Page 115 of Fade into You

It takes me ten tries, but I get my last clove cigarette lit.

There’s no sound anywhere except the hissing of my lungs sucking in the smoke and pushing it back out again.

Time is running out on college applications and I don’t have any plans and I honestly don’t even really care.

No word from Kayla since last week, after our friendship imploded. But that’s freed up space for my brain to hop back on the Jessa train with a vengeance. Especially tonight. Because not too long ago I imagined I’d finally have someone to kiss at midnight, and even though I’m still so mad at her, it’s New Year’s Eve, and if the world is ending in seven hours, I want to hear her voice. Feel her touch. Hell, even if the world isn’t ending, that’s what I want.

I lie down on the ground and make snow angels all by myself.

I’m pretty sure I’m clinically depressed.

I hear the screech of the back door. I stop angeling, but I bring the clove to my mouth again and inhale deeply.

“Are you friggin’ getting high out here?” Liv says.

I tip my head back and look at her, upside down, standing on the top step in slippers, her arms wrapped around her body, covered only by a midriff sweater, which strikes me as the most pointless article of clothing to ever be designed.

I raise the black cigarette in the air. “It’s a Djarum. And haven’t you been practicing how to ignore me for the past eight years? Can’t you just, like, do that now?”

“You need to pull your shit together, Bird.”

“Why, ’cause I’m embarrassing you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I feel sorry for you, then… embarrassing that easily. Must be tough to be you, Liv.”

“Such a bitch,” she mutters to herself as she goes inside and slams the door behind her.

Something in my head slams closed too, or maybe it’s finallycracking open. I jump to my feet and don’t even savor the last drag off my very last clove; I just let it slip from my fingers and fall into the snow.

I follow after her and I don’t even take my coat or boots off. I catch up to her in the living room, where Daniel and my mom are sitting with Bailey and the twins, watching TV.

“Birdie, come on—you’re tracking snow in,” my mom says.

I shove past Liv and she shrieks.

“Hey!” Daniel almost yells… as close as he comes to yelling, anyway.

I’m pounding up the stairs and I push the door to our room open as hard as I can, letting it smash into the wall. My hands are aching todosomething. They could tear down her pictures and posters. But no. That’s not enough.

My eyes focus on the stupid silver duct tape.

She walks into the room behind me just in time to witness me pulling that line up; the ripping sound it makes as it tears away from the carpet is more satisfying than any words I could think to say to her right now.

I gather the tape in a giant gross sticky ball and throw it at her face.

“Ahh! What is wrong with you?” she shouts, deflecting the duct-tape ball in what I’m sure is a volleyball move she’s perfected.

And now Mom and Daniel are calling up the stairs. “What’s going on? Girls?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, Liv!” I shout. “That’s the point—nothing is wrong with me!”

I shove past her again, make my feet loud on the stairs. I’mheaded for the door. But Mom’s following, saying, “Hold on, what is the problem?”

Liv is halfway down the stairs and I think she’s going to pile on, but she just sits down on a step and watches.

“Hey,” Daniel says, grabbing my arm, albeit gently. “Where do you think you’re going? Your mother’s talking to you.”