Page 22 of Electricity
L acey did not respond while I was playing Juicejam, nor had she responded by the time I’d woken up. I turned the stupid game on and squashed a row of three apples in frustration, before going to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth.
I had Allie out the door and was heading to the bus stop myself when Sarah pulled up.
“Jessie!” she shouted, waving out her window like a prom queen. Her make-up was perfect and her hair fell down in effortless waves and I felt the sharp familiar pain of loving her and envying her both at once.
I walked over to her rolled down window with a grin. “What’re you doing here?”
“Coming to rescue you from the bus.” She reached for her door and I heard the passenger side unlock. “Get in.”
I got into her car without question. “What, Ryan’s sick today?”
She feigned exasperation. “I remember who my friends are, Jessie.”
“So it’s not all about him, and how awesome he is, and how great he is on the team?” I teased, doing my best imitation of her voice.
“I don’t sound like that --” she protested, and then looking at me, “Okay, maybe sometimes I do.”
“It used to be worse. You’ve gotten better. So there’s that.”
She laughed. She had the kind of laugh that people wanted to laugh with, and so I did, rocking back into the seat and rolling down the window a little.
It was easy to remember a hundred different times, us driving along together, just like this—and pictures from my phone flashed in my mind so clearly they felt real.
“Think Lacey will be there today?” Sarah asked.
The memories instantly faded. “Don’t know.” If she wasn’t, was it my fault?
“Jessica—can I be honest with you?” Her voice was somber—Sarah was hardly ever serious. I turned in my seat ready to hang on her every word.
“Of course,” I said, and meant it, from the bottom of my heart.
“I think we need to break up with her.”
“Wait—what? Why?”
“Hear me out,” she said. “I’m not a bitch. It’s just that—we’ve been growing apart recently.”
“Because you’re always hanging out with Ryan,” I sputtered.
“It started before that, Jessica. We’re just more mature than she is.
We’ve lived more life, you know? She just acts so young.
And her mom’s embarrassing, and the whole church thing—I’m not surprised she blew that invite.
What was I even thinking, inviting her?” She looked over her shoulder at me, as if I had answers.
And an image of the three of us in back seat of this self-same car came to mind.
“Remember the time your mom took us to the mall and dropped us off and you ‘accidentally’ shoplifted those leggings? And you just started crying because you knew your mom was going to kill you, but Lacey talked the manager out of calling her?”
She opened up her mouth then closed it, leaving words unsaid.
“That’s why. She may not be cool, but she’s good in tight situations. Legging situations, too, if you know what I mean.”
Sarah refused to laugh at my dumb joke. “She’s been ignoring all of my texts, Jessie,” she said, and I realized this was the actual crime. “So it’s like she wants me to dump her.”
Because when cornered, what assumed dumpee wouldn’t want to pre-dump back? “Oh, Sarah, that’s not true—I’m sure she’s just embarrassed is all.”
“She could tell me that. We could talk, maybe, like grown-ups.”
“Maybe she wants to talk in person?” I said, praying that I wasn’t digging Lacey a pit—and all of this was assuming she’d ever forgive me for consorting with Liam yesterday.
“If she never tells me that, how the fuck am I supposed to know?”
I waved my hands between us in surrender. “I’ll talk to her. Just—don’t give up on her yet, okay? Please?”
Sarah harrumphed. “Yeah, fine, whatever. As long as she doesn’t do anything else dumb.”
I laughed nervously, hoping to defuse the tension. “I think we both know I’m way more likely to do something dumb than she is.”
I lurked by our lockers when I could that day.
Some enterprising cheerleader had put up a Fear Bison Power!
poster up above the lockers on the opposite wall, where I’d never seen one before, and I wanted to yank it down.
Lacey didn’t show. I wondered what her mother was telling the school, if she had a doctor’s note, and what, if anything, anyone else knew.
That feeling of otherness kept pulsing in me. I felt alone because I was alone, physically, but it was more than that, because there was this whole other world happening that only I could see.
“Hey,” said someone familiar from a great height, in between classes, startling me.
I looked up. It was Darius. “Hey.”
“How’s your day going?”
“I can use my phone now, so there’s that.”
“Still have my number?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. If you ever need to practice again?—”
“Yeah—I mean, I might, you know? It could be useful.” I tried to sound like I didn’t care, even though I did, while searching his expression and bearing for equal and opposite signs of caring-not-caring.
“Precisely,” he said, giving nothing away.
A warning bell rang and I bowed out first, walking away with a strange tickling inside me, like the twitch of a rabbit’s nose.