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Authors: Tiffany Schmidt

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BOOK: Send Me a Sign
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“A chance? Is that what you call it when you cancel all my dates and hire Russo to play some messed-up version of bodyguard? I’m trying here—are you?”

Ryan’s hand slipped off me and he slumped into a kitchen chair. “I give up. You’ve already made up your mind; it doesn’t matter what I do.”

The resignation in his voice made my stomach clench. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees so I wouldn’t go wrap them around him. I had to remind myself: he’d disappointed me. He didn’t want me.

“Why are you doing this? Is the chase that fun? What do you think’s going to happen if I say yes?”

“Fun? Do I look like I’m having fun?” His laughter cut through me. “If I wanted a girl who’d get naked as soon as I winked at her, I’d go for Lauren or Hil. I want you. I thought you’d figured that out by now.”

“Hil? Are you crazy? She’d rip your balls off before she’d let them near her.”

Ryan shrugged and climbed out of his chair to sit across from me with his back against the refrigerator. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but who cares—that’s not the point. You’re mad about something.”

“Well, yeah.” I tapped my head self-consciously.

“Because of how I reacted about your hair? What’d I do wrong? It looks good, by the way. Way better than I expected.”

Now that he said it, I felt stupid. Especially since he was looking at me with unguarded appreciation. “‘Bald? Shit!’ wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.”

“You surprised me. I’m no good with stuff like that. I’m trying, but I’m no good with it. You’ve got to give me some
warning.” He stretched and touched my wig with a cautious finger. “I can’t even tell. It looks like your hair and even feels real.”

“It is my hair. It’s just no longer attached.” I wanted to lean into his palm or tuck my head under his chin, but didn’t know how he’d react, or how the wig would. Or if I should even be thinking things like that.

“Will you take it off? Is that a weird thing to ask? I bet you’re still beautiful without hair.”

I stiffened. That I hadn’t expected. The whole point of the wig was so no one would see me bald. And didn’t Ryan only want a glossy, perfect version of me?

My fingers were clumsy as I pulled it off. I could feel my shoulders creeping up toward my ears and I kept my eyes glued to the bottom of Ryan’s sneaker.

“Wow. I was right.” I looked up. He still had that bedroom smile on. “You know that supersexy model with the shaved head, Syrena something? She’s got nothing on you.”

My exhale sounded like a sob and he crept over and put his arms around me, not at all tentative as he pressed his cheek against my head. “Sorry I hurt you yesterday.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you today.” I squeezed him tight and felt the same relief in his arms, his back muscles tensing as he pulled me closer. He reached down and lifted my chin, gently backing me up against the wall, as he held me in place with kisses and caresses.

It was hours before Ryan left—not until Mom came in from gardening and invited him to stay for dinner. He’d learned his lesson last time and politely declined.

I went upstairs to fix my wig and to check my phone. I still hadn’t heard from Lauren. I called and left her another voice mail, then called Gyver.

I could tell he was pissed from his “hello,” but I couldn’t tell how angry until he followed up with, “Are you done playing games with Ryan? Should I set up Monopoly for us now?”

“Don’t be a jerk. I owed him a chance to explain.”

“Oh. You owed
him
? Got it. Bye, Mia.”

I redialed him, but got his voicemail. Left my apology after the beep. And I was left with a silent phone that didn’t ring again that night, no matter how many texts I sent to Lauren.

Chapter 31

I wanted to strategize my Big Reveal, but didn’t stress too much about absentee Lauren. I figured she was busy cleaning up from Friday’s party, hung over from Saturday, had dropped her phone in the hot tub again, or was totally busted and grounded. Before bed I texted her to meet me in the foyer Monday before school.

She did, with her face mottled with angry pink splotches that clashed with her hair.

But I didn’t notice this right away, not until after she responded to my, “I was thinking I’d tell them after practice. We could all go to Iggy’s. A public place would help control Ally’s hysterics, right?”

“Whatever.” The word was razor sharp and slashed through my good mood.

“What the hell, Lauren?”

“No!” She pointed a finger at me. “What the hell, Mia? Where were you Friday night?”

“After the game? I was tired, I went home.” I was beginning to guess how Ryan had felt yesterday in my kitchen; I had no clue where this anger was coming from.

“Not too tired to hang out with Ryan,” she accused.

“Please, he stayed for less than an hour. What’s this about? Your party?”

“How many boring afternoons have I spent”—she lowered her voice to a hushed snarl—“at the hospital? Nice of you to let me know you weren’t coming. Seems you had time to tell Hil you wouldn’t be there, but you couldn’t find two seconds to tell me.” Lauren wasn’t usually aggressive, but she kept stepping closer, one finger pointed at me and the rest of her hand clamped in a fist.

I stepped backward, but didn’t back down. “I didn’t know it was an RSVP event.”

“It’s always great fun when you throw someone a Welcome Back party and she doesn’t bother coming.” Her hand was shaking. She hid it by reaching up and twirling a curl around her finger.

“What?” I swallowed and felt my aggravation soften to guilt. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s called ‘a surprise.’”

“Laur, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would’ve told you.” I wanted to give her a hug or coax her fingers out of her hair. She was tugging so hard it looked like she was cutting off circulation, and she was making it frizz.

“Whatever. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” One last twirl and she wrenched her hand free, turned around, and stomped off to class.

“Laur. Lauren. Wait!” But she didn’t wait and the late bell rang. I hurried to my locker, grabbed my books, and attempted to slam the door, but a notebook was in the way. My locker mirror slipped out and clattered on the floor. I kicked the notebook in and the door shut. Shoved the mirror inside the cover of a textbook, too overwhelmed and late to reopen my lock. Then I scrambled to French class feeling like I’d had a serving of battery acid and betrayal for breakfast.

During calc I tried to get Gyver’s attention, finally poking him with my eraser when he refused to notice my waving pencil or the note I dropped on his desk. He gave me an expressionless nod, then turned back to his problem set with the note unread. Frowning, I opened my calc book and my mirror was lying there. It hadn’t broken—it was safety plastic, not glass—but the bottom corner was chipped. What punishment did that earn me: seven days of bad luck, seven minutes?

Gyver would be annoyed if he knew my thoughts, and I wished he’d scold me … because to do so, he’d have to acknowledge me. I spent the rest of the period trying to catch his eye and apologize, but he didn’t look at me once. When he left class
without a good-bye, I glanced from his empty desk to the discarded note to my chipped mirror and felt lost.

Lauren hadn’t gotten over it by lunch. And I’d apologized. Three times.

“Stop sulking, Lauren, it makes you look five. She said she was sorry, what do you want, blood?” Hil sipped her Diet Coke and rolled her eyes. She was hyper today, even a little bubbly, like a caffeinated Ally clone. It made me nervous.

Even if I hadn’t decided the Big Reveal needed to wait until after Lauren removed the big stick from her butt, I’d still be uneasy around a Hil who greeted me with a hug and babbled, “Your hair looks cute. What’d you do different? We missed you at Lauren’s and Bill’s this weekend—you’re turning into quite the nerdling homebody. I was telling Ryan on Saturday that we may need to do an intervention.” She slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into another hug.

Ally choked on a bite of apple and studied the table. I selfconsciously touched my wig. Lauren gasped and practically stood up. “Are you kidding me, Hil? I don’t believe you! Like you can talk—have you told your best friend what you tried to do with her boyfriend Saturday night?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” My answer was automatic, but then I paused and processed the words, pulling away from Hil to ask, “Wait. What?”

Ally packed her lunch away and looked like she wanted to
crawl under the table. Lauren’s face was blotchy-mad again. Hil’s was blank. The same blank it’d been right after her parents’ divorce and Keith’s breakup. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry. Lauren’s just pissy and trying to make us fight too.”

“Nothing happened, but only because he rejected your ass,” Lauren spat back.

I didn’t need to hear any more. I shoved my uneaten lunch in my bag and stood, crossing the cafeteria with my head held high but legs that felt like they might collapse.

“Hey, you.” Ryan gave me a questioning look when I sat down next to him.

“Hil,” I muttered.

He nodded and opened his mouth to say something else, but looked at Chris and changed his mind. He bumped my knee with his. “We’ll talk later.”

I gave him a sincere smile, then turned to the rest of the table with a cheerleading grin. “You guys don’t mind if I crash your table, right?”

Lauren apologized via text while I was in English and I replied with my own Really sorry. Neither of us mentioned leukemia, Hil, or telling.

But we weren’t fine yet. I had to go to her locker at the end of the day for a hug. In all of our previous fights, she’d waited at mine.

The hug was brief, like she might break me or catch cancer.

“Ryan told me about your hair. It looks good. Can’t tell.” These words were an afterthought, as she walked away, throwing a “See you at practice” back in my direction.

I had no intention of attending practice, but she didn’t wait long enough to hear my answer. Things were in flux. I’d known that all my absences, lies, and limitations would change our group dynamics, but I’d never stopped to consider
how
. My spot in the high school pyramid was slipping. I was losing traction and Lauren was gaining it. I should care—I should be storming down to the gym and confronting Hil, getting an apology from her and a pledge to throw me another party from Lauren. Resetting the power balance and reestablishing my place. But I didn’t.

BOOK: Send Me a Sign
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