Dreaming of Antigone (7 page)

I watch him walk back down the sidewalk, hands still in his pockets. I don't say anything, and don't try to stop him. I cradle the lens close to me, like it's a newborn kitten, and watch until he disappears from my view down the street and heads back to his house.

CHAPTER 13

 

Mom left a large cooler packed full of nutritious snacks for me in the fridge to take to Natalie's tonight. Carrot sticks and hummus. Granola bars. An apple and a pear. Six bottles of water and a freezer pack to keep them chilled. Mom knows Natalie's mom is a pastry chef and is probably worried that Mrs. Roman plans to feed us nothing but buttercream all weekend.

Not that I would object. Mrs. Roman's French Toast Maple Bacon cupcakes are sinfully good. Natalie's mom is picking us all up from school, so I have to drag the health food rations and my backpack stuffed with overnight essentials from class to class today. I probably won't have any granola bars left by the end of fourth block.

Mom was also nice enough to drop me off at school this morning, so I wouldn't have to cart all this crap on the bus. I still feel like a bag lady. Trista and Hank are kind enough to relieve me of the cooler. They are apparently “on” again, by the way their lips keep bumping into each other.

It's kind of chilly this morning, and the sky is a dark, dolphin-belly gray. Looks like rain again. I hope against hope that tonight's outing to the wilderness will be canceled and we'll spend the night in the Roman family's den instead, watching Netflix movies and eating cupcakes.

“Brrr! Fuck, it's cold!” Trista says, hopping up and down as she rummages through my health food stash. Hank grabs for the hummus, but she smacks his hand. “Not for you. Here, have an apple.”

He takes the apple and runs off.

Trista hands the cooler back to me. “So you're really hanging out with us tonight.”

“Looks like it,” I say.

She looks up at me and grins. “This is going to be awesome. Nat, who do you think we should hook her up with?”

Natalie takes a step back to examine me critically, but I shake my head. “There will be no hooking tonight. Not for me.”

Natalie giggles. “Tris, you know better. Andria is not into hooking.”

“No hooking up, no hooking down, not even hooking sideways?” Trista asks, still grinning.

“Definitely not sideways,” I say, and they both laugh as Alex Hammond walks past us with Erin Young, a sophomore on the soccer team. She waves to Trista and Natalie with a friendly smile.

“Did you see . . . ?” a bewildered Natalie trails off, as Trista's jaw drops inelegantly.

I am too busy examining with mild astonishment how upset this is making me. Erin is sweet and cute, and it makes perfect sense that Alex needs a new girlfriend who is nothing like Iris. Erin is innocent. Erin does not take drugs. Erin is so effing healthy she has a rosy glow in her cheeks. Erin wears frilly skirts when she is not on the soccer field.

He is going to corrupt her. Steal her innocence.

Or, she might be able to save him.

And a wicked little thought floats through my brain. Why can't that be me?

Wait, did I really just think that?

“Since when?” Trista murmurs. “I thought she was dating that boy from Athens Prep.”

Natalie shrugs. “I think her dad has a law office close to the Indigo Dragon.”

That does not mean they have enough in common to start dating.

Ugh. I cannot look like this is upsetting to me.

“And I thought he wasn't over Iris,” Natalie says sadly.

Right. Iris is the reason he shouldn't be dating Erin Young. Not me. He should still be getting over Iris. I slip into ice-queen mode and shrug. “It's not like he and Iris were that serious. They only dated for what, three or four months? It's been longer than that since she died. That's hardly a love to end all loves.”

Natalie and Trista look at each other. Trista is frowning.

“It wasn't like a Princess Leia-Han Solo love,” I add, trying not to sound so ice queenish.

They both laugh as the bell rings. “I guess you're right,” Natalie says, and puts her arm around me. “Were you always such a coldhearted cynic?”

I shrug and let them lead me into chemistry.

Trista turns around as soon as she slides into her seat. “Hey, I'm calling the north corner tonight.”

Natalie pouts. “You always get that corner. No fair.”

The north corner of Rock 'n' Roll Graveyard is the darkest side. There's a bench hidden from the rest of the cemetery by a Spanish moss–covered camellia bush. The perfect spot for making out.

I play with Natalie's red curls that are lying on my desk. “And just who do you think you'd take into the corner with you, young lady?”

She blushes, and her cheeks turn as red as her hair. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe Thomas. He and Sara only went out on two or three dates and she dumped him for Max.”

“Poor Thomas,” I say. “But what about Thing Two?”

“Caleb?” She looks at me, surprised, but I'm not sure why. She went out with him last summer, and they are still friendly. I've seen her gaze at him longingly, wistfully even. “Andria, if you're interested in him, you should go for it!”

“Oh my God, no.”

She tucks a curl behind her ear. “Seriously, he's an octopus, but go. Have fun with him. Tris, you'll have to give up the corner. We're going to hook her up with Caleb.”

“Please, no. Seriously. I thought you still had feelings for him. Besides, didn't he get suspended for that fight yesterday? Did we ever find out what that was all about?”

Tris leans around Natalie. “Hank said he had no idea.”

Natalie takes a deep breath, about to say something more, but the teacher begins to call roll. All during class, Trista and Natalie keep looking at me and giggling. They are making Plans for Andria.

Maybe I will get lucky and be hit by a car before fourth block.

 

There is no poetry on my desk today in algebra. I'm not surprised, and I keep telling myself I shouldn't be disappointed. What if he thought he was writing to Erin all this time? She probably has Mrs. Davis for geometry. He's been writing to the wrong girl all along. Or maybe the wrong girl has been writing him back.

I'm so depressed I eat all of my hummus at lunch. I go to the library before fourth block to tell Verla I can't stay after school today since I have to ride home with Natalie's mom.

I really don't want to see Alex anyway.

Verla is happy to see me. “Thank goodness! I was going to send you a message next period to tell you I have to leave right after school. Can you tell Alex?”

I shake my head. “I usually don't see him until we come here. I have no idea what he has for fourth block.”

“Oh well. I guess I'll get the secretary to tell him. Have a good weekend,” she says.

“You too.”

I should not be depressed over having to miss my library work. That would just be lame. But I am. Even though I have something even more exciting tonight that I should be looking forward to.

But I'm too worried about tonight to be excited. I'm scared I might have a seizure in front of everyone. I'm scared my dog will get lonely tonight without me. I'm scared one of my friends will party too hard and something bad will happen.

I'm scared I'll see Alex tonight and say something stupid.

I'm scared I won't see him.

CHAPTER 14

After school, Natalie's mom picks up Natalie, Trista, and me in a gray Suburban that smells like vanilla cupcakes. She still thinks we are going to the coffeehouse on Broad Street to see our friends' band play. Trista's sister and her boyfriend are going to pick us up at eight.

“I want you guys to be my guinea pigs tonight,” Mrs. Roman says. “I made Cherry Coke float cupcakes. I want to know what you think.”

“What about real food?” Natalie asks. I can't believe her. If my mom were a pastry chef, I'd eat cupcakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“Pizza from Tony's.”

Natalie grins. “Best mom ever.”

The Romans live in one of the newer neighborhoods close to the river. Their two-story house makes me nervous, and my mother's safety rules echo in my head.
Always take the elevator—if you have a seizure you could fall down the stairs and break your neck.
As if I couldn't trip over my feet on the ground and break my neck just as easily. I have never been very graceful or athletic, thanks to Mom refusing to let me play sports or take ballet lessons.

It's really too bad the Romans don't have an elevator.

The garage door opens, and Mrs. Roman pulls in. Natalie hops out and helps me carry my stuff inside. My lunch cooler is already empty. Time for some real food.

“Tris, I thought your goal last week against Academy was amazing,” Mrs. Roman is telling Trista as they follow us into the house.

“Thanks. I wish my parents had been there to see it.” There's bitterness in her voice, but it's mild. Like she's finally resigned herself to the fact that they don't come to her soccer games.

The kitchen smells heavenly. Like basil and oregano and tomato sauce. My stomach is growling. And I don't care if anyone hears it.

“The pizza is in the oven on warm,” Mrs. Roman says. “Go dump your things in Natalie's room and it will be waiting for you when you're ready.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Natalie says, already halfway up the stairs.

I follow her carefully, with Trista right behind me. I try to move to let her pass.

“Are you afraid of heights?” she asks. The staircase is an open metal one, spiraling up the enormous foyer.

“No, just afraid of falling.”

She laughs and runs up ahead of me. Her laugh echoes across the huge cold space.

I take a deep breath and hurry after her. I've been to Natalie's house millions of times, and I'm fine once I'm inside her bedroom. But this staircase always freaks me out.

One step at a time. Focus on the top, Andria. Breathe in, breathe out.

Natalie's head appears at the railing. “Yoooou can doooo eeet!” she says. “Or do you want me to come down and get your things?”

“No, I'm almost there.”

She waits patiently for me to reach the second floor, and takes my backpack. “What are you wearing tonight?”

Trista is already stripped out of her school clothes and rummaging through Natalie's closet. “Where is that green sleeveless thing, Nat? The one you wore to the movies?”

“God, it's too cold for that,” Natalie says. “I'm wearing stockings under my jeans.”

“We're supposed to be going to a concert where there will be dancing. You'll look suspicious if you're dressed for an outing in the snow.”

“And you will get hypothermia if you wear that top.”

Natalie pushes Trista out of the way playfully and disappears into her enormous closet.

“Andria, this is what you should wear tonight. It would go great with your hair.”

She comes out holding up a purple silk peasant blouse with smocked flowers. Iris loved this top and begged Natalie over and over to let her wear it.

“I can't,” I say, even though I want to. It's a dark jewel-toned purple. Amethyst. And she's right, it would be perfect with my black hair. But it's not perfect for me. It would have been perfect for Iris. I turn to my bag and dig through it. “I have a top. It's warm and cozy. . . .”

“And black?” Trista says.

“Of course.” I pull the long-sleeved shirt out and hold it up. It has tiny skull-shaped buttons up the front. Very feminine.

Natalie busts out laughing. “Fine. But you're going to wear some color at some point this year, if it kills me.”

I turn around and freeze, but she's already skipping down the stairs.

Trista looks at me uncomfortably. I shake my head. I have to stop being so sensitive. People joke about death. Because people die every day. And I have to get used to that.

I step into Natalie's closet to change my shirt.

“You know she didn't mean anything by it, right?” Trista asks.

“Yes. I'm okay. I promise.” Still, it surprises me she's that concerned. I guess she really did feel bad after saying those things about Iris the other day. “I'll be down in a second,” I tell her. “You don't have to wait.”

I poke my head out to see that she's already gone. I have to laugh at myself for assuming she'd wait. It's really not all about me. The world is going to go right on spinning, whether I want it to stop or not. Sisters die. Boys fall in love. Friends move on.

I glance at myself in the mirror: a pale, black-haired girl with shadows under her eyes. Great, I really do look like I belong in a graveyard.

I paw through Natalie's makeup bag and find a dark red lipstick. There, now I have some color.

Trista and Natalie both love it. I find them sitting at the bar in the Romans' kitchen, eating pizza. “You look like a vampire!” Trista cackles.

She still insists on wearing the sleeveless top tonight, even though Natalie and I both know she's going to freeze.

Natalie has changed into a pale pink sweater that goes great with her red curls. She has a purple striped scarf hanging around her neck. She slides a plate with a piece of pizza across the bar toward me. “There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Trista texts her sister, to remind her of Natalie's address. “Her boyfriend doesn't get off work until nine, so he's going to meet us there.”

“Is he bringing,” Natalie whispers as she looks around to make sure her mom is not close by, “the rum?”

Trista nods.

I roll my eyes.

Natalie looks from me to Trista with the biggest smile and a tiny squee. “This is going to be so much fun!”

Trista is looking at me as if she does not believe I will have any fun.

Natalie looks at her phone, and her smile gets even bigger. “Tris, you may only have the dark corner for one hour. After ten, it's mine.”

I gesture at her phone with what's left of my slice of pizza. “Thomas?”

“Maybe.” Her cheeks match her sweater. She types something back and puts her phone away.

Trista gets up and takes her empty plate to the sink. “Come on, girls. We need to finish getting ready. Selena will be here in less than an hour.”

The knot of worry in my stomach has been there all day, but now it's growing worse. I worry about my friends. They know not to pressure me to drink or take drugs. Not only because of Iris, but also because they know my seizure meds do not play well with alcohol or other drugs. Especially after the wine cooler incident. But I don't think they know how nervous I get watching them drink. I'm so scared something bad will happen to one of them.