THIRTEEN

That night, I sat on the edge of my tub and ran the water as hot as I could stand it. With my pajama pants rolled up, and steam swirling around me, I slowly dipped my feet into the tub.

Hissing, I waited for my skin to adjust to the burn, then finally relaxed. Soaking my feet was something I usually shared with Ellie. She was the one who started it. After grueling dance classes, she liked to sear away the ache. Tonight, though, she had an extra performance, and I needed some quiet time.

My fingers skated across the screen of my phone. I hesitated, then touched the messaging icon. Heart thrumming madly, I typed my message slowly. And then I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to send it. I felt like Jane was standing right behind me, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. I heard her voice clearly, reminding me that I needed to make myself happy. So what did I want? What did I actually, truly want?

It was like standing on the edge of a cliff. I could back away from the edge. I could make up with Dave. If he apologized, I could, too. Things would be the same kind of normal they’d ever been. I could hide in the sweet, steady warmth of his arms and never come out again.

No, I told myself. I couldn’t.

I could stand here all alone. Or I could decide that it was time to jump. So I hit send.

Tag, you’re it.

No last time I checked u were figuring stuff out, Will replied.

Last chance. Last chance to abandon the intoxicating, terrifying possibility of Will Spencer. My fingers flew, and I hit send without shame. I know. And I did. Broke up w/ Dave this morning.

Srsly?

I’d never lie about that. So tag. You’re it.

Swirling my feet in the water, I watched the screen with dread and anticipation. What if this had all been a game for him? What if he’d played it with other girls? My heart swore he hadn’t. I wanted to believe it, but now I needed proof.

The heat from the water crept through me. Sweat gathered on my brow and beneath my shirt.

The seconds ticked by, and my murmuring echoed in the bathroom. It wasn’t praying, not exactly. It was more like an incantation. Please, please don’t let me be wrong about this. Please don’t.

A chime announced Will’s reply. I’ll talk to Trish.

When? I asked.

Soon, he said. Very soon.

When I got back to school on Monday morning, Will and Tricia still looked very much together.

I refused to let myself hate Tricia, because out of all of us, she was the most innocent party. That didn’t mean it didn’t feel like a deep swallow of acid to watch her lay her head on Will’s shoulder. It was a knife through the heart to see her nuzzling close to him at his locker. She had exactly what I wanted. And she seemed to fit against him almost as perfectly as I did.

A couple of times, I turned around to see Will watching me. Because I didn’t want to believe I was out on a limb by myself, I convinced myself that he didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked like he was starving—he had a wide, wounded expression that I couldn’t forget, even when I tried.

I’d looked at the edge of the cliff, and I’d jumped. But now I felt like I was freefalling, unsure if anyone would be there to catch my fall. And it felt more and more likely that Will wasn’t going to. So he deserved to be miserable, I thought. I tried to comfort myself with a dark sense of victory. Will had never been the guy who pined, who cared, who thought twice about a girl. I had to move on. I had to put myself first, as commanded.

I walked as far away from Will and Tricia as I possibly could. I found a nice, quiet corner down by the wood shop where I could eat my lunch in peace. It was the last place anyone expected to find me. I learned to enjoy the rich cologne of sawdust and mechanical heat. If I never saw Will, I never had to suffer.

In avoiding Will, I avoided Dave, too. And it appeared he was avoiding me right back. There wasn’t even a ghost of our relationship lurking in any of our old spots. We were just gone.