by Catherine Lo
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” she says. “I thought we’d go back to the same coffee shop we went to in the fall. Does that sound okay?”
I nod and squirm in my seat. She doesn’t seem angry with me. I sneak a peek at her as she drives and silently curse Jess for crying to her mom about our fight. How am I going to explain myself to Mrs. Avery?
By the time we sit down with our drinks, my heart is beating so fast that I’m afraid I might faint.
Mrs. Avery frowns at me over the top of her coffee cup, and I’m convinced that she hates me. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing talking to you, Annie,” she begins, “but I feel like there are some things about Jessie that you should know.”
I blink in confusion. “Is she okay?”
“She’s taking the fight you two had very hard, but that’s not the reason I brought you here to talk. I’d like to explain some things about Jessie that might make you understand her a little better.”
“So . . . so you’re not mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Of course not. Did you think I brought you here to lecture you about the fight?”
I shrug and try to swallow the lump in my throat. “I thought you might be disappointed in me.”
“I was sorry to hear that you and Jessie fought, but I’m not disappointed in you at all. In fact, I think I probably understand where some of the tension between the two of you is coming from.”
She tells me about how Jessie had a kind of breakdown in seventh grade after everything fell apart with Courtney and Larissa. Jess started having panic attacks and refused to go to school. Things got so bad that her parents had to take her to a doctor, and that’s how they found out that she was depressed and that she has an anxiety disorder.
“Jessie’s social anxiety makes her see judgments from other people even when there are none,” Mrs. Avery explains. “She gets fixated on all the negative things people might think about her, and then she has trouble sorting out whether her fears are realistic or not.”
“So that’s why she’s always so worried about what Courtney and Larissa think.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought she was just being paranoid. They apologized, and we were all trying to convince her to move on, but she just couldn’t let go of the idea that they hate her.”
It all makes so much sense now: Jess feeling like every status update and comment is about her, how she doesn’t like to go to parties or hang out at the mall, and how she hides away in her room all the time. “I feel terrible,” I tell Mrs. Avery. “I wouldn’t have been so hard on her if I’d known.”
“It’s not your fault, Annie,” she says, pulling a collection of books and pamphlets out of her bag and placing them on the table between us. “I can imagine it must be confusing for you sometimes, trying to wrap your head around her reactions to things. I was hoping that if you took a look at some information about anxiety, it might help you understand her better. I know how close you and Jessie are, and it pains me to think that her anxiety might come between you.”
“Of course,” I tell her, sliding the books over closer to me. “I just . . . why didn’t she tell me? We’re supposed to be friends.”
“Oh, Annie, you are friends. And your opinion means more to Jessie than you could possibly understand. I think she was worried that you might see her differently. She was afraid of complicating things between you.”
That makes sense, I guess, but I’m still disappointed. “I’m glad you told me.”
“Me too . . . I think. I’ve taken a risk, trusting you with this, but I think you’re a very trustworthy person. Jessie wouldn’t be happy if she knew I’d interfered, and she’d be devastated if this got out. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell her—or anyone else—about this conversation.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
On the drive back to my house, my mind is in overdrive trying to work through everything Mrs. Avery told me. I can’t stop thinking about our fight and how I got so mad at Jess just for being who she is. I was such a hypocrite, expecting her to make allowances for Courtney’s personality when I wasn’t doing the same for her. An idea starts to take shape in my mind. I can’t change the way Jessie sees things, but maybe I can change the things she sees.
When Mrs. Avery drops me off at home, I slip inside the front door and stash the books she gave me in the closet. I peer out the window and wait for her to drive away before sneaking back out and rushing down the street to Courtney’s house.
I’m on Court’s front porch before I realize I need to slow down and figure out what the hell I’m going to say. Obviously, I can’t tell her about Jessie’s anxiety, so how am I going to convince her to cut Jess some slack?
I’m pacing the porch and muttering ideas to myself when Courtney whips open the door and scares the shit out of me.
“Are you having some kind of psychotic episode out here?” she snaps.
“Oh my God, you scared me,” I yelp, nearly jumping out of my skin.
“I scared you? I was about to call 911 before I recognized you.” She grabs my sleeve and yanks me inside. “What’s with the talking to yourself?”
I shrug and follow her into her room. “I was just trying to figure out how to talk to you about something.”
“No, I will not go out with you,” she deadpans, flopping down on her bed. “Does that answer your question?”
“Funny. No.”
“Well, spit it out, then.”
“So . . . you know how Jessie hasn’t been eating with us anymore—”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Annie,” she groans. “We’re not really going to have another Jessie talk, are we?”
I run my hands through my hair. “No. Well, yes. But this is different.”
“I doubt that,” she mutters, picking up the remote and turning on her TV.
Clearly I should have rehearsed more.
I step between Court and the television. “Listen,” I say in my best don’t-fuck-with-me voice. “I found out some stuff today, and things have got to change.”
Courtney smirks, and I see red. “I’m serious, Court.” I grab the remote out of her hand and flick off the television before hurling the remote onto her bed for effect. I must whip it harder than I thought, because it bounces off and sails right through her open window.
Our eyes meet in shocked silence, and then we both race to look outside. The remote is just out of reach, stuck in a patch of snow on the roof below.
“Well, that’s just fucking great,” Court says. “Any other weird shit you want to pull today?”
I take one look at her pissed-off expression, and I can’t help it—I burst out laughing.
Courtney tries to keep a straight face, but a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, making me laugh even harder.
“You’re crazy,” she mutters, and a little snort escapes as she pulls her head back inside. I fall to the floor, clutching my sides and trying to catch my breath.
“I can’t believe you threw my remote out the window,” she says, giving in to the laughter.
“It bounced!” I squeal. “Who leaves their window open in the middle of winter, anyway? And where the hell is the screen?”
“It . . . was . . . hot in here,” she manages. “And I took the screen off because that’s how I sneak out at night.”
“Well, next time you sneak out, just grab the remote on your way.”
She grabs a pillow and thwacks me on the head with it, and we both lose it completely.
It takes forever for the laughter to subside enough that our breathing returns to normal and we can talk again.
“So tell me about the Jess thing.” She groans softly. “I’m all ears.”
“And open-minded?” I prompt.
“Don’t push your luck, Miller.”
“Right.” I sit cross-legged on the floor and consider my options. I know I promised Mrs. Avery that I wouldn’t say anything about Jessie’s anxiety, but here’s the thing: Courtney’s not the bitch everyone thin
ks she is. I’ve seen the real her underneath all that.
“What if I told you there was a good reason why Jess does all that stuff that annoys you—” I begin.
“This should be good,” she quips. “Like, she was abducted by aliens and is suffering the effects of mind control?”
“Good one. But no. Remember when you told me that the thing that bugs you the most is how sensitive Jess is, and how much you hate it when she overreacts?”
“Mmhmm.”
I take a deep breath and push back my feelings of guilt before telling Courtney about Jess’s anxiety.
Courtney listens to it all, then lies back on her bed and stares up at the ceiling. “Why did you tell me all that?” she asks.
“Because I trust you. I knew that if I told you the truth, you’d help me help Jessie.”
She bites her lip, thinking hard. “Okay,” she says finally. “I’ll try.”
Jessie
I’ve fantasized about Annie and me making up a million different ways, but I can safely say that none of those scenarios took place in a high school bathroom.
So imagine my surprise when after almost three weeks of not talking, Annie waltzed into the washroom while I was fixing my hair today, smiled at me, and said, “Hi, Jess, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I thought I was dreaming.
And after all that time spent thinking about what I’d say in the event that she spoke to me again, the best I could come up with was “What?”
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I owe you an apology.”
I had to brace myself against the sink. It was so bizarre. Annie was standing there like she was making a presentation in class, and her words were all wrong. It didn’t even sound like her. My Annie would have said, “I’m sorry,” or “Can you forgive me for being such a bitch?”
“I owe you one too,” I said, cringing at the distance between us.
“Thanks. I guess we both kind of freaked out, right?”
“Right.” It came out in a whoosh of feeling, and Annie seemed to relax a bit.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, running up and giving me a tight hug. “Friends again?”
I forced a smile onto my face and allowed myself to believe this was really happening. “Friends. My mom will be so relieved to see you after school. I think this fight has been even harder on her than on me.”
Annie laughed. “I miss her too, but I’m going over to Scott’s today. I want us to hang out soon, though. What day is good for you?”
Any day. Every day. “How about Friday?”
“Hmmm . . . Friday I’m going to the movies with Scott, Larissa, and Jonathan. Do you want to come?” Her voice trailed off, making the invitation sound as insincere as it was.
I wanted to joke with her about me being the loser with no boyfriend, but instead I said, “Nah. I have . . . I mean, I was going to invite you back to Avery Family Games Night.” My heart constricted at how pathetic my Friday night sounded.
“Holy shit! I forgot about tacos and games! We should so do that again sometime.”
It happens every Friday night, I thought to myself. “What day is good for you?”
“What about Sunday afternoon?”
“Sure! My house?”
“Absolutely! I miss hanging out at your place.” She paused to check her reflection and smooth her hair. “Listen, I had a long talk with Courtney about the way she was treating you, and things are going to be different from now on, I promise. Please say you’ll sit with us at lunch today, okay?”
She didn’t even wait for a response. She just flashed me a quick smile and walked out, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.
I was relieved we made up, but it seemed so anticlimactic. After weeks of worries and tears and gnawing sadness . . . after all the panic and self-doubt and desperation . . . to have Annie just toss an “I’m sorry” at me and then go about her day as if nothing had ever happened . . . it was so unsatisfying. I felt like all that time was a complete waste, because I was right back to where I started before our big fight. Maybe even a step or two back.
I spent the rest of the morning stressing about what to do at lunch. I didn’t want to eat with Courtney and the others, but I did want to spend time with Annie.
I had absolutely no idea what made her apologize. It felt so tenuous. I was afraid that if I ditched her at lunch, she’d get mad again. So I swallowed my fears (and more than a little of my dignity) and went back to Courtney’s table in the cafeteria.
“Well, well, well,” Courtney singsonged when she saw me. “Look who’s back.”
“Isn’t it great?” Annie’s smile was wide.
Courtney nodded her head and crinkled her eyes. “It’s good to have you back,” she told me. I braced myself for the punch line, but she just smiled and went back to her lunch.
What the . . .
“So now that we have you back with us,” Larissa said, “I can’t wait to hear your ideas for Annie’s birthday party. I’m sure she’s told you all about it, right?”
My heart plummeted.
“Not yet,” I said, with what I hoped sounded like confidence, “but I’m sure she’ll fill me in.”
Annie gave me a look that I couldn’t read. “Will you come?”
I took a deep breath and looked around the table. “Of course I’ll come. And I’d love to help you guys plan.”
Annie squeezed my hand and beamed a smile at me. “Thanks, Jess.”
“So . . .” I said, hoping to smooth things over further. “What are we doing? A sleepover? Should I get movies or snacks?”
Larissa burst out laughing, and Courtney ducked her head to hide her smirk.
“You are so cute,” Larissa said, shaking her head. “We’re having a proper party. At my house, of course. And if you want to bring something, you can bring booze. Otherwise, just bring yourself.”
I tried to catch Annie’s eye. Booze?
“There’s no way I can bring anything,” Annie apologized. “Madge keeps the liquor cabinet locked.”
“What about Sophie?” Larissa asked. “Can you get her to buy us something?”
“Hmmm . . . let me ask her. I can’t make any promises, though. It totally depends on her mood.” Annie rolled her eyes, and they all laughed. The weeks I’d been out of the loop suddenly felt like years.
“What about you, Jess?” Larissa asked, shooting a look at Courtney. “Any older friends who can hook us up?”
I don’t know anyone, of course, but I didn’t want to admit that. “Let me look into it.”
Courtney bit her bottom lip and exchanged a look with Annie. “Don’t worry about it, Jess,” she said gently. “We’ve got it covered.”
Whatever conversation Annie had with Courtney, clearly it had an impact.
I should have felt relieved, and even grateful. But instead I was more than a little insulted. I felt like everyone was being fake and treating me like a kid. I resolved to track down alcohol for Annie’s party if it was the last thing I did. I wanted to earn Courtney’s respect, not have her feel sorry for me.
Annie
I rush into my bathroom, tripping over the clothes spilling out of my hamper and banging my knee against the vanity. Shit! I’m running stupidly late this morning.
I snatch up my toothbrush and scrub my teeth as quickly as possible, calculating how late I’ll be for first period. Detention late? Or just lecture late?
One look in the mirror confirms that it will definitely be detention late. I look like death. It took me forever to fall asleep last night, and it shows on my face. My cheeks are sickly pale, and there are dark circles under my eyes.
Concealer. Need concealer.
I shuffle through the bottles and tubes littering the countertop but come up empty-handed. What the hell?
I wrench open the drawer, nearly yanking it right out of the vanity. It’s got to be here somewhere. I empty the contents of the drawer onto the countertop—brushes, mascara
, Band-Aids, tampons . . . I’ve got everything in here except concealer.
That’s when I remember—the makeup kit Madge gave me for Christmas. It’s still sitting, untouched, on my dresser. I skid into my room and pop it open, and there it is—concealer! Thank God.
Back in my bathroom, I’m dabbing it under my eyes when a horrible feeling creeps up my spine. I look at the countertop where I tossed the tampons out of my drawer. When was the last time . . .
The room goes hazy.
Think.
Were Jess and I speaking then? Did I have it on spring break? Was it before or after the history assignment was due?
I have absolutely no idea. It could have been last month or three months ago for all I can remember.
As stupid as this sounds, I’ve never kept track of when my period comes. I can always tell when it’s on its way, since I start getting cramps and feeling gross, so I just wait for the signs and make sure I’m prepared. I stumble over to the bathtub and sit on the edge, taking deep breaths and trying to sense some sign that my period is coming, but there’s nothing. Not even a twinge.
Fucking hell. I can’t be—can I?
I get up, smooth out the concealer under my eyes, and head into my room for my bag. My first class is a write-off. I check the clock on my nightstand and make a decision. I’m headed to the pharmacy and then to find Jess.
She’s the only person I trust with this. The only person who understands having a secret you can’t tell anyone else.
Jessie
Do you ever have days when you swear you’re dreaming? When reality is so ephemeral . . . so slippery . . . that your mind skates along the edge of disbelief?
That was my day today.
Annie herself is like a dream. One minute I think I have her figured out, and the next she morphs into someone new.
Every time I get comfortable—every time I relax into our friendship—it takes a dizzying new turn. Today was the most dizzying turn of all.