15

I corner Chloe in the morning before school. We’re crowded in the bathroom, both trying to blow-dry our hair and apply makeup. We’re plugged in on opposite sides of the bathroom, each of us in front of our own sink, our blow-dryers loud.

My eyes are red rimmed, and they feel raw every time I blink. I hardly slept, and when I did, I dreamed of Chloe, playing cards, nooses, and bombs. Had Chloe taken another card out of Dad’s wallet? I’d been snooping through his safe, so I couldn’t really judge her if she’d been doing the same thing. But seeing her with that horrible card in her hand? It made me worry.

Members of my family have come into contact with at least four creepy cards in the last couple weeks since the bombing attempt. The one in my locker, the one Chloe found in Dad’s wallet, the one I found in the safe, and the one I’d seen in Chloe’s hand yesterday. What in the world is going on? And why is my family such a part of it?

I watch us both in the mirror, look at our faces, and marvel at how different we are. But are we different because we have truly opposite personalities, or are we different because Chloe has purposely made herself as opposite from me as possible? If I liked red, did she decide to like blue? Since I got A’s, did she decide C’s were her goal?

Chloe must see me staring at her. She sets down her hair dryer, still running full blast. “What?” She asks me.

I turn mine off and set it down.

She keeps staring.

“Can you turn off your drier?” I shout, because that’s the only way she’ll hear me.

She does. “What?” she asks again. “You have the strangest look on your face.”

And now that I have her attention, I have no idea how to start.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“Yes. Why? Do I look sick?” She leans forward to the mirror to examine her face. She pokes at imaginary circles under her eyes.

“No—I guess you’ve just seemed a little down lately and I wanted to check in.”

And then I wonder if she’s heard me right. Because she starts to laugh. Hysterically. Like I’m the funniest person in the world.

I’m offended (a little) and alarmed (more than a little). “Why are you laughing?” I snap.

“Oh—sorry.” She dabs at her eyes with a tissue, and now she really does have circles underneath them because she’s managed to smear her eyeliner. “I’m fine, Gabi.”

“Why are you laughing?” I ask again.

“Because you sounded like a shrink.” She giggles. “But no worries. Right now I’m fine.” She tosses the wet tissue, now a dark gray, into the trash. “Things are good.”

“I’m glad.” And then I get curious. “Why are you fine right now?”

I can tell by the way her lips purse that she’s going to joke around. “Because God made me fine.” She tosses her hair dramatically. “Fine ass, fine face, fine, fine, fine.”

I catch myself rolling my eyes in the mirror. “At least you’ve got good self-esteem.”

“No—I’m fine because I have a new boyfriend.” She winks at my reflection.

“Really? Who?” Super curious. I didn’t know she’d dumped that freshman.

“Not telling yet. I’ve got to get to know him better first.”

“Oh, okay.” And I smile. Because I’m thinking of Eric. And Miguel. And wondering if I might have a boyfriend of my own pretty soon. I’m warming up to the idea.

“Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” I try to even out my lips, and I can’t. “I guess I’m just thinking I better ask how you’re doing more often.”

We’re both still facing the mirror, but she scoots over and slaps my butt. Hard.

“Ouch!” I complain.

“You’d have a fine ass too, if you gained five pounds.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh.

Chloe’s fine, I reassure myself. She’s not depressed. She’s not the kind of person to draw a noose around the neck of a queen of hearts. She probably just dug through Dad’s stuff, and I did the exact same thing, so who am I to judge? And as to why she looked so upset yesterday? Seeing a creepy card like that would be upsetting for anyone. It’s normal.

Chloe’s fine.

Honestly, she’s probably better adjusted than I am. She’s funny, laughing, dating new boyfriends. At least she knows what kind of guys she’s into. I’m clueless. Maybe I just need some experience to know what I’m looking for. I used to swear up and down that mint chip was the best ice cream in the world. Until I tasted double java chip, which is, hands down, a million times better. Maybe I won’t really know what kind of guy is my type until I take a risk and start to date.