Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content (6 page)

Embarrassed to be standing in line for no good reason, I go ahead and place an order for the kind of sushi that Jordan usually
gets, along with hot tea. I wait while the girl puts four tight little rice-and-seaweed rolls on a paper plate. Then I try not to look too obvious as I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see Jordan anywhere.

I pay for the sushi and go to a table where I’ll have a good view of anyone who comes or goes from the Sushi Bar. I take my time eating my sushi, which isn’t hard since I don’t think I really like sushi anyway. By the time I finish my tea, which tastes a bit like seaweed too, it’s cold. I feel like an idiot as I dump the garbage from my tray. I wonder if I am losing my mind as I head back across the mall and toward the bus stop. What was I thinking? Really! That I would just magically bump into Jordan and everything would be just peachy?
Get real, Kara!

I stand at the bus stop without really seeing anyone or anything. I just want out of this place. I want to go home. And maybe I really will go back to bed this time!

“Kara!”

Surprised to hear my name, and thinking I may have imagined it, I look up to see a red car full of girls. It’s slowing down by the bus stop, and now I see that Amber Elliott is at the wheel and Jordan is waving from an open window in the back seat.

“You on your way home?” she calls.

I hold up my stupid purple plastic bag and nod mutely.

“See ya!” She waves wildly as the car makes a fast left turn. I can hear squeals of laughter coming from the fast-moving car as they disappear in pursuit of a vacant parking place.

Then the big bus pulls up with its hissing brakes and the stench of diesel exhaust, and I am swallowed into its gritty, stuffy interior. I sit close to the front and stare blankly out the smeared window, wishing I were someone else.

“L
EAVE ME ALONE!
” I
SHOUT AT
B
REE AS I ATTEMPT TO PUSH HER OUT OF
my bedroom and close the door. I can’t believe she just walked right in here like she owns the place!

“Man!” Bree leaves her foot in the doorway and stares at me as if I’m a three-headed monster. “You are such a total grump, Kara! I only wanted to borrow your—”

“Look!” I yell over the music that’s playing pretty loudly on my CD player. “Whatever it is you want, I am
not
loaning it to you!
Get it?”

“Fine!” She’s glaring at me now. “But don’t come begging me for—”

I push back her foot and slam my door midsentence. My sister is such an idiot! As if I have
ever
“begged” her for anything. Well, except to be left alone right now. She is such a total pest.

I flop back down on my bed and experience the tiniest twinge of guilt for being so mean to her. But the feeling is short-lived and quickly replaced with this fierce red-hot anger that seems to be filling my entire being this evening. I honestly feel as if I hate everyone on the planet right now. They all make me sick. But most of all I despise Jordan Ferguson. I don’t know why I ever thought she was my friend. I’m sure that if I turned on the six o’clock news and
learned that she’d been run over by a freight train, I’d just throw back my head and laugh. Okay, maybe not. But it
feels
like I would.

Mom wanted me to go have Sunday brunch with her and Bree this morning, but I flat-out refused. For one thing, the idea of eating a bunch of soggy buffet food makes me want to hurl, but beyond that I cannot imagine sitting in a padded booth with my mom and sister and acting like everything is just peachy. Because the fact is, my life totally sucks!

Now I am wondering if there’s any way I can get out of going to school tomorrow. Mom is already starting to think I’m “coming down with something.” Maybe I should just run with that. I know I feel sick. My stomach hurts and my head is throbbing. Now that I think about it, I feel like I might even be running a fever.

Of course, I also feel extremely angry. I don’t ever recall feeling quite this mad about anything before. But I am furious. It’s like I’ve had all this time these past couple of days to really figure everything all out. Suddenly, it’s plain to see that I’ve been the biggest fool ever. I realize now that Jordan has done nothing but use me all these years when she pretended to be my friend.

I can’t believe how easily duped I was. It’s almost funny to think of how I was such a “handy” friend for her too. I mean how stupid is that? But there I was,
always
available.
Always
adoring.
Always
willing to go along with whatever totally lame idea she came up with next. Well,
almost
always. I guess I didn’t fall for the debate thing or cheerleading tryouts. Although I did go out for the balance beam in gymnastics, but I twisted my ankle at the first practice so that was that. Still, it seems crystal clear to me that I have played her insignificant pawn for a long, long time.

It reminds me of those silly women who keep those goofy-looking lap dogs. They lead them around on rhinestone leashes
like little four-legged shadows. That’s how I see myself. I was Jordan’s doting little dog, but the really pathetic part was she didn’t even need a leash for me. I followed her willingly!

Naturally, this whole thing just totally makes me sick now. I think, man, how pitifully desperate I must’ve appeared to everyone all this time. Just faithfully following Jordan around, coming and going at her beck and call. Well, I’ll bet you that none of her cheerleading friends will be like that. It might be time for Jordan to wake up and smell the coffee! I hope she feels bad when she figures it out. I hope she realizes what she lost when she tossed me aside like a worn-out pair of sneakers. I hope she regrets this until the day she dies.

Because I have decided that no matter what Jordan does or says next, I will
not
, I repeat
not
, consider her my best friend ever again. I will not fall for her tricks and deceptions. I will not be duped again. I’m not even sure I can consider her a casual friend anymore. Not after this.

I sneaked a peek at one of Mom’s Oprah magazines in the bathroom this afternoon. They’re not so bad really. In fact, I found an article about friends today, and I can see now that Jordan didn’t have one single quality a person would look for in a lasting friendship. But it makes me wonder why I was so pitifully desperate to hang on to her like that. Why did I think that Jordan Ferguson was the best I could do?

Here’s the truth of it: Jordan has brainwashed me over the years. I think she’s like one of those weird cult leaders, like that Jones guy in South America that we read about in humanities class. He somehow managed to make his followers believe everything he said. Like he was a prophet or God or something. I think that’s what Jordan did to me. It’s like I quit thinking for myself. Like when I met her I
just handed over my brain and said, “Go ahead and do what you like with it.” Sheesh, I make myself sick!

But then I have to ask, what kind of a twisted person would knowingly do that to someone else? What kind of friend would manipulate you for her own personal benefit? It’s scary if you think about it. I guess I should be thankful I got away when I did.

Still, I don’t feel the least bit thankful. I just feel mad, furious, outraged. And I can imagine myself telling Jordan off too. I can just hear myself saying, “Jordan Ferguson, you are such an egomaniac! You are selfish and shallow and narcissistic and vain! I don’t know how I ever believed you were my friend. But I am so glad that I figured it out. I hope you and your new friends are happy together, because I’m sure you all totally deserve each other!” And then I will turn on my heel and just storm off. Ah, that would be such a good feeling.

However, I doubt that I’ll be able to pull it off. So I will have to console myself with my petty little vengeance daydreams. I have several of them now. One of my favorites is set at a pep assembly. I think we’re actually supposed to have one next week. Anyway, I imagine the cheerleaders doing one of those pyramids. Naturally, Jordan, little sprite that she is, will be on top, but as soon as she climbs up there her pyramid will collapse and she will fall flat on her face, maybe even break her cute little nose. Then Amber will stand up and say, in a very loud voice, “Been putting on a little weight, have you, Ferguson?” And the whole school will laugh.

Another one has Jordan walking down the hall at school and she drops a book. She bends over to pick it up and her jeans are so tight that they just split wide open right down the middle, totally exposing her rear end. And she is wearing these ugly granny panties and everyone just stares at her in horror then laughs.

Okay, I do feel a teeny bit of guilt when I harbor such horrendously mean thoughts toward my ex-best friend. But then I simply remind myself, she deserves it!

Before I go to bed I drop hints that I’m not feeling too well. “I think I’m getting a bug or something,” I tell my mom as I make myself a cup of ginger-chamomile tea. (Mom is always trying to get us to drink this awful stuff when we’re sick.)

She puts a hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel like you’re running a fever.”

“She’s got grouchitis,” says Bree, making a face behind Mom’s back.

“Sometimes people get grouchy when they’re sick,” offers my mom.

I take a sip of tea and attempt to look pitiful.

“What is it that’s bothering you?” asks Mom.

“My stomach and my head. I think I’m getting the flu.”

She frowns. “It seems a little early for flu season, but I suppose . . . ”

“She’s just mad that Jordan dumped her,” says Bree in a taunting tone.

“Shut up!” I glare at her, controlling myself from wanting to reach out and really smack my smart-mouthed little sister.

“We don’t say ‘shut up,’” my mom reminds me.

“Well, I wish she would bug off then.”

“Bree, why don’t you go to your room so Kara and I can talk.”

“Yeah, fine, send
me
to my room,” whines Bree. “Like
I’m
the problem here. Well, at least
I
have friends!”

“Bree!” I hear the warning in Mom’s voice, then Bree’s door slams behind her.

I squirt some honey into my tea, stir it, then take another sip.

Mom sits down at a stool by the counter. “What’s the problem, Kara?”

“The problem is that I feel like crud, Mom.” I say this with all the emphasis I can muster, then set my mug down loudly on the countertop and look at her, hoping I look pretty sick.

“But I can tell that something else is going on, Kara. I’m guessing Bree is right. Does this have something to do with Jordan?”

I make a dramatic groaning sound. “Why do you have to keep thinking everything is about Jordan? Sheesh! Yeah, we used to be friends, but we’re not anymore. It’s no big deal, Mom. Get over it.”

She frowns. “I’m not the one making it a problem.”

I hold up my hands. “Well, neither am I. I’m just telling you I feel kind of sick. You’re the one blowing everything out of proportion here.” I know this is a good tactic to distract my mom. I throw whatever it is right back in her face and often it can really confuse things.

“I’m not blowing anything out of proportion, Kara. I’m just trying to figure this out with you.”

I pick up my tea mug and start to walk away now. “The only thing wrong with me is that I feel sick.
Sorry!
I guess no one’s allowed to be sick in this place.”

“That’s not it—”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘it’ is then. But I am going to bed. Goodnight,
Mother.”
We both know that I only call her “Mother” when I’m mad. And I’m mad now. Following my little sister’s example, I too slam my door. Only louder. I feel just slightly sorry for my mom. I know this isn’t her fault. But at the same time I don’t know what makes her think she can fix anything. All I wanted was a little sympathy and permission to stay home tomorrow. Of course, I realize, my mom can’t actually make me go to school if I don’t want to.
And I don’t want to.

I stay up really late. It’s not like I’m doing much of anything, just quietly listening to my Alanis Morissette CD. Jordan can’t stand Alanis, she says all she does is complain, but I happen to like her and relate to her lyrics. Ironically enough, I am also flipping through a stupid
Cosmo
magazine that Jordan left the last time she spent the night, which must’ve been in August shortly before school started. Finally I open the window and close my heating vents, allowing my room to fill with cold air. Then I actually take off my pajamas and lay on my bed until I am shivering. I am thinking perhaps I can catch a cold. I know that colds are really a result of germs, but I’ve also heard that if you get run down or chilled or whatever, you can wear down your resistance to germs and then get sick. That’s what I’m hoping for—either a cold, or if I’m lucky, pneumonia. It would be so perfect if I were to get pneumonia and have to be hospitalized.

I wonder if Jordan would come to visit me in the hospital. I can imagine her coming into my room with a big bouquet of flowers and balloons, maybe even a stuffed rabbit (since she knows how I love bunnies), and she would stand next to my bed and plead and beg for my forgiveness. But I would just turn my head away from her without speaking. Perhaps I might even breathe my last breath while she was standing there. But I wouldn’t forgive her. No way! I would make her suffer for the rest of her life for hurting me like this.

My teeth are chattering like castanets now and I wonder how much longer I can take this form of freezing torture. But then I realize it’s also a pretty good distraction to the cruddy way I feel inside. Maybe it’s worth it. Now, if only I can wake up half dead!

N
O SUCH LUCK
. I
WAKE UP FEELING PERFECTLY FINE
. W
ELL, AT LEAST
physically. I still feel rotten on the inside.

“How are you feeling today?” my mom asks after she cracks open my bedroom door and peeks in.

I am still in bed, tired from staying up so late. “Awful,” I mutter, making my best attempt at looking sick.