Stick With Me

by Jennifer Blecher

  “Of course. I’ll come right over.”

  Izzy waited by the door as her mom put on a sweater and grabbed her phone. She almost left the techno blue envelope in the garage apartment, but at the last minute she shoved it in the front pocket of her coat. Then she ran back to the house with her mom, standing at the kitchen island as her mom texted Phoebe’s mom and tried to remember the password for the school directory to find Daphne’s information.

  Wren’s mom paced from the kitchen to the mudroom and back. She froze. “Wren’s skating bag. Where is it? I could’ve sworn I saw it here.”

  Izzy looked out the window to the driveway where she’d found Wren jumping in place in the freezing night air. She remembered Wren’s question about Willoway Pond—Does anyone skate here?

  “Mom,” said Izzy.

  “Hold on, Iz. I need to concentrate.”

  But Izzy couldn’t wait. She zipped her coat all the way up and went for the back door. “Wren might have gone to Willoway Pond. I can go check.”

  “The pond at night? No way.”

  “Please, Mom,” said Izzy. “I’ll be right back.”

  Izzy’s mom brought the top of her phone to her lips. She looked at Wren’s mom, who stood with her hands interlaced at her chin.

  “Okay,” said Izzy’s mom. “Go check. But come right back.”

  20

  Wren and the Angry Ice

  Exhausted from standing, Wren lowered her body to the ice.

  She reached for the slippery surface with tented fingers, an attempt to ease the transition and distribute her weight. To keep the ice happy.

  The ice was not happy. Its cracks splintered and grew.

  But it held. For now.

  Wren wasn’t wearing a watch and didn’t have a phone. Based on the stiffness in her fingers and the numbness of her toes, she’d probably been stuck for at least an hour. Her mom might wake up soon. Maybe she’d call Wren’s name and realize she wasn’t home.

  Or maybe not.

  And that was only half the problem.

  The other half was that no one knew where she was.

  Wren tried to scream. “Help!” But her tired voice refused to cooperate.

  She could see houses through the tree branches, but they were faraway. Their windows shut. Their doors closed. Keeping out the cold.

  “Help!”

  Wren wiggled her toes in her skates. Slowly she brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms tight.

  She didn’t dare move anything else.

  Wren thought about the shiny, dense ice of the Dartmouth College rink. Sitting next to Charlie on the hard bench of his Zamboni machine. Back then, she’d been so certain that one day she’d stand on a podium. And everyone would be so proud.

  But now, stuck on this fragile ice in the dark, Wren thought about something else that happened at the rink that year. Nancy had tried to start a synchronized skating team. She’d gathered her students and shown them a video of a team from Connecticut that did back crossovers with their arms linked and deep lunges in between one another’s outstretched arms. Nancy had lined them up by height to try to repeat what the Connecticut girls had done.

  And Wren had hated it. She didn’t want to count in unison as she did back crossovers or be responsible for steadying someone else’s balance in a spiral.

  The other girls’ hands pressing on her shoulders just slowed her down.

  Wren wanted space to build her crossovers. To launch into her jumps. To twist into her layback spins.

  Unlike the rest of her life, when Wren was skating, no one could drag her down. There was no Hannah to worry about. To talk about. To plan around. No Nora to offend. No Izzy to scare away.

  When Wren was on the ice, she could accomplish amazing things all by herself.

  And now look what she’d done.

  All by herself.

  The shore wasn’t far, but she didn’t have the courage to move toward it. What if the ice cracked completely and she fell through? Would the cold water instantly stop her heart?

  The thought made her chest tight. Her breath short.

  Wren could only sit and wait.

  And wonder if she was going to die.

  Then she heard a rustling through the trees. A familiar voice. “Wren! Wren! Are you there?”

  It was Izzy. She was running to the edge of the ice, waving her arms.

  Yes, thought Wren. I’m here. But when she opened her mouth to speak, the words scratched against her throat and faded to nothing.

  “Hold on,” said Izzy. “I’m coming to get you.”

  Izzy tested the ice with her foot. She frowned, walked a few steps away, and tested another spot.

  “I don’t know,” yelled Izzy. “Maybe I should go get our moms. They’re home. I told them I’d be right back.”

  “No!” It took every bit of strength for Wren to yell the word. Izzy couldn’t leave her. Please don’t go.

  “Okay,” said Izzy. “Okay, I’ll stay. But can you try to come in? Do you think you can do it?”

  Izzy crouched at the edge of the ice and stretched her arms toward Wren. She wasn’t close to reaching, but she was there. Izzy had found her. Wren had to try.

  Wren shifted onto all fours. She pressed her palms flat on the ice, her fingers spread wide, covering the cracks like Band-Aids.

  Band-Aids that Wren wasn’t sure would stick.

  “You can do it,” said Izzy. “Go slow.”

  Go slow. The words echoed in Wren’s mind as she began to move.

  Right hand, left hand. Right knee, left knee. Wren was careful to keep her toe picks clear of the ice. To slide, not thump.

  “You’re doing it,” said Izzy. “Keep going.”

  The splintered surface with its cracks and grooves was terrifying. But Izzy kept her going.

  “You’re almost there,” said Izzy. “Come on, Wren. You’ve got this.”

  Right hand, left hand. Slide.

  Wren was close. But as she shifted forward, the ice underneath her hands gave way.

  Frigid water seeped over her knuckles. Her wrists.

  Wren gasped.

  Her palms hit the hard-packed mud bottom of the pond.

  The water was cold and sharp as it rushed up to her elbows. Wren’s body clenched tight.

  But when she looked up, Izzy was on her hands and knees. Coming to get her.

  21

  Izzy’s Impossibly Big Thing

  Izzy crawled a few inches before the ice at the edge of the pond cracked. But she knew from Row splashing in during the summer that the water was shallow this close to shore. Izzy braced herself for the cold and stepped in, wading toward Wren. As she approached, Wren reached up and Izzy slid her arms beneath Wren’s shoulders. Together they made their way out of the pond and collapsed on the sandy dirt.

  Wren’s feet splayed open and the wet blades of her skates shone in the moonlight. The wavy glow of white moon on steel was beautiful, except that Izzy was panting too hard to appreciate it. She dropped her chin to her chest, taking comfort in the rise and fall of her body. They were both all right. At least, she hoped so.

  “Are you okay?” Izzy asked Wren.

  Wren nodded, her lips a deep purple.

  Izzy’s breath began to slow and she leaned forward to lift the clinging wet denim material from her lower calves. She wiggled her toes inside her soaked boots. When Izzy sat back up, Wren made a noise, as if clearing her throat to speak.

  “Thanks for saving my life,” whispered Wren.

  Izzy didn’t know how to answer. You’re welcome? No problem? Had she really saved Wren’s life? It seemed an impossibly big thing to do. But before Izzy had found her, Wren was trapped in the center of the ice. And now here they were. Together and safe.

  But before Izzy could answer, voices called from the direction of the path. “Izzy! Wren! Girls!”

  “Mom,” said Wren in a raspy voice.

  “Down here!” yelled Izzy. “We’re down here!”

  In a flur
ry of rustling leaves and pounding steps, their moms appeared at the opening to the path and wrapped them both in hugs. Izzy’s mom kissed her cheek, her forehead, her cheek again. Then she pulled away, noticing Izzy’s wet legs and jacket sleeves. “Did you fall in?”

  “Wren’s soaked,” said Wren’s mom. “That water must be freezing. I should take her to a doctor—Izzy, too.”

  Izzy’s mom reached her hand over to Wren’s cheek. “You’re right. Better to be safe. There’s an emergency room in the next town over. Come on.”

  Izzy stood, her arms wrapped tight around her body, as her mom and Wren’s mom helped Wren up. Wren grimaced, releasing a small wheezing sound.

  “Your skates,” said Izzy. “Do you want to take them off?”

  “No,” said Wren. “Please . . .”

  “It’s okay,” said Wren’s mom. “I’ve got her.” With one smooth motion, she wrapped Wren’s arm around her neck and slid her hands underneath Wren’s body, lifting Wren as if she weighed nothing at all.

  Izzy reached for her mom’s hand and followed them up the path. With each step, moisture squished between her toes and under the soles of her feet. Her jeans clung to her legs and the sleeves of her jacket twisted around her arms. Outside, Izzy was shivering with cold. But inside, her mom’s fingers squeezing her palm, she was warm. Opposites.

  22

  Wren Sees the Light

  A knock on the sticker door.

  Wren opened her eyes. The bed was so cozy, so familiar, that for a second she forgot what had happened last night.

  But then Wren moved her arm. The bandage where the IV needle had been inserted brushed against the sheets. And it all came rushing back.

  The icy cold. The heated blanket. The oxygen monitor tight over her finger.

  “Come in,” she said.

  The sticker door swung open. Izzy flopped down at the end of the bed. “Were you still sleeping?” she asked.

  Wren looked to the window. A bright midday winter sun shone around the curtain edges. “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon,” said Izzy. “Isn’t that great!”

  “Great?” Wren’s head ached. The doctor had warned her about that. She remembered something about staying hydrated.

  “We missed theater camp,” continued Izzy. “Even my mom didn’t have the energy to get up this morning. I mean, I know you almost died. But at least something good came out of it.”

  Izzy smiled. But then the corners of her mouth dropped. “Sorry,” said Izzy. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Anytime,” said Wren. She did a pretend bow, like Otto might, one arm at her waist and the other outstretched as if holding a tray.

  Izzy laughed. And so did Wren. The shaking made her head hurt. But it was so worth it.

  Except then Wren remembered there was something else she needed to say and she stopped laughing. She should have said it in the hospital last night. But she and Izzy had been taken to different exam rooms. And when they were released, at almost two in the morning, Izzy fell asleep as soon as they got in the car.

  But now, Wren had no excuse. “I’m sorry for what I said about you not having any friends.”

  Izzy bit her lower lip. She hesitated. “The thing is, it’s kind of the truth.”

  “No,” said Wren. “Not anymore.”

  Izzy shifted on the bed. Crossed her legs underneath her. She spun the hospital ID bracelet, the same kind that Wren had, around her wrist. Then Izzy stood up and reached into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Here,” she said. “This is for you. It’s from Daphne.”

  “Daphne?” asked Wren, feeling bumps in the envelope. “Is there poison inside? Because almost dying once is enough for me.”

  Izzy shook her head. “It’s an invitation. Open it.”

  Wren pulled out a piece of paper the same color as the envelope. She held the paper so Izzy could see, but Izzy barely glanced at the words before turning away.

  It was an invitation to an epic sleepover at Daphne’s house. But why would Daphne ever invite her?

  Confused, Wren pulled out the other item in the envelope: a red beaded bracelet.

  Izzy gasped. She leaned over and touched the bracelet with one finger.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Wren.

  “I think it’s a setup,” said Izzy. Izzy explained how Phoebe’s and Serena’s envelopes had bracelets with tie-dye beads. “Daphne probably wants you to come so she can turn you away at the door. She probably didn’t think I would see you open the envelope. She really is the queen of mean.”

  “But there’s no way I would ever go to her sleepover,” said Wren. “Never ever.”

  “That’s not the way Daphne thinks. She thinks everyone wants to hang out with her, no matter what.”

  Wren nodded in agreement.

  The question was: What to do about it?

  23

  Izzy’s Idea

  The next afternoon, Saturday, Izzy went back to hang out with Wren. She sat at her desk, doodling on a piece of paper. Wren was stretched out on Izzy’s bed, her bag of clothes packed and waiting by the closet. Wren’s mom and dad were at the hospital with Hannah. Wren and her dad were going to drive back to New Hampshire right after dinner. Wren’s mom would sleep at the hospital and bring Hannah home in a few days.

  “We can’t let them get away with this,” said Wren. She picked up the techno blue envelope next to her on the bed.

  “She’s Daphne,” said Izzy. “She gets away with everything. It’s the way life works.”

  Wren slid the red beaded bracelet over her hand so that it stacked on top of her hospital ID bracelet. “Do you have any scissors?” she asked. “This hospital bracelet is so annoying. I need to cut it off.”

  Izzy looked at her own hospital ID bracelet. It was embarrassing, too embarrassing to admit to Wren, but Izzy wished Wren would keep hers on just a little while longer. She liked the way they matched.

  Still, Izzy got the scissors from her desk and brought them to Wren on the bed. She was about to hand the scissors to Wren when she froze. Their matching hospital bracelets, the red beaded bracelet, the invitation to the epic sleepover, her butterfly tin of Sharpies on the desk.

  They were dots that connected to form a plan.

  “Wait a second,” said Izzy. “I have an idea.”

  Two hours later, Nate backed down the driveway with Wren and Izzy in the backseat. “We need some music,” said Nate. “Something doomed, because you two are up to no good.”

  “Just drive, Nate,” said Izzy.

  She and Wren had thought about walking. But the sun had already set and there was no way their parents were going to let them wander out in the dark anytime soon. So they’d convinced Nate to take them out for pizza before Wren left for New Hampshire with her dad. With just one quick stop first.

  “Over there,” said Izzy, pointing to Daphne’s house. “The house with the lights.”

  “Be fast,” said Nate. “I’ve got a date.”

  “A date?” asked Izzy.

  “A date with destiny. If my little sister can save someone’s life, I can ask a girl out. At least if I make it before closing time.” Izzy smiled. She wanted to say something cheesy like “Way to go,” or “I know she’s going to say yes.” But she was too nervous about what she and Wren were about to do. She’d have plenty of time to talk to Nate. Her time with Wren was almost up.

  Lights glowed through the windows of Daphne’s house. Izzy couldn’t see Daphne, Phoebe, and Serena inside, but she felt a buzz in the air knowing they were there. Nate pulled to the curb and turned off the engine.

  “Okay,” said Wren. “Let’s do this.”

  Wren got out of the car and walked up the stone path that led to Daphne’s front door. Izzy followed, stepping off the path and into the shadows by some bushes. Her body shook with nerves as Wren continued up to the front door and reached for the doorbell.

  Ding-dong.

  Daphne appeared right away, as if she’d been standing in the f
ront hall waiting for this very moment. “Oh, hey, Wren,” she said with a big smile. “Are you here for the sleepover?”

  “Awesome,” said Phoebe, who appeared next to Wren.

  Waiting in the dark, Izzy’s legs felt soft, like she might collapse. She was tempted to hobble out, tap Wren on the shoulder, and drag her away before they went any further. But then Wren said the exact line that they’d rehearsed in Izzy’s bedroom that afternoon, both of them laughing as they tried different voices, joking that Mr. Blair would finally be proud of them for adding emotion to their words.

  “Thanks so much for inviting me to your epic sleepover,” said Wren in the happy tone they’d settled on. “I have my bracelet.”

  “Perfect,” said Daphne. “Can I see it? Obviously it’s your ticket to come inside.”

  “Sure,” said Wren.

  Izzy took a few cautious steps onto the grass. She watched as Wren pushed up the sleeve to her jacket. On Wren’s wrist was her hospital ID bracelet with four letters written in crisp black Sharpie: N I C E.

  Phoebe shook her head. She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not the right bracelet, Wren. You have to have the right bracelet.”

  Daphne stepped closer to Wren, ignoring Phoebe and squinting at Wren’s wrist. “‘Nice’? Like you want to tell me how nice I am? I mean, thanks, Wren. That’s super sweet. But that’s not the bracelet that came with your envelope. Do you have that bracelet? Maybe then you can come in.”

  Wren shook her head, pretending to be confused. “Oh, right,” she said, slapping her forehead. “Silly me, I do have another bracelet.”

  That was Izzy’s cue. There was no turning back. Izzy stepped out of the darkness and onto the stone path. She moved slowly at first, but as she got closer, Izzy saw the confusion in Phoebe’s and Daphne’s eyes. She saw Serena standing on the stairs holding a fat black cat with white paws. Izzy stepped next to Wren and pushed up her own jacket sleeve. Written on her hospital ID bracelet in black Sharpie were the letters T R Y.

  Daphne looked from Wren’s bracelet to Izzy’s bracelet. “Nice? Try?”