Secondary Characters (Novella) - By Rachel Schieffelbein Page 0,23
heart suddenly too big for my chest. She’s always been my number one fan. I kneel down on the rug in front of her and put my hands on her knees.
“Sophie, you are all kinds of awesome.”
She grins and I feel so much better. We hear mom calling her name and Sophie scurries off as quickly as she came. I look at myself in the mirror again. My face is no longer red. In fact, I look pretty good. I realize something.
This is my story. It’s not Amber’s. If I don’t want to go, I don’t have to.
I’m ready to go tell her that, but my feet won’t move.
The real problem is I want to go. I want to see Lance.
Damn it.
Chapter Fourteen
My stomach is in knots as we walk toward Lance’s house. Thank God all Amber can think about is Nick’s mouth or she’d be grilling me about why I’m being so weird about coming here. She’s not an idiot. Normally she’d have totally figured it out. But instead she’s telling me all the details of her relationship that I’ve missed out on since we haven’t been hanging out much, even though I was perfectly happy not knowing them, and how she can’t wait to see him tonight. So, yeah, thank God for raging hormones. Well, for hers.
Lance opens the door in a bright blue shirt that makes his eyes look amazing and once again my stomach does a major, Olympic-gymnast kind of jump and spin. Why did I agree to come here? I’ve been doing my absolute best to avoid him for the past week, and now I’ve walked right up to his house. I must be totally out of my mind.
“Hey,” he says, kicking at the carpet.
“Hey.” Brilliant, Mabel. I hate that it’s so difficult to talk to him now. I stare at my feet as we walk down to the basement.
Amber and Nick take the couch and I’m sure it won’t take them long to get comfortable.
I sit in the recliner and try to act like a normal human being. One that knows where to put her hands without thinking about it and who remembers to breathe in and out naturally, without constant reminders. I’m not doing a very good job of it.
I stare at the screen and try to pretend that Ryan Gosling is so fascinating I am completely unaware of what else is happening in the room. Unaware of Nick and Amber pawing at each other. Unaware of the strange looks Amber keeps giving me, undoubtedly trying to figure out if I’m pissed at her or not.
Unaware of every time Lance moves. Every time he shifts his weight, or glances at them, at her, or at me. At least, I think he’s been glancing at me.
“Hey,” he leans toward me and whispers, “can we talk?”
“Sure,” I say. I mean it’s not like I can say, No. Leave me alone and please don’t talk to me ever again.
Plus, part of me wants to be alone with him. The masochistic part, I guess. I mean, I might as well be honest with myself. It’s why I came tonight. I’ve missed him this last week. I want to hear what he has to say, even though I figure he probably just wants to know if I said something to Amber about what he said. I know if I were a guy, I wouldn’t want my best friend’s girlfriend to know I had a crush on her.
We’re back on the front steps. This time I sit as close to the railing as possible, trying to leave room between us. And I am not looking at the stars. I stare down at his yard. The grass is starting to brown. In another month or so, it’ll be covered in snow. Goose bumps spread out across my skin and I wrap my arms around myself, pulling my soft cardigan tighter against my body.
“Um, I wanted to ask you something,” he says, then stops. He looks nervous. I let him squirm for a minute. He fidgets, runs his hand through his hair, shifts his weight back and forth.
“Don’t worry,” I finally say. “I didn’t say anything to Amber.”
“What?” His head jerks up and he looks at me with utter confusion. “Say anything about what?”
I roll my eyes and try not to look at him. “About you liking her.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t like her. I mean, she seems nice and all, but I don’t like her.” I snort. “Oh