Desires of the Dead
Page 62
When Claire joined them, her face lit up. “Violet! You’re back!” she announced, drawing unwanted attention to Violet.
Violet glanced nervously at Mike, who just noticed she was sitting there. “Hey, welcome back,” he said. “Chelsea said you were really sick.”
Chelsea winked at Violet again, this time a little less subtly.
Violet smiled at her. “I’m better now.”
“Good,” Chelsea declared, brightening. “Then you won’t be ditching us this weekend.”
Violet stared at her blankly.
“This weekend . . .” Chelsea prompted. “The cabin. We’re all still going, right?” She smiled dazzlingly up at Mike, who seemed powerless to resist her.
He grinned back. “Of course.”
This weekend! God, is it really so soon? That’s, what, just two days from today?
Violet looked to Jay for help. “I don’t know . . .” she wavered. “I’m not sure I should.” She kept thinking about Mike and his family. About spending a weekend up there, in a small, snowbound cabin in the mountains with them. With her—Megan. Violet just didn’t think she could do it.
As usual, Jay understood Violet’s reluctance. “Maybe Violet’s right. She’s just getting better. She should probably take it easy this weekend.”
“I’m still going,” Claire interjected, in case Chelsea was taking a head count.
Chelsea glanced impatiently at Claire and then ignored her. “Oh, come on!” Chelsea complained to Violet. “Seriously? We had it all planned. You can’t bail on us now. You have to come. Please, Vi, I never ask for anything.”
“Umm, yeah, you do,” Violet pointed out.
Chelsea didn’t bother arguing. “Okay, yeah, but come on. This is important.” She was whining now, pleading with Violet. And then she turned on Jay. “You’re not thinking of crapping out too, are you?” She glared at him.
“Dude, no!” Mike practically shouted, finally realizing the implication of Violet staying home. It meant losing Jay for the weekend too. “You guys gotta come. My dad’ll hardly be around, so we’ll pretty much have the place to ourselves.”
Jay shook his head, and even though she knew he’d been looking forward to the trip, Violet heard him say, “Sorry, man, I don’t want her to get sick again.” He squeezed her hand beneath the table.
Violet suddenly felt guilty. Obviously their plans were hinging on her. If she didn’t go, Mike would be stuck up there with a group of girls and his dad. Besides, Chelsea would never forgive her for such a flagrant friend foul.
But an entire weekend with Megan.
Who did nothing, Violet reminded herself again. And who knew nothing about what Violet had suspected.
There really wasn’t a good reason not to go.
She tilted her head up to Jay, ignoring the daggerlike glares being shot at her by Chelsea—and probably by Mike too.
“You want to go, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows, knowing that the others could hear.
Jay grinned back at her, leaning closer, but not bothering to keep his voice down either. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for, Vi. I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t let Chels bully you.”
“I can hear you,” Chelsea complained.
Jay chuckled but never looked away from Violet. “Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk later?”
She smiled back at him. How did she get so lucky?
In the background, she heard Chelsea gloating. “They’re going. They’re totally going.”
Envy
She stood near the edge of the cafeteria, hiding. Watching.
She hated the way Mike and his friends laughed, the way he seemed to fit seamlessly into their group.
She wanted that too. To belong somewhere. Anywhere.
She’d thought maybe it would be different here. That this town, this school, might be special. That this time she would have real friends.
It was foolish, she knew that now, a child’s dream. And she wasn’t a child. She hadn’t been for a long time.
She fingered the hall pass in her hand, rubbing the paper between her thumb and forefinger, willing it to give her the strength she didn’t seem to possess on her own. She wanted to reach out to someone, to ask for help, but apparently she just wasn’t brave enough.
How many times would she request the office pass, only to change her mind before getting there? How many times could one person disappoint herself?
She stared enviously at Mike, keeping close to the pillar that hid her from view.
He didn’t belong either; he just didn’t realize it. He was no better than she was—worse, in fact. He was her brother; he was supposed to protect her, to look out for her. And yet he was oblivious to her suffering.
He looked up then, and Megan drew back, slipping all the way around the column so he couldn’t see her hiding there. Her hand tightened into a ball around the scrap of paper.
Her heart beat too fast as she waited. She didn’t want him to notice her; she didn’t want to face him while she was feeling like this.
Despair infected her.
She had friends too. Maybe not the kind of friends she’d dreamed of, but there were people she hung out with so that she didn’t stand out as some sort of freak.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was going to be different here.
On that first day, she’d had hope.
She was going to try; she was going to reach out, to let someone in. And she had, more than ever before, when she’d met him. . . .
Violet glanced nervously at Mike, who just noticed she was sitting there. “Hey, welcome back,” he said. “Chelsea said you were really sick.”
Chelsea winked at Violet again, this time a little less subtly.
Violet smiled at her. “I’m better now.”
“Good,” Chelsea declared, brightening. “Then you won’t be ditching us this weekend.”
Violet stared at her blankly.
“This weekend . . .” Chelsea prompted. “The cabin. We’re all still going, right?” She smiled dazzlingly up at Mike, who seemed powerless to resist her.
He grinned back. “Of course.”
This weekend! God, is it really so soon? That’s, what, just two days from today?
Violet looked to Jay for help. “I don’t know . . .” she wavered. “I’m not sure I should.” She kept thinking about Mike and his family. About spending a weekend up there, in a small, snowbound cabin in the mountains with them. With her—Megan. Violet just didn’t think she could do it.
As usual, Jay understood Violet’s reluctance. “Maybe Violet’s right. She’s just getting better. She should probably take it easy this weekend.”
“I’m still going,” Claire interjected, in case Chelsea was taking a head count.
Chelsea glanced impatiently at Claire and then ignored her. “Oh, come on!” Chelsea complained to Violet. “Seriously? We had it all planned. You can’t bail on us now. You have to come. Please, Vi, I never ask for anything.”
“Umm, yeah, you do,” Violet pointed out.
Chelsea didn’t bother arguing. “Okay, yeah, but come on. This is important.” She was whining now, pleading with Violet. And then she turned on Jay. “You’re not thinking of crapping out too, are you?” She glared at him.
“Dude, no!” Mike practically shouted, finally realizing the implication of Violet staying home. It meant losing Jay for the weekend too. “You guys gotta come. My dad’ll hardly be around, so we’ll pretty much have the place to ourselves.”
Jay shook his head, and even though she knew he’d been looking forward to the trip, Violet heard him say, “Sorry, man, I don’t want her to get sick again.” He squeezed her hand beneath the table.
Violet suddenly felt guilty. Obviously their plans were hinging on her. If she didn’t go, Mike would be stuck up there with a group of girls and his dad. Besides, Chelsea would never forgive her for such a flagrant friend foul.
But an entire weekend with Megan.
Who did nothing, Violet reminded herself again. And who knew nothing about what Violet had suspected.
There really wasn’t a good reason not to go.
She tilted her head up to Jay, ignoring the daggerlike glares being shot at her by Chelsea—and probably by Mike too.
“You want to go, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows, knowing that the others could hear.
Jay grinned back at her, leaning closer, but not bothering to keep his voice down either. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for, Vi. I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t let Chels bully you.”
“I can hear you,” Chelsea complained.
Jay chuckled but never looked away from Violet. “Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk later?”
She smiled back at him. How did she get so lucky?
In the background, she heard Chelsea gloating. “They’re going. They’re totally going.”
Envy
She stood near the edge of the cafeteria, hiding. Watching.
She hated the way Mike and his friends laughed, the way he seemed to fit seamlessly into their group.
She wanted that too. To belong somewhere. Anywhere.
She’d thought maybe it would be different here. That this town, this school, might be special. That this time she would have real friends.
It was foolish, she knew that now, a child’s dream. And she wasn’t a child. She hadn’t been for a long time.
She fingered the hall pass in her hand, rubbing the paper between her thumb and forefinger, willing it to give her the strength she didn’t seem to possess on her own. She wanted to reach out to someone, to ask for help, but apparently she just wasn’t brave enough.
How many times would she request the office pass, only to change her mind before getting there? How many times could one person disappoint herself?
She stared enviously at Mike, keeping close to the pillar that hid her from view.
He didn’t belong either; he just didn’t realize it. He was no better than she was—worse, in fact. He was her brother; he was supposed to protect her, to look out for her. And yet he was oblivious to her suffering.
He looked up then, and Megan drew back, slipping all the way around the column so he couldn’t see her hiding there. Her hand tightened into a ball around the scrap of paper.
Her heart beat too fast as she waited. She didn’t want him to notice her; she didn’t want to face him while she was feeling like this.
Despair infected her.
She had friends too. Maybe not the kind of friends she’d dreamed of, but there were people she hung out with so that she didn’t stand out as some sort of freak.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was going to be different here.
On that first day, she’d had hope.
She was going to try; she was going to reach out, to let someone in. And she had, more than ever before, when she’d met him. . . .
