She’s done with her questions and they’re done with their cookies faster than I want them to be. Mom goes back to watching Sugared Up! on TV.
“Let’s go up to your room,” says Cassidy.
She starts in as soon as I close my door. “Why are you avoiding us?”
“I’m not,” I say, without meeting her eyes. We both know I’m lying. I try again. “I’m just really—”
“Busy. Yeah, we heard,” says Cassidy.
Sophie walks to my bed and sits down. “We were wondering if seeing us together is weird for you.”
“Why would it be weird?”
Cassidy sighs an impatient sigh, but Sophie keeps going. “Because Cassidy and I are a couple now and it makes things different for the four of us.”
“Martin’s fine with it,” Cassidy interjects.
Sophie gives Cassidy a please be quiet look.
Cassidy mimes zipping her lips.
“What’s going on with you?” asks Sophie.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“No, you’re not,” Cassidy says. She pushes herself off the door and sits down next to Sophie on my bed. “You’re cynical and a pain in the—”
Even though she’s right, I feel defensive, like I’m the focus of some kind of intervention. But I’m not the one who needs saving.
“I don’t think you guys should date,” I blurt out.
“See?” Cassidy says turning to Sophie. “I knew it!”
Sophie looks down at her hands. “But why?”
“I’m worried about what’ll happen to our friendship when you guys break up,” I say as gently as I can. But there’s no way to say a thing like that gently.
Sophie folds her arms tight across her chest and taps her foot. “Who says we’re going to break up?”
“I mean…most couples break up eventually, right?”
Weirdly, it’s Cassidy who tries to save me from myself. “Eves, come on. We’re in love. Just be happy for us.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I can’t pretend to be happy about the end of our friendship.”
It’s funny how many different kinds of silences there are. This one is shocked and disappointed and final.
I could tell them about Dad getting engaged to Shirley. Cassidy would get angry on my behalf and Sophie would be sympathetic. They’d both forgive me for the awful things I just said, but I don’t. I’m just trying to stop them from hurting each other. From hurting all of us.
They stand at the same time. I feel their eyes on me, but I stare down at my feet. I don’t look up as I hear my bedroom door open or as I hear their footsteps heavy on the stairs or as I hear the slam of the front door.
I know our friendship was going to change anyway. We’re all going to separate colleges in the fall. But I thought we still had the rest of the summer for our epic road trip, for things to be the way they’ve always been. Now it turns out we don’t have any time left.