“Oh, please. You dressed up to the nines for the Oscars. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
I can’t deny it. “Of course it was fun. But nowadays, I don't feel like I have to do all that. Only once in a while, when I want to.”
“But you do want to.” She taps my chest. “Deep inside there, I can feel the real Sia trying to break free. She wants to go tanning and shopping. She wants to live a life of fabulosity. Why can’t you understand that?”
I lean forward. “You and I have been friends for a long time, right?”
“Since we were in diapers.”
“And I don’t think we always cared about how we looked.”
“Well . . . ”
I smile. “Come on. This is pretty recent. I know. My dad showed me some videos of us as kids. We weren’t always like this.”
She hesitates, and I see something behind that icy glare. A softness.
“We had fun as kids, didn’t we?” I ask. “Before high school. Before all this stuff became important.”
She gives me a slow nod.
“And we had loads of friends. Not just cheerleaders and football players, didn’t we?”
She smiles wryly. “Yeah, even the losers.”
“We didn’t think they were losers then.”
This time, she shakes her head, but the movement is tight. She looks nervous, like a cornered animal. She lifts her chin. “Things change, Sia.”
“No. We changed.”
It’s strange, seeing her unsure of anything. She doesn’t answer me. Suddenly, I feel a need to reach out to her. Who knows? This might be my only chance to get through to her. “I wish we were still best friends, Amber. I really do. But I have changed, for the better. Don’t you ever wish you could go back to how it was? To the girl you were before . . . ” I gesture toward her tiny stylish outfit. “Before all this?”
She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. “I like who I am,” she finally snaps. “Everybody likes who I am. Everybody who counts, anyway.”
“Why do you get to decide who counts? And what makes you think you’re better than they are?”
She snorts. “Well, for one, none of them have money.”
“So? Neither does my family.”
“That’s not true. Your parents are super rich.”
“Not anymore. We’re going through a major financial crisis. We might lose everything.”
She stares at me, horrified. “Everything? Like . . . everything everything?
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Doesn’t matter, though. It’s just stuff. I’ll still have my family—and that’s what matters most. But what I’m trying to say is that if you truly want to be my friend, you’ll have to accept that. You’ll have to accept who I am now. Could you do that?”
“I don’t know if I can.” She eyes me with distaste. “I don’t want to dress like you.”
In spite of the insult, I chuckle. “Nobody’s asking you to. But can you get used to me being dressed this way? Me having new friends?”
She’s quiet, then looks away, distracted, when the truck honks again.
In that moment, I’m not sure if I’d be better off joining Kyle or staying right here, where I won’t have to deal with the lost money problem. But I know I can’t hide forever. Finally, I say, “I have to go. Will you think about what I said?”
When she turns back to me, her eyes are like razors. In that split second, she’s changed moods entirely. “You’re not always right, Sia. You have no business picking me apart. Acting like I’m the freak. You’ve grabbed onto these nobodies, and look at you. You’ve turned into one of them. It’s really sad, Sia. You and I, we ruled the school. Now you’re nothing.”
I sigh. “Maybe you're right, Amber.” An image of Carol pops into my head. “But a friend once told me that true friendship is when two friends can walk in different directions and still be side by side.”
Amber looks unimpressed. “That doesn’t make sense.”
I stare back at her. I’m sure she knows what I mean. “Just think about what I said, okay?”
Before she can answer, I brush past her and head down the corridor. Outside, people are gathered around the trucks, and they look restless. They’ve been waiting for me. I drop my chin. I’m really messing up today.
I climb into the truck beside Kyle. Ben sits on my other side. We’re the first shift. I glance over at Kyle, not sure how to start. “Kyle,” I say, but he stops me.
“We’ll talk later, okay?”
With that avenue of discussion closed, I have no idea what to bring up. Talk between us for the next two hours is awkward. I try, but I just can’t get there. Kyle hasn’t told Ben anything about the lost money, I guess, because the subject never comes up. The two of them chat about a movie they’ve been to recently, a comic book convention coming up, and other guy stuff.
A couple of times, I notice Kyle watching me. But when I look over, he pretends to be looking at something outside my window.
What is going on through his mind? I can't tell if he’s angry or not, though I have no doubt that he’s disappointed. Still, those glances of his make me wonder. Can he be thinking about the party? Does he think about our kiss as often I as I do?
No, I shouldn't do this to myself. He just wants to be friends. Whatever happened between us at that party, it’s done. Forever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I want to be happy about what we’re doing. I should be. After all, the food and supplies we’re bringing will help a lot of people. But all I can do is feel sick about the lost cash. I still can’t believe it. How could I have lost it? What else am I forgetting?
When I ride with Roberta and Tiff, I try to be all chatty and energetic, but I’m despairing inside. I don’t dare tell them about the lost money. It’ll just make everything so much worse. Kyle can tell them when he’s ready.
By the time we’re an hour away from San Francisco, it’s time for me to go back with Kyle. I’m glad, because I’ve decided to confront him about this. I need to know what he’s thinking. Roberta and Tiff both notice that he’s being very quiet, but they’ve just decided that it’s normal; Kyle’s always moody.
“Just give him space and everything will work out,” Roberta tells me.
Only I can’t. When we pull over at the last stop before San Francisco, I’m supposed to go in the cab with Kyle and Tiff.
“Hey, Tiff,” I say. “Can I ask a favor?”
She shrugs, always easygoing. “Sure. What's up?”
“I want to talk with Kyle. Alone.”
That piques her interest. “Really? You gonna, like, go for it?”
“What? No! He’s driving, for crying out loud. I just need to talk with him.”
Tiff gives me a lopsided grin. “Hey, can’t blame me for asking. The way you two look at each other is nauseating. In a good way.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. See if you can convince him of that. Anyway, would you mind riding in the other truck?”
“No problem.” She winks. “Good luck.”
When Kyle figures out what’s going on, it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t like the look of this,” he says as I buckle in.
My smile is tentative. I’m not sure, either, but I have to clear the air. “You only have to put up with me for an hour,” I tell him as he pulls onto the highway. The other truck has already left, so we’re bringing up the rear. “I just needed to—”
“Look,” he says, interrupting me, “I understand this isn’t your fault. You’ve gone through a traumatic experience recently. You’ve lost all your memories. Your mind is fragile. It’s going to take time for you to heal. I get it.”
“That’s hardly an excuse. I lost a lot of money, not just pocket change.”
“Stop punishing yourself, Sia. Focus on what you’ve accomplished instead.”
“I'll try. It’s just . . . frustrating. Not being in control of my own mind.”
His tone is soft. “I know.”
&nb
sp; I can’t help my reaction, even though it’s pretty pathetic. “So you don’t hate me?”
He glances quickly at me, shocked. “Hate you? Of course not! I’ve never . . . well, that’s not true.” He crooks a sheepish grin. “I used to hate you, the old you. But to be honest, it wasn’t even you I hated. It was what you used to represent.” He pauses. “Does that make sense?”
I nod. His eyes are back on the road. I stare straight ahead with him, thinking. “That means we’re still friends?”
He sighs, sounding tired. Can’t blame him. It’s been seven hours of driving already, and he hasn’t let me drive any of it. Something about insurance. “Yeah. We’re friends.”
That’s a relief. But I’m not done. “Also, about our ki—”
“Whoa! What’s going on?”
Kyle stares in his rearview mirror in disbelief. I can't see behind us because the truck’s blocking my view, but I don’t have to wait long. A cherry-red convertible comes up beside my window. Its driver is a woman in huge sunglasses. She’s wearing a dark, flowery scarf over her hair, waving madly at us, and honking her horn.
Amber.
Kyle and I exchange a glance, then he pulls over to the side of the road. I climb out of the truck and stand at the front, waiting for Amber.
She steps out of the car and comes running toward me, stumbling as her spike heels sink into the dirt. She stops ten feet away and slides her sunglasses off. She’s been crying.
“Sia,” she says, sniffing.
I am bewildered by her condition; I’ve never seen Amber so emotional. I’m not sure what to do, so I step over and hug her. “What's the matter, Amber? Are you okay?”
She nods into my shoulder, then moves away. Her expression is twisted with so much turmoil. What could have happened? “Sia, I’m so sorry,” she says.
I frown at her. “What? You’re sorry? Didn’t you say that I should apologize?”
“No, no,” she says, choking on a sob. “Forget I said that. I’m sorry. I’ve been stubborn and selfish. I keep hearing what you said back at school, about how we’d been friends forever. It wasn’t about the clothes or popularity back then. It was about us. I miss you, Sia. I miss our friendship.”
I tilt my head, feeling sorry for her, but I don’t understand. A big truck rattles by, lifting our hair. Instinctively, I tug her farther away from the road. “Couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow to tell me all that? Why drive all this way?”
“Because I'm sorry for something else, too.” She reaches into her purse and brings out a familiar envelope. She presses it into my hand.
It’s the cash.
CHAPTER FORTY
I stare at her, disbelieving. “Wha—”
“I wanted to hurt you,” she blurts. “I wanted everyone to blame you and come back to me. Because ever since you and . . . Kyle,” she says, forcing his name from the back of her throat, “started this thing, people have stopped paying attention to me. I felt like I was losing my power, you know?” She chuckles humorlessly. “Even Stacy chewed me out. I mean, Stacy! I never thought I’d see the day.” Tears well up in her eyes. Her voice lowers. “It felt like I was the only one not being a part of it all. I got really lonely. Everybody left me. They started watching you, admiring you. It felt like I was the evil witch while you got to be the good fairy. And I hated it.” She sighs. “So I stole the money.”
I am shocked. “But how’d you get into my locker?’
“You and I have always shared combinations,” she says with a shrug. Her eyes close. “We shared everything. We were best friends, no, sisters. I don’t want to throw all that away.” The red-rimmed eyes open again, and they’re pleading. “Will you forgive me?”
The thick envelope of money feels like a brick in my hands. I grip it tight, fighting the urge to pass it to Kyle for safekeeping. So I didn’t lose it! I’m not going crazy. The relief rushing through me is enormous.
At the same time, I’m furious. How could she have stolen money from me—stolen money from charity? Even for Amber, this is a new low. I glare at her, trying to feel something charitable myself, but I’m completely fuming.
“I’m trying to find the words.” My voice is quiet. The shushing of the traffic is reduced to a hum in the background. “I can’t believe you did this. I mean, thanks for bringing it back, but . . . Amber, this is serious.”
She stares at me, miserable. “It’s okay,” she says. “I know what I did was beyond evil. I’m not sure I can forgive myself, either.”
Kyle clears his throat, and I glance back at him. He nods, his mouth curving a bit, which seems odd. Then I realize the irony of the situation: I was once where Amber is now. I had behaved cruelly to Kyle and his friends, tormented them. Yet in a way, they’ve forgiven me. Surely I can do the same for Amber, can’t I? A calmness has settled in Kyle’s eyes, and it gives me the strength I need.
I take a deep breath. “Of course I forgive you, Amber. You were confused.”
“You do?”
I nod. “Everyone deserves a second chance. I mean, I got mine, thanks to the amnesia. Now it’s your turn.”
She hugs me again, then steps away. “Oh my God,” she mutters with a grimace. “My face must be a mess.”
“It kinda is,” I assure her, and we both giggle. It’s a small step forward. We still have a long way to go, but at least we’re moving in the right direction. “But Amber, you have to realize something. If we’re going to be friends, things aren’t going to be the same.”
Her eyes search mine. “But when your memory comes back—”
“I’ll fight to hold on. I want to be who I am now.” I pause. “Can you handle that?”
She sniffs. “I think so. I really want to try.” She smiles faintly. “I’ll just remember what you said about the two friends on the road.”
I hear Kyle’s shoes kick the gravel behind us. Almost forgot. “And you’ll have to accept my new friends, too,” I say.
She thinks it over. “I can do that.”
We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking.
Then I turn around and face Kyle. He’s leaning against the truck’s grill, arms folded. I can’t read his expression, but it’s not hostile. It’s more curious than anything.
“Kyle, would you mind driving alone the rest of the way? So I can ride with Amber?”
He shakes his head. “Not a problem. I’ll see you in San Fran.”
Inside Amber’s car, she grabs a scarf and hands it to me. “Don’t want your hair to get all tangled,” she explains. I hold her hand a little longer than I need to, and I smile. She’s trying already, being considerate. Baby steps.
“Thanks, Amber.”
She smiles back. “Sure.”
We follow Kyle as he pulls out into traffic. “So . . . ” she says, sounding casual, just two friends on a regular Saturday drive. “Tell me about this guy. I’ll admit, he’s kinda cute.” She raises an eyebrow. “Has he kissed you yet?”
“None of your business.”
She just laughs. “Must have been some kiss.”
As we drive, we do a lot of talking. It’s like I have a whole new friend—except she knows everything about me while I’m still learning about her. None of that matters during the ride, though. We talk the whole way, touching on some of the same topics. But we also branch out a bit, telling each other what’s been going on in our lives. Before we know it, we’re in San Francisco.
“This is a beautiful city,” I say.
Amber glances at me. “You’ve been here before, you know.”
“I have?”
She nods. “We vacationed here last year. But it’s kind of cool, right? You get to rediscover the place all over again.”
Ground zero is another story. Nothing beautiful there. We must drive carefully, steering around fractured roads and collapsed freeways, following detours. We really get to see the earthquake’s jarring aftermath. Tall, majestic buildings have been reduced to heaps of gray rubble. Chipped sidewalks are
littered with broken glass.
Everyone who was reported missing has been found, so the official search-and-rescue team has finished their job, but the streets are far from empty. We arrive at suppertime and park across the street from a lineup of ragged people. They’re waiting outside a building with a large Red Cross banner on the side. The lineup reminds me of waiting outside the soup kitchen with Carol. Only this one is much, much longer.
“Are you going to hand out food?” Amber asks.
“I think so.”
She clears her throat, eyeing the dirty crowd. “Do you think I could help?”
“Definitely,” I assure her.
“I wouldn’t have to touch them, would I?”
I stifle a chuckle, reminding myself to be patient with her. “No. You can just pass out food.”
“’Kay,” she says with a nod.
Kyle hops down from the truck in front of us and walks toward the building. A woman in a bright red shirt comes out to meet him. She must be Sheila, our contact. They talk a few minutes, then Kyle comes back and tells us to get back in the truck and follow him. He leads us to an alley where Sheila has already set up an assembly line of volunteers. It’s a good thing, because without them, it would take much longer to unload our food and supplies. Thirty minutes later, our trucks are empty and the food donations are sorted inside the building.
Amber, Stacy, and I join the other volunteers outside. They’re busy distributing food to an endless line of people. As I set up, I study them. From the look in the peoples’ eyes, the earthquake has shaken a lot more out of them than their homes. Their expressions are desolate, and the children cling to their parents, obviously afraid to be left alone. Then I remember how scared I had been at the rehab center. The mere aftershock had sent my parents and me scrambling under the tables. How much more fury had the actual earthquake unleashed here? These poor children. It must have been a terrifying experience.
Stacy’s passing out bottles before I can blink. She smiles and chats away the whole time.
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