She made friends the way some people catch a cold. Fast, and without seeming to notice it happening to her. By the start of senior year she had four of them, more or less permanently attached – the kind of group that moves through a hallway together like they’ve rehearsed it, laughing at things that…
I’d been trying to imagine her voice for about a week. I was wrong. The brain casts people before they’ve spoken, and mine had gone with something quieter than what showed up – lower, slower, the kind of voice that matches a girl who reads at bus stops and apologizes to dogs. That’s not what…
My parents got divorced the summer before senior year. Everybody kept asking if I was okay. I was. They should have done it years earlier. My mother stopped pretending she loved my father sometime around my sophomore year. My father stopped pretending he believed her not long after. The only thing that actually surprised me…
Don’t judge me yet. You don’t have enough information. You think love is waiting for a text. I know she missed the 7:42 again. Thursday. She always stays five minutes too long talking to the girl at reception, because the girl at reception is the only person who asks how she’s doing and actually waits…