Tragedy Girl - Christine Hurley Deriso Page 0,17
I’ll ever feel at home anywhere again.
“Hey, beautiful.”
The text is from Blake. He’s sent me several today, probably half a dozen just since I got back from Melanie’s house, but I’ve responded to only a couple of them, and then as tersely as possible. It’s almost midnight, I’ve been studying for an English Lit test for hours, I have a shrink appointment after school tomorrow, I need some sleep …
But maybe these are just excuses. The note Melanie got really shook me up. It’s one thing to stumble through life when nobody is paying attention, but this situation … I know it’s not Blake’s fault, but what with Natalie’s outbursts and the creepy anonymous note and my general sense that Blake is the most talked-about person in school, I feel like a monkey in a zoo, being observed, monitored, scrutinized—the same feelings that drove me four states away after my parents died. It just feels like a lot of pressure.
“Talk to me, babe.”
I stare at the text, nibble a fingernail, and then respond: “Been studying all day. Sorry I’m not very chatty .”
He texts back: “I’m lying in my bed crying.”
I push myself up onto an elbow. “Crying? Why? ”
“A movie on TV tonite, this sappy movie about these star-crossed lovers. I saw it at the theater a few months back.”
“With Cara? ” I probe.
“Yeah. Stupid, huh? ”
I stare at the words for a few seconds, take a deep breath, and then call him.
“Hey, babe,” he says in a choked voice, sniffling.
“Hey. I hate that you’re upset. I’m sorry; I didn’t know … ”
“I’m okay,” he says, weeping through his words. “I’m much better now that I’m talking to you. I think I spent three solid hours at her gravesite today.”
“I get it. Really, I do.”
“Do you? Because, Anne, I want you to know, I think you’re … I think you’re maybe the greatest girl I’ve ever met.” More sniffles. “I don’t want to blow this by spending all my time with you talking about her.”
“No, no, not at all. I’d think something was wrong with you if you didn’t feel this way.”
“I get that about you,” he says, his voice still quavering. “You’re so sensitive. Plus, you’ve been there. You know.”
“Yeah. I know … ”
“Well … I’m not going to spend the rest of my life blubbering. I’m going to devote my future to honoring her past. That’s the least I can do.” He chokes on his words.
“That’s great, Blake.”
“I mean it,” he stresses. “I already do a lot of volunteer work for the children’s hospital—that’s where I was treated for my cancer, you know—and I’m told I’m really good at motivating and inspiring people. I’m going to devote my life to doing good. For Cara’s sake.”
I nod. “That’s really admirable.”
“But I’m not going to live in the past. Am I selfish for wanting to move forward?”
“No, of course not.”
He sniffles some more. “I want to move forward, Anne. I want to move forward with you.”
Nine
“I keep having these dreams.”
“Yes?” Dr. Sennett says, a pencil resting against her chin.
I push my sweater tighter against my chest, chilled by the artificial air in her office. “I dream I catch a glance of my parents, then rush toward them, but then they’re gone. I know they can’t be far—I just saw them—but every street I take, or every door I go through, just gets me more off track. They get farther away instead of closer.”
Dr. Sennett nods inscrutably, her brown hair resting on her shoulders.
“The weird thing,” I continue, “is that I feel like I’m actually communicating with my mom while this is happening. She’s telling me it’s too soon to see them, that seeing them now, while my grief is still so raw, will only leave me upset and frustrated.”
Dr. Sennett smiles mildly. “Sounds like a wise mom.”
“But she’s wrong,” I say firmly. “I need to see them.”
Dr. Sennett leans up, resting her forearms on her legs. “Anne, I don’t delve too deeply into the supernatural, but just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there. The love and guidance they gave you while they were living? That’s still here. They’re still guiding you, if in no other way than through the seeds they planted while they were raising you. Can you be content knowing they’re still a part of you without having to actually see them? At least for now?”
I blink briskly, surprising myself by having tears in my eyes. “I’m just so lonely …