Twelve Steps to Normal(15)

Through her springy coils I see Whitney. She looks uncomfortable. Is it bad that I feel justified? Maybe.

But it’s Whitney. She’s the one who half-carried me to the nurse when I sprained my ankle at dance camp in middle school. When we were eight, she talked my dad into letting us go to her uncle’s ranch so I could finally learn how to ride a horse like a true Texan. She’s been there through all my fallout crushes and tears over failed tests and through all the frustrations with my dad.

I can’t hold Jay against her. We’ve been through so much. Besides, I was the one who cut off communication. It’s a miracle they’re all still talking to me.

When Raegan releases me, I bounce over and hug Whitney. I feel her tension dissolve, and I wonder if she can sense my own relief.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she says when she lets me go. Then she gestures for me to sit in the empty seat between her and Lin. “How was Portland?”

Lin slides a paper plate with a large pepperoni pizza slice on it. I thank her and hand her three bucks. “Uneventful,” I say truthfully. “I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too,” Breck says, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at his own reflection using the front-facing camera on his phone and stroking his smooth, dark skin near his cheek.

“Breck is growing a beard,” Whitney explains in a very unenthusiastic voice.

Breck looks up at the sound of his name. He leans closer to me in case I need to further inspect his patchy facial hair, which is not even close to a beard. “It’s coming in nicely, see?” He stares back at his phone. “I’m going to keep growing it.”

Whitney rolls her eyes. “Don’t. You look diseased.”

Breck ignores her, looking at me. “I’m trying to appear more distinguished. A beard is a sign of maturity and—” He glances at Lin. “I’m trying to convince this one to let me on Academic Decathlon.”

Lin appears unmoved. “We already have enough for Varsity.”

I know from Lin that decathlon is ranked by your GPA, the top-tier being Honors, then Scholastic, then Varsity, and you have to have a mix of all three in order for your team to compete.

“Ah, but I’m a Scholastic student.” Breck leans over the table. “And I know you need a replacement since Araceli graduated.”

“Yeah, we need a dedicated replacement.”

While they bicker about Breck’s commitment to both basketball and decathlon, Whitney turns to me. Her wavy brown hair has been cut into layers that frame her face, and she’s ditched her heavy concealer for a more natural-looking powder. I didn’t think it was possible for her to get any prettier.

“Are you going out for Wavettes this year?” she asks me.

“You have to!” Raegan squeals. She digs her fork into the packaged salads we swore we’d never buy because the chicken in them looked like cow brains. But I notice she and Whitney are both eating them. “I’m co-captain, did I tell you that? The team voted for me!”

“Only because nobody wanted Brianne Bossy-Ass as co-captain,” Whitney says. Is that jealousy in her voice?

Raegan lets the comment slide. “Tryouts are next week.”

Although I was never a fan of the grueling practices, I loved performing Friday nights with everyone. The bus rides to the games were the best part. We’d blast music and make silly faces for pictures we’d later post on Instagram. I wonder if this is Whitney’s way of letting me know she still wants me to be part of that.

“I’ll be there,” I tell them.

“She’s definitely joining Earth Club,” Lin brags. She’s never been on dance team with us, and sometimes I think she feels left out. Earth Club has always been our thing.

I smile at Lin. She looks so happy. How could I ever have stopped talking to her? It was stupid. I was so self-absorbed in my miserable life that I didn’t realize they were only trying to stay connected to me.

Colton leans over, trying to steal one of Lin’s pepperonis off her pizza. It’s an unsurprising maneuver coming from him. He was always doing this freshman year, even after eating two entire burgers by himself.

She pulls her plate away just in time. “Eat your own food.”

He looks glumly at his empty tray. “I did.”

Colton has been Jay and Breck’s friend for as long as I can remember. He’s one of the poor souls who’s had the misfortune of wearing braces for the last three years and counting, and he’s always wearing obscure band T-shirts with a long-sleeved flannel over them. Today’s shirt reads BLOODSPURT, which almost makes me lose my appetite.

I try not to lose my appetite even more when he starts picking food out of his braces.

Raegan makes a grand gesture of flipping her spiral open.

Jay groans. “Already?”

I have no idea what’s going on.

Whitney elbows him in the ribs. “Be nice. She’s president this year.”

Oh. I get it. She’s in charge of the Leadership Council agenda.

“Thank you,” Raegan tells Whitney, then she sweeps her gaze over the table. “You all better be nice to me, or I’m not inviting you to the White House when I’m the first black female president.”

Colton’s head shoots up. “Will you have a personal chef?”