CHAPTER 6

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“He didn’t even say hi?” Ariel asked, pushing her red hair out of her eyes.

I was presently hunched face down on the table, my arms over my head for extra dramatic effect.

“He didn’t even look at me,” I said, my voice muffled by the table.

“Was the hallway crowded?” Jasmine asked.

“No.”

“Maybe he’s blind or something.”

“Not helping.”

“Aw, Bella baby.” She rubbed my back like my mother used to. By some miracle, I didn’t break down in to sobs. “He’s an idiot if he didn’t notice you. You look great today. Way better than you’ve looked in a long time.”

“Not good enough, apparently.”

“You know what?” Ariel pulled my hair, jerking my face upward. I squirmed. “Jake Winsted is a butt hole. If he doesn’t notice you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

“That’s right!” Jasmine parroted.

“You deserve someone better than him.”

“Who’s better than him?” I asked. “Jake is the king of the school.”

Ariel and Jasmine looked at each other, then at me. They tried to pretend like they didn’t know what I was talking about, but they knew it. Everyone knew it. Jake was the top of the food chain here. No wonder he didn’t notice me. I was a fool to think he would.

“You don’t need Jake,” Ariel said. “He’s a jerk. There are much better boys out there.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“How about his brother?” Jasmine offered.

I laughed. Though I wanted to fall apart, I literally laughed out loud.

The very thought of Cole and I being anything other than mortal enemies was laughable.

Jasmine frowned at me.

“What? He’s cute and smart.”

“And he remembers your name,” Ariel offered.

“He’s worse than his brother. All he does is make fun of me.”

“Oh, Bella. That’s what boys do.”

I raised an eyebrow. As if Ariel knew about boys. None of us had had a boyfriend yet. All we knew was what we saw on TV and read in Seventeen Magazine.

“It’s okay,” I said, though it was completely, 100 percent not okay. “I’ll just get over it, I guess.”

Newsflash. I was not going to get over it. There was no getting over a boy like Jake Winsted. He was the type of guy that women remembered and talked about in nursing homes. I could see me, Ariel, and Jasmine now. Wrinkled, bent over, and sitting around a table filled with our knitting baskets. 

I’d say, “Remember that Jake Winsted. He sure was a catch. I wonder what happened to him.”

I prayed again for God to let the earth open up and swallow me.

“I think I know something that will cheer you up.”

Ariel pulled out a yellow sheet of paper from her book bag. In big, bold letters surrounded by stars were the words, St. Mary’s Annual Talent Show.

It took me a minute to register what she was alluding to. When I figured it out, I pushed the paper back toward her.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh. Come on, Bella! You have an awesome voice.”

“Yes. At home. With you two.”

Well, more than with them. When Mom was alive, we sang and sang until we were hoarse. Then we sang some more. She had a beautiful voice. Smooth and powerful. She sang lead in our church choir. When she stepped on stage, everyone teared up. When she opened her mouth, they bawled. Me included. I could only wish that I was as good as her.

“At least think about it,” Ariel said. “It will be good for you to get up there and show everyone how amazing you are.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine agreed.

I let out a groan. Mostly miserable, though a little bit of it was curious.

“I don’t even know what I would sing.”

“Sing that song that we like,” Ariel said.

“Which one?” I sang many songs, including a song book of Disney classics, anything by Adele, and, of course, Beyonce. I butchered Beyonce, but it was still fun to try and hit her high notes.

“Sussudio,” Ariel said. “I love when you sing that one.”

A sad smile pushed up my lips, before it disappeared again.

“My mom and I used to sing that one,” I said softly. I could hear her now, belting it out as if she was filled with yearning and missing and wanting. How she could make such a happy song sound so sad and full, I would never know.

Ariel put her hand over mine. She understood what I was going through. Her mom had died, too, leaving her dad and seven daughters behind.

“Promise me that you’ll think about it,” Ariel said. “Promise me.”

I hesitated. Getting in front of the entire school and singing? What if they thought I was terrible? What if I was terrible?

“Your mom would want you to,” Ariel added.

And there was the knife in my heart. My mom would want me to. I knew that. In a way, I wanted to, but my fear wrapped around me like a boa constrictor around its dinner. I took a shallow breath.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, plucking the paper from Ariel’s fingers.

She smiled, and clapped her hands.

“Whatever you decide, is fine with us,” Jasmine said. “As long as I don’t have to wear one of those Madonna bra cones.”

I thought of skinny Jasmine in a cone bra and laughed. Ariel joined in. Pretty soon, we were in tears and, for the first time that day, I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders.