Love You Hate You Miss You (7 page)

Patrick shrugged. “The same.” Two years ago, when Patrick had just moved to town and was a new star at school, super smart and an athlete all the jocks, even the seniors, were talking about, his dad had a stroke at the carnival. He’d almost died. I’d forgotten all about it.

“People forget stuff like that,” Patrick said, and in his eyes I could see he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. What I’d just remembered. “Stuff that…something happens that changes your whole life, and people tell you how sorry they are and all that, but then, after a while, it’s like you’re the only one who remembers. It’ll happen to you too. People will forget what happened to Julia. They’ll forget her.”

“I won’t.”

“No,” he said. “You won’t. Even if you want to forget, you’ll remember. I can still see my dad’s face. He was mad about how much it cost to get in, kept talking about
it. People were staring. I wasn’t listening, wanted to go find my friends, and then he sort of…he just gave me this look. This weird look, like he didn’t know me, like he didn’t know anything, and then he was on the ground…” Patrick stopped talking. He looked like he was back there, like he was trapped in one horrible moment. I know what that feels like.

“The movie made you think about it, didn’t it?”

He laughed, and I was sorry I’d said anything because his laugh didn’t sound like a laugh at all. It sounded like pain.

“Everything makes me think about it. I know it shouldn’t. He didn’t die. He’s still alive; he’s doing okay, learning how to walk again and stuff, so really, I’m pretty damn lucky. I shouldn’t be so…I shouldn’t be out here, hiding. I should be okay.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. It’s the truth.” He wrapped his arms around his legs again. “Do you miss the person you were before she died?”

“I…No.” I did, though. I do. I thought things were hard before but they weren’t. I never knew how lucky I was until it was too late.

He looked at me again. He didn’t say anything but his eyes were easy to read. In them I saw he was calling me a
liar without ever saying a word. Laurie would love him.

“It wouldn’t matter if I did,” I said sharply. “It’s not like I can go back.”

“If you could, though? If you could go back and change things a little, make it so Julia would live, would—?”

“You can’t say things like that. You shouldn’t…you can’t think like that.” I stood up, shaking. “I don’t think like that.”

“Amy?”

It was Dad. I looked behind me and saw him standing a few feet away, on the lit part of the sidewalk. He looked worried.

I forced myself to smile. His expression relaxed a little, and I knew Patrick was right about one thing. Everyone needed me to be okay.

“You’re right,” Patrick said as I walked away. He was talking quietly but I heard him. “You can’t go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can.”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t look back. I walked over to Dad and followed him to the car. When I got in I fiddled with the radio so I could have something to do. So I could pull myself together. I told Dad Patrick was no one when he asked, said he was just a guy in one of my classes who’d asked about homework while I was waiting for Dad to come get me. I said, “No, I’m fine, I’m just not
ready to go out yet,” when Dad asked me if I was okay. I said, “I promise, I would tell you if something was bothering me,” when he asked again.

I could see Patrick in the side mirror as we drove away. He was looking at me. He was just a shadow, dark against dark, but I saw him.

114 days

Julia, you—

You knew.

It’s 4:00 a.m., and I’m sitting on the bathroom floor. It took me forever to fall asleep because everything Patrick said was rolling around in my head, but I did. I fell asleep and woke up shaking from a dream that wasn’t one, from the memory of your open eyes staring unseeing into mine.

I’m sorry for what I did, and you know that, right? You have to know that. But J, did you—

You knew, didn’t you?

That night, the one where you didn’t want to leave Kevin at that party, you knew what that guy did. I know what you said at the hospital really meant now, J. Why didn’t you say anything that night? Why?

No.

You didn’t know.

You couldn’t have known. You were wrapped up in Kevin, desperate to be with him, but you were going to take me home. You said you would. You got rid of that guy for me. You might have seen something, but it wasn’t enough to make you sure of anything, and if you had, you would have said something.

You didn’t know.

Right?

I hate Laurie for this. I want my memory of waking up and seeing you in the hospital unchanged. I don’t want to think there was a shadow in your eyes. I don’t want to think that when you hugged me before I went home and said you were scared, you meant something else. I don’t want to think you meant you were sorry.

But, Julia, I know you, and “sorry” was a word you were never able to say. Did you—is that what you were trying to say?

I don’t want to think about this anymore.

I DIDN’T EVEN MAKE IT
to school today.

Well, I did, but only for a little while.

I was pretty tired when I got there this morning. I haven’t been sleeping that well, not since—well, not since I wrote to Julia after Friday night.

I know Julia didn’t know exactly what that guy did, but it just…it’s there, in my head, and it won’t go away.

At school, I forgot to take the long way to my locker and ended up passing hers. I tried not to notice it, but of course I did. I hate what they’ve done to it so much.

Mel walked by as I was opening my locker. I pretended I didn’t see him, but he slowed down and said, “Hey, Amy.” He was with Patrick, who was (as usual) staring at the floor. When I looked over at them Mel waved and then nudged Patrick, who looked up from
his inspection of the floor long enough to briefly meet my eyes.

When he did, I thought of all the stuff he’d said at the movies. I thought about what I’d realized afterward. My heart started thumping fast, beating so hard I could feel it. My locker looked like it was really far away even though I had one hand resting on it, and I knew I had to leave school. I wasn’t ready for it. I had to get away, go somewhere and just…shut off my brain or something. I could go home, lie in bed with the covers pulled up over my head.

I could go home and scrounge up some money, then go out and find something to drink. I knew all the places Julia went to get stuff for me. I could do it on my own.

After all, hadn’t I made it so that’s how things had to be?

I shut my locker, slamming it closed with one fist, and headed toward the exit at the end of the hall. Giggles was standing there, mouth puckered like she’d had two lemons shoved in it, nodding at something a teacher was saying and glaring at anyone who tried to get near the door. I turned back around and ducked into the bathroom, figuring Giggles would toddle off when the bell rang. Once the bell rang I could leave.

Once the bell rang I had to leave.

I passed Mel again on my way to the bathroom. He said something to me. I nodded like I’d heard him. I didn’t, though. The only thing I wanted to hear was the bell.

The bathroom was empty. Giggles must have passed through earlier and cleared everyone out. I tapped a fist—I couldn’t seem to unknot my fingers—against the paper towel dispenser and hoped the bell would ring soon. The door slammed open and Caro came in. She looked like she was trying to look bored, but instead she just looked upset.

“Mel asked me to come in here to see if you were okay.”

I ignored her.

“Fine, I’m going. I’m sure he’ll be in here in thirty seconds anyway. And just so you know, ignoring him apologizing for Friday to make him feel bad isn’t going to make him like you or anything. He’s just being nice because he’s, well, Mel. Everyone else knows exactly who—and what—you are.”

I looked at her. She should have looked angry. What she said sure was angry. And she did look a little pissed off. Mostly, though, she looked anxious.

She was glancing around like Beth might be lurking in the corner, waiting to get mad because what she’d just
said hadn’t been preapproved. It was so stupid. She was so stupid. She was afraid to be angry without Beth’s permission.

I walked over to her and watched her look around anxiously again. Such a stupid sheep. “He doesn’t like me, you moron. He likes you, and if you’d get your head out of your ass for five seconds you’d realize that, and then the two of you could stop acting like you’re in some crap romantic comedy where you have to argue before you get together and just do it already.”

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes got all watery, but she didn’t say a word. I pushed past her, the damn bell finally ringing as I headed into the hall and then out of school.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just said. I never said stuff like that. Julia said stuff like that, and I wished I could. It didn’t feel as great as I thought it would, but at least I wasn’t going to have to deal with anyone for a while.

A while turned out to be maybe two minutes. I didn’t even make it off the school grounds. I didn’t even make it to the stupid planters by the parking lot before Caro grabbed my arm—hard—and yanked me around to face her.

“I really hate you,” she said, or at least I think she did. It was hard to tell because she was crying.

I pulled away from her and kept walking, crossing the parking lot and finally leaving school. Corn Syrup’s feelings were hurt? Boo-hoo. I was so going to go home, find some money, and then find a drink. Or many drinks.

The weird thing was, I kept hearing her cry. Even when I was cutting through the neighborhood that’s full of old people and little yappy dogs, I could still hear her.

I turned around after I passed an old guy who almost backed into me with his big-ass car, and she was walking behind me, still crying. I stopped walking. She did too. We just sort of stared at each other, and I guess the look on my face must have been something because she stopped crying long enough to say, “Look, I don’t know what I’m doing here, okay?”

She sounded so miserable, so lost, that all the stuff about Julia and everything else that was clawing inside me, scratching me raw and making me desperate for a drink—it stilled. Because what she said and how she said it…it was how I felt too. How I always feel.

I don’t know why I’m here either, except that it’s what I deserve and that—I know it’s right, but I’m so lost without Julia. So lonely.

I guess maybe that’s why I ended up going to Caro’s house. She didn’t ask me, exactly, just said, “I’m going home. If you want to…”

We walked there in silence. I remembered her living all the way at the edge of town but apparently she moved and now lives about ten blocks from the high school. I hadn’t known that, but then I never thought about Caro after me and Julia became friends, except for the occasional middle school flashback when I was nervous, and in those, Caro was always the shadow behind Beth, her little puppet.

I thought things hadn’t changed much, but Caro is different now. Sort of. For instance, the whole…whatever thing at school.

And then, when we got to her house, I found out she’s a vegetarian too.

“You want something to eat?” she said when we walked in. “I don’t do meat, but my parents do if you want a sandwich or something.”

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t—I don’t eat meat either.”

“Cheese?”

“What?” I said, and she grinned, just a little.

“Do you eat cheese?”

I nodded, and we ended up making grilled cheese sandwiches and eating them while we watched TV. It should have been weird, the whole sandwich thing (plus the being-at-her-house thing) but it wasn’t. It didn’t
feel normal, but it felt okay. And it definitely felt a lot better than being at school.

I was almost done with my sandwich when she cleared her throat and said, “You know, I wish I was tall, like you.”

I faked a smile while I ate my last crust and flashbacked to her and Beth and Anne Alice calling me “skyscraper” in fourth grade, but she said, “No, Amy, seriously. I would love it.”

“Yeah, it’s a joy trying to find jeans and having the legs end around your shins. Or knees.”

“But you totally stand out. Even when we were kids you did. People would always talk about how tall you were, like a model, and how pretty your hair was and—”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Come on. Remember when we went to the aquarium and everyone we saw kept saying you had beautiful hair?”

“All I remember is the bus ride home.” Stuff being rubbed in my hair, giggles filling my ears. It was so hard not to cry, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t let myself. I just sat there and hoped it would be over soon.

I was sure she’d be all “What do you mean?” about it but she muttered, “Yeah,” and then said, “You just sat
there. If you’d just turned around and said something, anything, then maybe—”

“Beth would have told everyone to put more crap in my hair?”

“No, I would have…yeah, okay. She would have said that, and we would have done it. Beth was—she is—”

“A bitch?”

“Yeah,” Caro said, and then looked horrified. “I mean—she’s not, not really. She’s my best friend and…” She sighed. “Who am I kidding? She’s a total bitch. She knows I like Mel—how, I don’t know, because I didn’t tell her. But it doesn’t matter. She’s decided she likes him, and Beth always gets what she wants.”

“Not always,” I said, but I was lying. Girls like Beth do always get what they want. It’s like an unwritten law or something. And I could tell from the way Caro was looking at me that she knew I was lying too.

“I keep hoping she’ll get bored and go after someone else,” she said. “Dating Mel means hanging out with Patrick, and she really doesn’t like him. He’s so…well, he’s so quiet, it’s kind of freaky.”

“Because he’s quiet?”

“He’s not ordinary quiet, you know? He’s just…always quiet. Didn’t you see him disappear at the movies on Friday? Or maybe you’d already left before he did?”

When I didn’t say anything she shrugged. “Anyway, after his dad’s stroke he had to help out because his parents are pretty old, and he ended up missing a lot of school. He made it all up, or whatever, but I guess what happened to his dad messed him up because when he came back he just…he wasn’t the same.”

“How?” I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

“He didn’t talk to his friends. He didn’t talk to anyone, and I think if Mel hadn’t just assumed that when he talked, Patrick would talk back, he might never have spoken to anyone again. It’s like just being there is difficult for him, and not because it’s school and we’re all sick of it. I think something about being around a lot of people—or anyone, really—bothers him. Weird, huh?”

“His dad had a stroke at a carnival, remember? Lots of people around.”

“Right, I forgot. That makes sense. I guess it explains why he left the movie too. There was that thing at the beginning, with the old guy…”

“I remember,” I said, and thought about Patrick sitting outside the movie theater. Where he was sitting. How he was sitting. What he said. How he knew exactly what it was like to be a totally different person even though you looked exactly the same.

“It’s too bad, you know?” Caro said. “What happened to him, I mean. He was totally someone once. He did stuff. But now he doesn’t do anything. I couldn’t believe he was at the movies, actually. Mel must have dragged him there.”

“Maybe,” I said, even though I was sure he had.

“I’ve seen Patrick at two parties, maybe, in the past couple of years, and he always leaves after, like, ten minutes and goes and waits for Mel to drive him home. It’s just so sad how some people totally get messed up when someone…” She trailed off. “Not that you’re…I mean, everyone’s messed up, aren’t they?”

I made an agreeing noise and tried to remember if there was a crosstown bus stop nearby. Corn Syrup attempting to do deep? I definitely didn’t need that.

“I mean, look at me,” she continued. “I’m afraid to talk to a guy I really like because my best friend, who I hate to the point where I imagine her getting hit by a car at least twice at day, has decided she might want him.”

“Well, you could—never mind.” I got up. Bus stop or no bus stop, I was out of there. The last thing I needed to do was hang around and point out the obvious.

“What?”

I sighed, because really, for a supposedly smart person, she sure was dumb. “Beth treats you like crap, right?”

Caro shrugged.

“So stop hanging out with her.”

“Oh, right. Great idea, because high school is totally the best place to do something that will make sure I have absolutely no friends.”

I hadn’t known Caro could do sarcasm. I sat back down.

“You know, it was easy for you to ditch Beth, but then you had Julia. I’ve never had someone like that, who would stand up for me no matter what. You were so lucky, Amy.”

Were. Past tense. I stood back up. “Look, I gotta—”

“I hated her, you know. Ever since that party when we were in sixth grade—”

“Yeah, so sorry you got called on your shit.”

“Like I was the only one doing stuff to you,” Caro said quietly. “But that’s not even it. You basically stopped talking to me after you met her. You just—you acted like we’d never been friends.”

“We were never friends. You and Beth and Anne Alice were friends.”

“Beth and Anne Alice were friends. Do you know how awful my life would be if Anne Alice hadn’t moved to Los Angeles two years ago? They treated me just like you, Amy, only I had to deal with it for a hell of a lot longer.
Don’t you remember what they did to me at my tenth birthday party? Or how about the time in fourth grade when you, Anne Alice, and Beth formed a secret club when I was out with chicken pox?”

“Nope.” I hadn’t remembered, anyway, until she said it. And then I did. I remembered Beth and Anne Alice showing up in matching sweaters at Caro’s birthday party and talking about what a great sleepover they’d had while Caro unwrapped her gifts.

I remembered that stupid club and how excited I was to be in it. I totally ignored all the notes Caro sent when she got back asking for a hint about the club name and begging me to talk to Beth and Anne Alice for her. Instead, I laughed with them about how badly she wanted to get in.

“Of course you don’t remember. I mean, why should you care that the last conversation I had with a real friend was about Chester, and how he was really sick and I was afraid he was going to die? Your coat’s over on that chair, by the way, and the bus stop is two blocks over.”

I stopped walking across the room. “What do you want me to say, Caro? I’m sorry I wasn’t more help when we discussed your sick dog. I was eleven. I didn’t have a degree in grief counseling.”

“God, you are so stupid. It’s not what you said, Amy. It’s the fact that the last time I talked to someone I could really call a friend was when I was eleven years old.”

“Oh.”

Caro rolled her eyes at me and got up, grabbed my jacket, and shoved it at me. “Here.”

“Look, I’m—I just—” I looked at Caro, who was staring back at me, her mouth a thin angry line. “You never said anything to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess after you and Julia told me off I should have come up to you and said, ‘Hey, Amy, I totally miss hanging out with you.’ Please. You and Julia would have made me cry again and loved it.”