The Pretty One(65)

“Too bad you’re still sick,” Lucy says, walking into our room.

“Marybeth said you were invited, too.”

The aroma of Lucy’s sweet-smelling perfume fills the air as she sits on the edge of my bed and puts her hand on my forehead, her bracelets jingling as she moves. Lucy has spent the past forty-five minutes getting ready for school and looks as if she just stepped out of a fashion shoot. She is wearing a bright-red low-cut, skintight top; black jeans; and the same high-heeled boots she wore on her date to the play. “You don’t have a temperature.”

“I still feel sick, though.” I pull out two tissues and wipe the snot off my face for emphasis. There is no way I’m going to Marybeth’s. The whole reason I’m staying home from school is so I don’t have to see Drew.

“Do you need anything?” she asks.

On my first day of claiming to be sick, my sister practically ignored me. On the second day, she began to pay me a little bit of attention, grudgingly bringing me soup and ginger ale in bed. Even though I feel a little guilty about having her wait on me when I’m not really sick, a part of me is enjoying it. It is a restoration of the natural order of the world, the way things are supposed to be. I’m Lucy’s little sister. It’s her job to look out for my best interests and take care of me.

“More ginger ale,” I say, as I crumple the tissues into a ball and shoot it toward the trash. I miss the basket by a solid foot but my sister pretends not to notice.

“You finished it off last night,” Lucy says, standing. “I’ll pick some up on my way home from school. I don’t have practice today because Russell is going to New York this weekend and he’s leaving early.” She stops in the doorway. “If you want me to stay home with you tonight, I will.”

Lucy is willing to miss her date with Drew for me? After weeks of acting like she couldn’t stand to be around me, the generosity of her offer is surprising and astounding, not to mention tempting. “No,” I say finally. “You should go.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

I rub my forehead in an attempt to stop the sudden pounding inside my head. I’m doing the right thing, right? I can’t ask her to stay home just because I don’t want her getting her grubby paws on the guy I thought for a split second might be…mine. Or can I?

“Yes, of course,” I manage. Once again I have an urge to tell Lucy the truth, that I’m so in love with Drew that the thought of her alone with him makes me feel physically sick, but instead I say, “What time is he picking you up?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I think we’re meeting there.”

I’m relieved. I had actually planned on locking the bedroom door, putting on my iPod, and hiding under the covers if Drew came by to get Lucy.

After my sister leaves for school, I check my e-mail. I have been hoping that Simon might contact me just to ask how I’m feeling, or maybe just to tell me that he’s reconsidered his ultimatum. But there’s nothing. In the past few days I’ve pretty much alternated from feeling furious (why did he even give me an ultimatum and how come he didn’t feel this way about me before my accident) to sad (what am I going to do without my best friend?). The truth of the matter is that I really need Simon right now. And I do not appreciate him bagging out on me in the middle of my crisis.

For the umpteenth time I attempt to write him an e-mail.



Dear Simon,

I think this is really unfair.



Scratch that. After all, it’s not like he dumped me out of the blue because he couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. He dumped me because he cared about me more than I cared about him. Well, maybe not more, but in a different way. Perhaps I needed to show him some compassion. Especially since I of all people understand what it’s like to care about someone who doesn’t feel the same way about you.



Dear Simon,

I really do love you. But I just don’t think we’re meant for



I stop. How can I tell my best friend that I’m not attracted to him? And why did he have to go and get attracted to me in the first place?



Dear Simon,

I find it very interesting that you were never ever interested in meromantically before my accident and now, a little more than a month after you first saw me with my new face, you have given me an ultimatum, i.e.: If I don’t go out with you, you will have nothing more to do with me. Well, let me tell you that…



Suddenly, my computer dings and I see I have a message—from Drew. My hands begin to shake. I click on his name and his message fills the screen.



Lucy says you’re still sick. What’s wrong?



I don’t answer him. I can’t. Just him inquiring about my health is enough to make my heart ache all over again. No matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out how he could have asked my sister out on a date and then come over here and act as if nothing had transpired between him and Lucy at all.

I’m in bed (still wearing my pajamas) when Lucy gets home at four. I finished my Captain Ahab diorama yesterday and although I’ve had more than enough time to catch up on my schoolwork this afternoon, I haven’t done anything expect try on my once too-snug jeans to see if my Lucy diet is working (it is) and watch TV.

“You don’t look so good,” she says. “Maybe you should go to the doctor.”