Lie for Me by Romily Bernard

soft underside to clean her palm. The stuff’s disgusting and I have to turn the jacket twice to get her skin clean. Wick’s face never changes, never betrays anything she might be feeling.
    Her pulse does though. It speeds under my fingertips.
    â€œYou must have cared a little,” I say, concentrating on her palm so I don’t have to pay attention to the heat spreading through my stomach. “Or you wouldn’t have started anything.”
    â€œOh, please.” My thumb presses into her lifeline and Wick jerks, snatching her hand away. “As if I ever needed an excuse to run my mouth.”
    True. It’s one of the sexiest things about her . . . that and how she’s looking at me like I don’t affect her, like her heartbeat isn’t thumping. We’re so close I can see her pulse tapping at the thin skin of her throat.
    What would happen if I could convince Wick to let herself go?
    I force my eyes to hers. Get it together, Griffin . This is another real conversation—the second in two days. I’m not going to blow it. “So what’d you do?”
    â€œI called Jenna Maxwell a bitch.”
    â€œSeriously?”
    She smiles—actually it isn’t a smile, it’s an eff you —and suddenly, we’re back to where we were last week. Hell, we’re back to where we’ve always been, like the stuff that happened before never existed. I’m not letting her off that easy.
    â€œI want to know, Wick. Why would you even bother?”
    â€œBecause someone had to say it.” She glances away—to the Dumpster, to the school, to her shoes. “She’s telling everyone Tessa’s going to go to hell because she committed suicide.”
    It’s barely above a whisper and still nails me in the gut. I pause. Maybe we’re not back to where we were. Wick’s not looking at me, but she is confiding in me. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better, but the asshole inside me is damn happy she’s talking to me about more than homework assignments.
    I ease closer. “Then she’s an idiot. I’m sorry about what she said though. People are stupid, thoughtless. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”
    â€œI want to know if Tessa saw the same things my mom saw. I want to know if she came to the same conclusion—if they both did. I mean she must have, right?”
    Her voice catches and we both go still. I’m not good with tears, but for this girl, I’d try.
    Wick takes a quick breath, attention pinned to the horizon. “How can we all just keep swimming along when some of us are drowning? How can we not know ?”
    I try to think of some comforting answer and come up with nothing. All I can think about is my dad’s desertion and my mom’s implosion. Sometimes knowing doesn’t matter. It definitely doesn’t help you move on.
    You can’t keep people from hitting the ground if they’re determined to jump. Everyone has a death wish. It’s just a matter of how they want to go, but that doesn’t stop some of us from trying to save them. It’s like an effing curse and it makes you feel so alone . . . until you find someone else who’s living through the same hell.
    I don’t know how to say that though, because this is Wick, the girl who has no feelings, and she’s disintegrating right in front of me.
    â€œBecause you can’t save them all,” I say at last. “But sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can save one.”
    I’m not sure how it happened, but Wick’s drifted closer. Our sleeves are brushing and, carefully, I put one arm around her shoulders and, yeah, her hair smells like garbage, but when she finally leans into me, it might be the best feeling ever.
    I duck my head, cheek touching her temple. “Sometimes you have to save yourself by asking for help.”
    Wick stays so still, like she’d let me hold her forever