carefully everywhere descending by L.B. Bedford Page B

to impress upon her how weird this is.
    She doesn’t think it’s weird.
    â€œMaybe he’s just shy,” she suggests, peeling an orange and releasing the sweet, tangy aroma.
    â€œOr! Or! Maybe he’s a serial killer .”
    â€œIn that case, you should definitely not be poking around his house,” she says. She offers me a wedge. “Want some?”
    â€œI mean, from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, it’s not like you have the friendliest neighborhood in the world,” she continues as I take a bite out of the orange. “I would just let it rest.”
    I open my mouth to retort along the lines of a mind full of curiosity cannot be so easily sedated when I catch a glimpse of chocolate-brown hair beyond her shoulder in the cafeteria. It’s Scarlett, walking with Serhan and laughing at something he’s saying. I drop my eyes immediately to the half wedge in my hand, the jewellike interior vibrant. I preoccupy myself pulling off tiny pieces of white peel still clinging to the exterior.
    Amber frowns, fishes out her phone, and clicks on her mirror app. She holds it up and pretends to check her teeth while scoping out the scene behind her. It doesn’t take her too long to land on Scarlett.
    â€œOh,” she says sadly, putting her phone back down. “Did you want to talk about it more… tonight?”
    I’d given her the bare-bones account of what happened this morning, after she pleaded with me to come to her house for a second-by-second recap of prom with Steven Chaffee (spoiler alert: they’re now dating, so I’m guessing it went well).
    â€œI don’t want to drag the mood down,” I say. “We should be celebrating the beginning of a new relationship, not the charred remains of one that couldn’t even get off the ground.”
    â€œI want to hear all about it,” she says firmly, so, when it’s 5:00 p.m. and I recline on the floor in her room, propped up by her bright yellow beanbag, I recount the whole tale. She’s very sympathetic. She hasn’t urged me to put on my party dress and get out there, because she knows I never do either anyway.
    â€œJust get back to being you,” she advises. “Forget about her. Before you know it, there will be another girl who catches your eye.”
    â€œSure,” I say.
    â€œNo, I’m serious. I think this was an awakening for you. You weren’t interested in girls before, any girls, and I think this is the start of you being interested. Scarlett is gorgeous, there’s no way to get around that, but I bet you’ll start seeing how nice-looking other girls in our class are as well. What about Annie McCormick?”
    I make a face before I can help myself. Amber laughs. “Okay. I’m not going to force anyone on you. Just… don’t get too down.”
    â€œYou’re doing everything but saying, ‘There are other fish in the sea,’” I say.
    She throws her hands in the air. “I was! I was! I promised myself I wouldn’t use clichés!”
    â€œI appreciate that,” I say with a smile.
    â€œBut more important,” Amber says seriously, “you were fine before Scarlett and before being interested in girls. You found hard work and purpose and goals fulfilling. Those are things that will never go away, regardless of who you’re interested in or dating. I understand that you hurt now, but you have so much else in your life.”
    I’m quiet for a moment.
    â€œI think you’re the smartest person I know, Amber,” I finally say. “But seriously, enough about me. Tell me about Steven.”
    Amber swoons dramatically back on the bed.
    â€œSteven is heavenly ,” she says. “He picked me up in his dad’s car , and he gave me a corsage….”
    She lives up to her promise and goes beat by beat through the night. It’s immensely entertaining, and I’m genuinely