Bang by Lisa McMann

She
    waves at the screen.
    “Hey, Ro,” the woman says. She’s wearing designer
    workout clothes drenched in sweat but still somehow
    manages to look gorgeous and radiant. “Who’s this?”
    I wave weakly. “Hi, um, I’m Rowan’s sister.”
    “Oh, Jules. Cool—heard a lot about you.”
I nod and smile. So it seems .
“We’re excited to see Rowan again. Thank your mom

    and dad for us—I left a message the other day but I know
    they’re really busy.”

    I glance at Rowan as her face turns red. The little weasel erased it, I’ll bet.
Mrs. Banks continues. “We’ll be waiting at Baggage
    Claim, and it’s a direct flight so there’s no way she’ll get
    stranded somewhere. Just follow the signs to Baggage
    Claim, hon.”
“And I’ll call you when I land,” Rowan says, like
    they’ve rehearsed this.
“And me,” I say.
“Yes, I’ll call you, too.”
Charlie gives his mom a look, and she waves. “Okay,
    gotta go. See you Sunday.”
Rowan calls out her good-bye, and she and Charlie
    share a private joke I don’t get, and they’re all just . . .
    carefree and having fun, and the biggest stress weighing
    on them is wondering if rain will delay the flight.
I sit back in my chair, working my fingers through a
    tangle in my hair, and just watch them. And I can’t wait
    to have so few worries. I can’t wait to have fun again. I
    can’t wait to have that kind of light, easy banter with the
    guy I love.
After a while I excuse myself to let them do their
    mushy talk in private, ahem. On the walk back to class, I
    find myself wondering if something horrible will happen
    while Rowan is gone. Worrying that my parents won’t
    know where to find her or how to contact her. I clench my
    jaw and force the thought away. Because that can’t happen.
    It can’t and it won’t.
My stomach hurts.
Twenty-Four
    At lunch we don’t talk about anything much.
    We all just sort of sit there feeling glum. Sawyer holds his
    spoon in front of him, staring at it.

    “It’s in your spoon?” I ask.

    He nods. “It’s upside down, though, because of the
    scientific nature of spoon reflections or whatever.”
Trey grunts like he knows what that’s called, but he
    doesn’t offer up a term, and I don’t care enough at this
    moment to put forth the effort to ask. Instead I ask the
    broken-record question, “Do you see anything new?”
“Actually . . .” Sawyer trails off and keeps looking at
    the spoon. “Hm.”
I sit up, watching him, and Trey raises an eyebrow.
“It’s weird,” Sawyer says. “My eyes focus on different
    parts of it than they did before. I think . . . I think . . .”
Roxie and BFF Sarah come up to the table. “Admiring
    your reflection?” Roxie asks. Her neck scratch is practically gone. Mine are still ugly. They stay hidden under my collar.
Sawyer doesn’t look up, so Roxie sticks her boobs out,
    being way obvious, and I almost laugh at how stupid it
    is to do that, like a peacock making sure everybody sees
    his feathers. Only they’re not beautiful, colorful feathers,
    they’re just boobs. Trey actually does laugh, in a snorty
    fashion, and he rolls his eyes. But he can get away with
    that. He’s a senior. He has nothing to fear from her.
Sawyer turns his head and looks at Roxie’s boobs, seeing as how they’re practically in his face, and, well, because he’s a guy. He wears a slightly bewildered look and then
    raises his eyes to meet Roxie’s. “Oh, hey,” he mumbles.
    “What’s up?” He scoots his chair over so he doesn’t actually get an eye poked out, and he glances at me with a worried expression like he thinks I might punch him in
    the face.
Body language is so interesting, isn’t it? We’re learning
    about it in Mr. Polselli’s class. I observe. Roxie takes the
    tiniest step back and her shoulders relax. “Not much. Just
    haven’t seen you in a while.” The boobs deflate slightly,
    which makes me stop worrying about one of them accidentally bursting. And neither Roxie nor