Page 42 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

Now that I don’t feel like a zombie anymore, it feels a bit weird being in Penny’s bed. With the wooden railings and everything, it’s not one you can just casually be sitting on. You’re either completely in bed or you’re not. And I choose not.

So, I get out and sit on the floor with my back against the radiator. I’m not sure if Penny’s coming to get me so we can make pancakes together, or if she’s making them herself and bringing them back here, so I open my laptop in case it’s the latter.

There aren’t any new photos or threads about me on ArtemisiaCast, so I click off and find Closer’s website instead.

The big daffodils greet me like a golden sunrise, with hints of amber that aren’t usually there since my screen’s still in night mode.

I find the whole display oddly comforting these days, despite how minimal it is.

I guess it’s the closest thing I’ve got to seeing the person’s profile picture.

When I first messaged, I got to pick a generic photo to be associated with too, which naturally I now associate with myself as well.

I picked the beach ball as it seemed like the most inconspicuous option at the time.

But now I’m thinking about it, maybe a lot of people picked that for the exact same reason.

I ruled out anything that linked even remotely to Biology and acting immediately.

Now, I click Send a Message like I always do, and write an update, wondering if she has hundreds of inconspicuous beach balls, or just the one. Distinguishing me from everyone else in a visual way. And I wonder if she even needs a visual reminder.

Reading this morning’s message back, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s the happiest one I’ve written so far, and it feels good to have some positive things to say. As I press Send, I actually wonder whether it’ll be my last.

At times, the woods felt so familiar I thought they’d become my new home, but now as I look at my situation, I can see how far I’ve actually come.

And even though I’m not fully in the clear yet, I am out of the thick of it.

And I think I can take it on my own from here.

Be my own biggest cheerleader like I have been all along, just like she said.

I’m still thinking about how bittersweet that is when Penny’s phone flashes next to me. I look over without thinking and before I can draw my eyes away, I’ve read some of the words on the screen.

CTY: New message.

What? I know I shouldn’t, but I look at it again before the screen turns off. It’s an email notification. I pick up her phone, making the screen light up again. I need to make sure I read that right. And there it is. Clear as day. Closer Than Yesterday. What the actual fuck?

My mind simultaneously flips back to when I met Penny at the student support building and when I noted down Closer’s details from the poster just minutes before. I’m a fucking idiot. And so is she.

The building is always so busy – with hundreds of students passing through every day, so even though the chance of Penny being Closer was small, it was never zero. So why the hell did I not realise it was a possibility? And more importantly, why didn’t she?

The answer slams through me in the very same breath, making my heart fall through my stomach. Penny’s not this stupid. That’s a fact. She’s proven it so many times, in so many ways. She’s only a notch away from being a genius as far as I’m concerned. There’s no way she doesn’t already know. Fuck.

I log back into my account and read back through all our messages.

It’s impossible to tell if it sounds like her through this, without any expressions or tone of voice.

I’d actually always read her messages in a voice similar to my mum’s – which I now realise doesn’t make any sense since I knew the poster about CTY on the noticeboard was probably made by a student.

I scroll through the messages again, this time to see how much stuff I told her, even though I already know it’s far more than I’m comfortable with.

Of course it is. I would’ve said it to her face all along if I wanted to.

And she knows that. Pfft. So much for being anonymous.

And for not wanting anyone to know. And as I literally said myself – to her – for putting this all behind me before anyone finds out.

Forget taking the wheel, Jesus would have to take the whole fucking car before I could feel better about this.

The noise of the latch unlocking comes a few seconds before the door itself opens, as Penny puts her key on the keypad outside. She’s holding a tray with a stack of pancakes on one side and various toppings on the other.

‘You’re Closer?’ I say, before she has time to sit down.

‘Closer to what?’ she says, setting the tray on the desk.

I pick up her phone and wait for her to face me again. ‘It’s your website,’ I say, fighting to keep a level head.

‘Oh,’ she says. The panic in her voice tells me all I need to know. I go to the door and shove my feet into my Air Forces.

‘Wait, CJ, I can explain,’ she says, her voice strained and weak.

‘Did you know?’

She stares at me, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she finally answers.

‘Yes, but I—’

I can’t even explain how this feels. To find out the two people you’ve been talking to are actually one. Have been acting as one. And letting me tell them things they knew I didn’t want anyone to know.

And there I was, not only trusting her, but falling for her. Even though I wouldn’t admit it. Even to myself.

I tried so hard not to get close to anyone for this exact reason.

I didn’t want any of my personal information getting out to anyone – knowing all too well how easily something as innocent as visiting a bloody cat shelter can be warped into something it’s not.

Warping people’s perceptions of the person right along with it.

So, to find out that both of the exceptions to the rule – Penny and Closer – are not who I thought they were, is more than I can take. One would have been hard enough, but turns out I don’t know either of them.

But I do know myself. And I know I’ll never trust her again after this, which means my second biggest fear of losing another person is coming true as well.

And no amount of wishing things were different can take back what she did.

Because as she said herself, she knew. And that, more than anything, is something I can’t forgive.

Knowing all I know now, I thank my lucky stars I never fully let my guard down. But she doesn’t know that. Everything I shared with her could’ve been the innermost depths of my soul for all she knew.

It wasn’t. But it also wasn’t miles off.

I pull my gaze back into focus. They should call it seeing black – or blank – rather than seeing red, as I couldn’t even process how she looked until a few seconds ago.

Now it’s obvious that she doesn’t look well, and I’m worried I’m going to make her worse, but I can’t be the one to comfort her right now. Not after this.

‘I think we both need some space,’ I say, wrenching the door open.

She doesn’t get up behind me, and I can’t tell if she’s made that choice herself or if her body’s made it for her. And it bugs me that I can’t tell. Before today, I thought I knew her pretty well. So much for that.

In a parallel universe, I slam the door on my way out and don’t look back. But in this one, I try knocking on Amy’s door to let her know Penny might need help. She doesn’t answer. Neither does Ro. But she was sitting down at least when I left her. So that will have to do.

Though I can still see her pale face staring back at me, the image burning into my retinas like the sun – no, like something darker. Like a solar eclipse.