days.
It’s been eight days since I last saw him.
Love messes you up. At first it’s like being born again. You meet Life, real life, for the very first time and it gives you this heart full of love and happiness. And everything is as beautiful as it should be. But then suddenly it turns and walks away. And you stand there in shock, watching it go. You want to shout, “Wait a minute!” But it keeps walking. And you want to rip open your chest and throw your heart right back at it, wishing you’d never had a taste of love in the first place.
I get out my notebook and write another letter. The billionth one I have written to Michael.
The ink spills blue blood. I wish it were my blood. Bright, bright red, dead blood.
My heart is schizophrenic. One sentence is about how much I hate him. The next is about how much I love him. It goes on like that, back and forth, pacing. My pen is imprisoned on the paper. It can’t get out. I know he’ll think I’m crazy, but I can’t stop myself. In the first few letters my words were good, like poetry. But now I write everything, anything. Threats. Lies. Warnings. In one letter, I say I’ll kill myself. In another, I say I’m pregnant. And in another, I threaten I’ll call the police and tell them about us. I write anything to get him to call. I don’t care how crazy I sound, or pathetic or desperate. Because I am crazy and pathetic and desperate.
Ten
They say I have a few months to change my life. And if I don’t … what? I spend Christmas in juvenile detention? A diversion program? Screw that. They can’t control my life, though I suppose they could put me in jail.
After school on Monday, I meet up with Jasmyn and Ally and tell them I’m thinking about running. They don’t seem to be the slightest bit worried about their charges because their parents just don’t care and they’re not being forced to go to a different school. Jasmyn tells me to chill and says that chances are, since I’m white and innocent-looking and it’s my first charge, they won’t do anything anyway, so I don’t need to panic. She’s been charged three times and still hasn’t gone to jail. “And I’m black!” she adds, like that’s the proof right there. “The most they’re gonna do is put you on house arrest, and that’s a total joke, ’cause your ma ain’t gonna call the cops on you. She’ll just pretend she don’t see what you do.”
I know what Jasmyn says might be true, but to be honest, part of me kind of likes this ultimatum. ’Cause I want a new life. I want to be new.
As we walk to the park to smoke, Ally and Jasmyn start talking about the break-in night. They laugh hard about all of it, especially the fact I pissed my pants. I fall behind a little because I need to make a decision about my future, and my ADD doesn’t let me talk and think at the same time. I haven’t run yet, which sort of tells me I don’t want to. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, so if this was really what I wanted, I would have taken off that first night after the meeting at my house. So the fact I’m still around pretty much tells me I want this change. And sure, I want a new school and a new life, but the real reason I’d agree to go to the special school is because I want Michael back. And if changing my life does it, if being a good girl with a good future brings him back to me, I’ll do it.
Eleven
Because I’m grounded, my mom and I split a bottle of white wine during dinner on Friday night. Though she has called and set up appointments for the new school, I still haven’t agreed to go. I haven’t talked to her all week and so I’m definitely not happy about staying home for the weekend. “If we’re cooped up together, we may as well have a little fun,” she says cheerily while pouring herself a full cup and giving me just half. She’s trying to be nice and make things good between us, but I just can’t help but be a bitch to her. I don’t know why. There’s no real reason. It’s