up tired, sore, and unmotivated to get out of bed or talk to anyone.
Mother opens my door and snaps, “You’re going to be late.”
“I’m sick.”
She marches over, setting her cold palm on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I feel like throwing up.”
“You’re going to school,” she says with finality, whipping the covers off me. “Now get up.”
My abs tighten, my thighs cramp, and my vagina spasms in protest when I slide out of bed. I wince with each movement, knowing I’ll need to wear a stoic mask for the school day.
Arissa is waiting in the living room when I finish getting ready. “Come on sleepyhead, we’ll be late if you keep moving at that pace.”
I pretend to listen to Arissa as she rambles on about some boy in her English class on our way to school. My silence continues in class, but no one notices the quiet girl.
“Are you okay?” Arissa asks, sitting in our usual lunch spot.
“I feel sick.”
“Do you want to go to the office?”
“No. I don’t have a fever and Mother won’t pick me up if I don’t have one.”
“Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”
Irritation rumbles within, threating to break free. I just want her to stop asking questions. It’s like pouring salt on a wound and mine are raw enough right now. “I’m always quiet.”
“Maybe with others, but not with me,” she says pointedly.
“I’m just tired.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been preoccupied since you came out of your room this morning.”
“I had nightmares all night.” Partial truth. My father haunted my dreams half the night. The other half was spent awake, fearing the nightmares.
Jason slides in next to me on the bench, draping his arm around me. “So how are my girls today?” he asks with a giant grin. The grin that makes me smile. The one I look forward to all morning.
I shrug his arm off.
A stabbing pain pierces my heart.
I do like him.
His hand flattens on the bench between us. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Maybe you can find out what’s bothering her, ‘cause I sure can’t,” Arissa says, jumping in.
“I told you already,” I say.
“I’m not buying it.”
He scrutinizes me. “Jericho’s right. What’s wrong?”
Here we go again. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“No. It’s something else.”
“I felt sick this morning and my mother made me come to school.”
“I don’t buy that either,” Arissa says.
“What is this?” I snap. “An interrogation just because I’ve been quiet? Is that a crime now?” Is it irony that after all the lies I told them, it’s the truth they don’t believe?
“Calm down,” Jason says, touching my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” My arm jerks back and his hand falls from my shoulder. “I don’t think your girlfriend would like it,” I add, hopefully covering my outburst.
His hands go up in a sign of surrender. “I’ll talk to you later, then,” he says, slinging his backpack over a shoulder and grabbing his tray.
“What was that all about?” Arissa asks once he’s gone.
I stare at my lap, shaking my head and holding back the tears.
“He didn’t even do anything, Sara. All he did was show some concern and you treated him like dirt.”
I don’t need her to make me feel bad. The stabbing pain returns, incessant this time, like a nail being driven into my heart one millimeter at a time.
We walk home and part in silence after school. I crawl into bed, forming a protective bubble around me with my covers.
The pealing doorbell wakes me from my nap.
When I open the door, Jason smiles and hands me a white calla lily. “Peace offering.”
“Thank you.” I accept the flower with a wisp of a smile.
“That’s the first smile I’ve seen from you today. But you still don’t seem yourself.”
“Maybe because I just woke up.”
“Napping, Parker?” He grins.
“I had nightmares all night.”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
“My parents aren’t home.” I leave the door open and sit with him on the porch stairs. “So, how did you find me?”
“Arissa.”
“Figures.” I twist the flower by the stem with my fingers.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad. Just typical of her.”
He nudges my shoulder with his. “She’s right, though.”
“About you?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
I let out a deep sigh. “She may be right, but I need you guys to leave it alone.”
“But we’re your friends and we care about you.”
“You keep saying I look different. How do I look different?” I change the subject anyway.
“Your eyes aren’t their usual bright green.”
Tears brim and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe in