Take My Advice

by Tristi Pinkston

  I stood up. “And I hope you get better soon.”

  As I walked toward the door, I heard him call out. “Jill, wait.”

  I turned, and he beckoned with his hand. I sat down again, not wanting to, but figuring I should listen to whatever he had to say. Unless it was rude. I wasn’t going to do rude.

  “You don’t have to quit the paper,” he said. “You’re good at what you do.”

  “No, I’m not. I ruin lives. Look at you—you’re the perfect example.” I realized what I’d said and started to blush. “Um, I’m not saying that your life is ruined. You’ve got all kinds of great stuff going for you. I’m just saying that I made things more complicated. You know, with that whole investigating-your-dad thing. And—”

  “Jill, wait.” His voice sounded tired, and I decided I should shut up and listen so he wouldn’t strain himself trying to be heard over my rambling. “You were right about that. About everything.”

  “What?” So one day he’s telling me I’m the most awful person in the world, and the next, I’m right? How did that happen?

  “I didn’t have appendicitis.”

  I blinked. “So . . . they just took out your appendix for no reason because they do that all the time?”

  “No, they had to take it out.” Bruce rubbed one of his eyes. “My dad was pretty steamed that he was being investigated, and the other day, he lost it and beat the crap out of me. Mostly my stomach. They said there was some internal bleeding or something going on, and they had to operate and take out my appendix because it was pretty damaged. So, yeah. He’s in jail now.”

  A chill raced down my arms, and I didn’t know what to say. I felt awful—absolutely awful. I had never been hit in my life. Not even a slap. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to get beaten so badly that you ended up having your appendix out. “I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I really am. I didn’t realize something like that would happen.” I had believed that everything would be all right once the authorities had been notified, but without proof, they couldn’t do a lot, and now this . . .

  “You did the right thing when you told Ms. Young. I needed help and you were trying to give it to me, and I shouldn’t have blackmailed you. So I’m calling off the bet. It’s not fair—it never was fair—and you don’t have to do it anymore.” He tried to sit up a little, but winced and gave up.

  “I already said I would. I made a promise. And maybe . . . maybe I’m learning a lot. Things I needed to know.”

  I was saved from saying anything else that would embarrass me when Bruce’s mother stepped back in the room, carrying a Sprite and a wrapped sandwich.

  “I should go,” I said, standing up. “You can have your chair back.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” she protested, but I shook my head.

  “No, that’s okay. See you, Bruce.”

  “See ya.” He paused. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Yeah.”

  Dylan was waiting right where I left him, and he followed me out to the parking lot without saying anything. He didn’t put the keys in the ignition right away, but sat there and waited for me to speak. I guess he knew I would eventually.

  “Bruce’s dad beat him up and ruined his appendix,” I said after a long moment of trying to sort through my thoughts. I leaned my head back against the seat. “Turns out, he’s grateful I tried to save him. But I can’t save him. I can’t save anybody. I’ve been trying my whole life, and I can’t save one single person. Not Bruce, not my mom, not my dad, and not myself.” I wasn’t making sense to anyone but me.

  The tears rolled down my cheeks faster and faster and my breathing became more ragged until I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed, coughing and dragging in air. Dylan patted my back until I calmed down and then handed me some napkins from the glove compartment. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, not sure what the point was—I was still crying and would just have to wipe and blow again.

  Dylan started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. I had no idea where we were going until he steered the car into the drive-through lane of one of my favorite restaurants. Without asking, he knew what I wanted, and he ordered a bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a chocolate shake. I almost objected, but then I realized I was starving and I needed some massive doses of comfort food.

  We got our order and stayed in the car to eat. I downed probably half my burger before Dylan spoke.

  “You said you’ve been trying to save people your whole life. What did you mean?”

  “It’s stupid. It’s really, really stupid.”

  “No, tell me.”

  I chewed and swallowed an onion ring. “So, my parents started fighting when I was really little.” I told him the revelation I’d had that afternoon, that I’d been trying to hold my family together single-handedly ever since. “And now I give people advice because I want them to be happy. I can’t fix my own life, so I might as well fix theirs. Like I’m some kind of expert on being happy, right?”

  Dylan took a bite of his fish fillet sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “No one had to take your advice, Jill. They still had a choice.”

  “A lot of them wrote in because they didn’t have any better ideas, and my advice at least gave them a direction to go. My crappy, crappy advice.”

  “You’re not ready to reason this through yet, are you?”

  “No.” I was still in wallow mode.

  “Okay then, eat your food. And feel sorry for yourself. And berate yourself and beat yourself up. And then we’ll reason it through. You have half an hour.”

  Wow. A whole half an hour. Generous.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I don’t know if Dylan was watching the clock or what, but sure enough, after about thirty minutes had gone by, he turned to me. “Better?”

  “I guess.” I could feel my arteries hardening from all the cholesterol I’d just eaten, but I didn’t really care. They probably weren’t very important arteries anyway.

  Dylan’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Amanda’s freaking out,” he said. “She says she can’t find you.”

  “Yeah, I turned off my ringer.” That probably wasn’t much better than forgetting my phone, but hey, at least I had it on me this time, right?

  “Mind if I text her back and let her know you’re okay? She’s probably making herself sick worrying about you.”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  Dylan punched out a quick message and then slid his phone back into his pocket. “Ready to talk?”

  “Any chance of getting out of it?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Fine.”

  Neither of us spoke for a minute.

  “I thought you could go first,” Dylan said.

  I sighed and turned to face him. “I really don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve had slam after slam today, and I just need time to figure out my whole entire existence.”

  “You don’t need to have all the answers right now, Jill. I just want to know that you’re going to be okay. I mean, at least okay enough to where I can take you home and not be freaked out about you all night long.”

  I twisted my straw wrapper between my fingers. “I’m not going to run away and join the circus or do anything else stupid, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just . . . It’s like coming face-to-face with the shadow you’ve been running from your whole life and really looking at it and realizing that you had it all wrong. Do you know what I mean? It’s scary, but it’s liberating, and . . .” I sighed. “I’m not making any sense. I’m just worn out. Will you please take me home, and I’ll go right to bed and you won’t have to worry about me at all?”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Dylan turned the car toward my house, and we drove in silence for a few minutes. “I bet Amanda was glad to hear from you,” I said.

  “Yeah, she was pretty worried about you. Hopefully she’s calmed down by now.”

  That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but
I figured now was not the time to bring up his crush on my best friend. He might have the idea that we were still supposed to be concentrating on me or something.

  I thought he was taking me home, but a moment later, he turned the car left instead of right. “Where are we going?”

  “We’ve got a stop to make.”

  The next thing I knew, we were pulling up at Amanda’s.

  “I don’t think—”

  He turned to me. “Whether or not you want to believe it, there are people in the world who care about you, and Amanda’s one of them. Now get up those steps and show her you’re okay.”

  The fierceness in his gaze took me aback. I hadn’t realized just how much he cared about her feelings. “Okay . . .”

  I had barely opened the car door when Amanda came dashing toward me, the light from her living room streaming across the grass through the front door she’d left open. “Jill!”

  I climbed out of the car and let her hug me, surprised to find my arms going around her of their own accord and holding her as tight as she was holding me. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You’ve never just taken off like that before,” she said, stepping back and looking into my eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “It was pretty silly, actually.” I sniffed and wiped my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying. “I just went in for a talk with Ms. Young, she told me the truth about some things, and it hurt. A lot.”

  “What kind of truth?” Amanda tucked her arm through mine and led me into her house. Dylan followed behind, quiet for once.

  “Oh, about why I’m such a control freak and stuff.”

  “She said that to you? Isn’t there a rule about student advisors being mean to students?” Amanda led me to the overstuffed chair in her living room, which was really the only comfortable place to sit. I felt awful. I’d ignored her all day, and now she was showering me with love I didn’t feel I deserved.

  “She wasn’t mean. No, it was more like, she showed me a mirror. And now that I’ve looked into it, I can understand things better, hurtful things, but . . . I think I needed to see them.”

  “Like what kinds of things?”

  She wasn’t going to give up until I’d told her everything. That was probably okay, though—talking it out would most likely help me.

  “My parents are getting a divorce.”

  Amanda glanced over at Dylan. Her expression plainly read, “Didn’t we already know that?” but then she turned back to me. “Yeah, they are, Jill.”

  “And everyone knew that but me. I thought that if I could just convince them, somehow they’d change their minds and not have any problems anymore and life would be hunky-dory again. Except, it never was hunky-dory, so it can’t be hunky-dory again, can it?”

  “No, I guess not.” Amanda knelt down next to me. The nearest seat was a few feet away—I guess she felt that was too far. It was comforting having her right there, actually.

  “And then I talked to Bruce, and he said I was right, and he’s really in the hospital because his dad beat him up, and—”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. And . . . and . . . I just don’t know.” I looked around Amanda’s living room, at the walls, at the pictures of her and all her siblings, things I’d seen a million times and yet were suddenly new. “Do you think I could stay the night?”

  “Of course you can!” Amanda squeezed my hand. “I’ll go tell my mom, okay?”

  I watched her leave the room. “I don’t deserve a friend like her,” I said to Dylan.

  “I’ve . . .” Dylan started, but stopped.

  “What?”

  “No, I shouldn’t say anything. Just ignore me.”

  “Like you’ve ever held back from saying anything in your life? Come on, out with it.”

  Dylan cleared his throat. “I’ve just wondered about your relationship with Amanda. You seem . . . different with her than she is with you.”

  I sighed. “Amanda’s amazing. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

  He nodded.

  “Well, she really puts herself out there, and I’ve never been able to be that way. I guess I’ve just been burned so many times that I don’t open up all that easily.” Massive understatement.

  “I think it would mean a lot to her if you tried. She deserves that.”

  “Yeah, I know she does. No one has ever been so there for me in my life.”

  Amanda came back in just then. “My mom says you’re more than welcome to stay the night.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check in at my house too.” I shot my mom off a quick text, just letting her know I was at Amanda’s and asking if I could stay over. I knew it wasn’t an issue—I was here all the time. But I didn’t want her to worry. A minute later, Mom texted back to say it was all right with her if I stayed, but my dad had called and wanted to take me out. With my emotions still so raw, I didn’t think I could see him. I texted him and asked if we could go out Saturday instead.

  “So, you’re good?” Dylan asked, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m good. And hey, thanks.”

  “No prob.”

  Amanda walked him to the door and I heard them talking softly. They really were so cute together—I wondered if they realized that. I started thinking about all the ways I could help them get this relationship going, but then I stopped myself. They were big kids. They could handle this themselves. And I was a big kid and needed to let them.

  Amanda and I stayed up way later than we should have on a school night, watching chick flicks and eating junk food. I knew I was going to regret it—especially after the cheeseburger earlier too—but for that one night, it was nice to stop trying to be responsible and just have fun. Around one o’clock as we settled down in Amanda’s room, both of us barely fitting in her double bed, I decided it was time for me to start being more vulnerable. I knew Amanda wouldn’t abuse that trust, and it was a step I badly needed to take.

  “Hey,” I said softly into the darkness. “Thank you.”

  “No worries. You can stay over anytime.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” I paused for a second. “Thank you for being my friend. I know I’m really hard to cope with sometimes, but you never stop loving me, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

  I could almost feel her smile. “You are a little crabby sometimes, but you know what, that’s when you need love the most. Everything’s going to be okay, Jill. You’re going to make it through this.”

  “Thanks. And see—this is what I mean. I’m trying to tell you thank you, and you come right back with more love and support. You’re awesome. And I’m going to be a better friend to you from now on. You deserve that.”

  She reached out and found my hand, squeezing it once before letting it go.

  “Now, tell me all about Mario. Have you gotten over him yet?”

  I lay there next to my best friend and listened, really listened, as she poured her heart out and fell asleep in the middle of a sentence half an hour later.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even though I hadn’t gotten to sleep until way late, I woke up before Amanda’s alarm went off. The gray light of dawn was creeping across the ceiling, and it was the perfect time to think. Everything that had happened the day before came crashing down on me and it hurt, a lot, but it also felt like a rebirth in some ways. Now that I understood why I was the way I was, I could work with that. It was a fresh start, a chance to make new decisions and know what they needed to be.

  And then I remembered that I’d never turned in my article for the week. Between being upset about Bruce’s surgery and my talk with Ms. Young and my little pity-party bicycle trip to the woods, I’d spaced it entirely. This was bad. Very bad.

  I sat up and started to paw around, looking for my things.

  “What’s the matter?” Amanda asked. Her hair was all over in her face—she looked like she’d been caught in a wind tunnel.

  “I forgot to
turn in my article yesterday. Colby is going to kill me.”

  “A lot happened to you yesterday. You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

  I paused for a second. She was right. With everything that had gone on, I realistically couldn’t have gotten that article ready, and while I felt bad about it, I didn’t need to pile more on myself than I already had. “So what should I do?”

  Amanda handed me her little notebook laptop, which had been sitting on the floor next to the bed. “Email Colby and tell him you’ll send something over in a minute, and then . . .” She tapped her finger on her chin. If it was anyone else, I’d think they were just being goofy, but she really did do that when she thought. “Why don’t you do a ‘Best of Jill’ column? Reprint some of your favorite old letters?”

  “You are brilliant.” I punched in my email password and sure enough, there was a note from Colby wondering where my article was. I should have given him my cell number, but it’s not like I’d really been answering it yesterday anyway. I emailed him back, then turned to Amanda. “Okay, now what?”

  “I’ll upload the school website’s newspaper archives while you hop in the shower. You can borrow some clothes, okay? And then you can look through the articles and choose a few. We’ll make it work.”

  I smiled, filled with gratitude, and on a sudden impulse, I leaned down and gave her a quick hug. It was such an Amanda thing to do, I surprised myself. I surprised her, too—her eyes were a little shiny when I pulled away.

  “Shower,” she said, waving me toward her bathroom. “I’ll find you some clothes.”

  By the time I returned to her room, she’d pulled up the archives and chosen out a couple of articles she thought were some of my best. She then hopped in the shower while I did some copying and pasting and sent the document over to Colby. He might think it was a little lazy, but I couldn’t go back and fix what had happened, and this was better than no article at all.