I skip breakfast and head to school, because I don’t want to risk running into Michael. I stake out a spot at the front door and wait for the rest of the group to show, just like old times. It takes about thirty minutes. Kara’s first to show. She stands next to me, quiet. I just want to kill her.
“Don’t get comfortable,” she says.
I turn to her. “What?”
“Don’t get comfortable,” she repeats slowly. “This was Anna’s idea, but I’d rather see you dead after that e-mail than pretend we’re friends for the rest of the year, no matter how miserable it makes you. I’m not done with you, so don’t get comfortable.”
It never stops.
“Don’t tempt me, Kara.”
“Watch your back, Regina.”
“Go fuck yourself, Kara.”
Jeanette and Marta bound up to us—to Kara—then. I put a little space between us. Waiting for Anna is hell on my stomach, and I’ve taken three antacids by the time she arrives, wearing one of the lowest cut tops I’ve ever seen. Marta whistles.
“I hope you don’t plan on bending over today.”
“Only in front of Josh,” she replies, grinning.
Michael’s car pulls into the parking lot before I can roll my eyes at what she’s said. My stomach twinges. “Let’s go in. Please.”
I watch him make his way toward the school. It doesn’t really hurt yet, seeing him but not being near him. I think I’m still in shock. I hunch my shoulders and edge closer to Anna, like that’ll make me invisible, but she notices and steps away from me.
When Michael reaches us, he keeps walking.
“He cannot have gotten over it that fast,” Anna says, watching him go. “You didn’t tell him, did you? Because if you did—”
“No! I didn’t—I haven’t talked to him at all. He called me last night and I didn’t even pick up. I didn’t tell him, Anna, I swear—”
“I know you didn’t.” She grins. “I just wanted to see you squirm.”
“Bitch.”
Kara, Marta, and Jeanette gasp.
We’re all wearing yellow.
I walk away. Anna calls me back. I keep walking. I’m shoving my hands into my pockets, popping two antacids. I stop on the second floor and lean against a row of lockers. They won’t find me here for a couple of minutes. But Liz does. Liz finds me. When she walks into my line of vision, I groan.
“What were they offering?” she asks.
“Liz, go away,” I say.
“Michael asked me if I knew anything,” she says. “He thinks you have a reason. Like he really thinks that what you’re doing right now doesn’t make sense.”
“Anna wanted to be friends again,” I say. “I can spend the rest of my year getting locked in closets or I can be friends with Michael. And you should be happy. You didn’t want me anywhere near him.”
“You’re a bitch,” she says.
“Hey, self-preservation. Don’t blame me because you and Michael were too stupid to figure it out and got hurt.”
“This is so shocking,” she says sarcastically. “But once a coward . . .”
I can’t wait until I’m too dead inside to feel this. I leave her there. I make my way to my locker. Josh, Anna, and Henry are there, and all of a sudden I can’t see. I can’t see, I can’t breathe. I turn before they see me. I’m halfway down the hall from them when the bell rings and I realize I need my books for class.
I head back to my locker, and they’re still there. I shove Josh aside and fumble with my lock. I don’t say a word. They don’t say a word to me.
Because I just have to be a part of this scene. Not belong to it.
“Come on,” Anna is saying, squeezing Josh’s shoulder, nearly falling out of her top. Josh gets all disappointed when she doesn’t. “One more party.”
“I don’t know. It’s getting kind of cold out.”
“That’s what the bonfire’s for,” Henry says.
Josh punches him in the arm. “You just want to get wasted.”
“I don’t need an excuse,” Henry replies. “But I do like getting wasted in a group setting.” He belches. “I refuse to accept that last monstrosity of a party as the last party of the season.”
“Seriously.” Anna eyes me. “Come on, Josh. This weekend. You said—”
“Can’t,” Josh replies. “My dad’s here this weekend, and I need to get some of his prescriptions and restock first. I mean, if you want it to be a really good party . . .”
The bell rings. They trail down the hall. When they’re about twenty steps away from me, Anna notices I’m not trailing after them. She stops. Turns. Snaps her fingers. Points to the empty space beside her.
“Regina,” she says. “Here.”
My only solace is the weekend.