go in.”
“What? Why?”
“I just don’t. I can’t.”
Saskia looked at me for a bit. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
She paused. “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Eating always helps when I feel nauseous. Burritos are especially soothing.”
I turned the ignition and rolled down my window. “Burritos? Really?”
“Bean and cheese. Trust me.” She picked her phone out of her purse. “You want me to call this guy and cancel?”
“Call him,” I said, passing her his card then pulling a quick U-turn.
We sped back toward Sunset, stopping at Pepe’s on our way to the beach. Saskia bought me a bean and cheese burrito and a potato taco for herself.
I ate my burrito in the car.
The beach with Saskia was different from the beach with Paul. It felt more like the beach had felt with my mom when I was a kid. We lay on our backs in the sand. Clothes on, shoes off. We made sand angels.
“Do you regret leaving?” she asked me, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.
I thought about it. “I feel relieved.”
“Relieved, really?” She turned onto her side.
I shrugged, picking up a handful of sand.
Saskia didn’t say anything for a while, then said, finally, “I’m glad you asked me, anyway.”
I looked at her.
“I mean I’m glad you called.”
I grinned. I dug some sand out from beneath my thumbnail.
“My brother,” she said, looking down. “He has this … kind of
issue
with depression.” She picked at her cuticles.
“Oh.”
“And when you told me about the psychic I kind of wondered how I’d feel knowing my own destiny. Or knowing Sean’s destiny. Like if I knew he’d be fine one day? Maybe then I could relax and stop worrying. Seems so nice, not having to worry.” She lay back down. “It’s like my
dream
,” she said, which made me feel really sad.
“Has he always been like that? Depressed?”
She nodded. “He’s always been medicated. But lately he’s just been extra bad. He hides stuff… .” She took a breath. “It all sounds so dramatic, I know.”
I watched her for a while as she drilled her finger into a little hole in the sand. Drilling and
drilling
and then she pulled her finger back and flicked a few stray grains of sand out from under her pinkie nail. She looked so ladylike doingit too. And she must have felt me watching her because suddenly she was peering up, asking, “What?! What’s wrong?” So I said, “Nothing,” and she just made a face at me, then went back to picking her cuticles.
I thought about Paul. Then about Paul and Saskia together. He wasn’t with her because she’d
break
if they broke up. It wasn’t because her brother was crazy or because she couldn’t survive on her own. Being with her had nothing to do with some misguided sense of moral obligation. He was with her because he loved her. Of course, and who wouldn’t?
I
loved her. It was sudden and unexpected but it was true.
I would trade him for her,
I thought.
In an instant
.
I slid my hand over the stiff material of my jeans. I felt happy. Grateful. I’d lose a boy but I’d gain a friend. The choice was clear.
Paul had to go.
Chapter 23
At first, I didn’t really do anything different. I just stopped paying attention to him. Every time I thought about him I’d think about
her
instead. What I’d be losing if I continued to see him—a real friend. One that I didn’t share a tool shed with. Or feed Snausages to after school.
So when Paul didn’t look at me when we passed each other in the hall on Monday, I tried not to care. And when Tuesday came and went without a visit to my bed, I danced around my bedroom to Mom’s albums instead.
On Wednesday, though, Wednesday he was out by my car, waiting for me in the school parking lot after gym. “Hi,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
“Aren’t you scared someone might see?” I
“What? Why?”
“I just don’t. I can’t.”
Saskia looked at me for a bit. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
She paused. “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Eating always helps when I feel nauseous. Burritos are especially soothing.”
I turned the ignition and rolled down my window. “Burritos? Really?”
“Bean and cheese. Trust me.” She picked her phone out of her purse. “You want me to call this guy and cancel?”
“Call him,” I said, passing her his card then pulling a quick U-turn.
We sped back toward Sunset, stopping at Pepe’s on our way to the beach. Saskia bought me a bean and cheese burrito and a potato taco for herself.
I ate my burrito in the car.
The beach with Saskia was different from the beach with Paul. It felt more like the beach had felt with my mom when I was a kid. We lay on our backs in the sand. Clothes on, shoes off. We made sand angels.
“Do you regret leaving?” she asked me, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.
I thought about it. “I feel relieved.”
“Relieved, really?” She turned onto her side.
I shrugged, picking up a handful of sand.
Saskia didn’t say anything for a while, then said, finally, “I’m glad you asked me, anyway.”
I looked at her.
“I mean I’m glad you called.”
I grinned. I dug some sand out from beneath my thumbnail.
“My brother,” she said, looking down. “He has this … kind of
issue
with depression.” She picked at her cuticles.
“Oh.”
“And when you told me about the psychic I kind of wondered how I’d feel knowing my own destiny. Or knowing Sean’s destiny. Like if I knew he’d be fine one day? Maybe then I could relax and stop worrying. Seems so nice, not having to worry.” She lay back down. “It’s like my
dream
,” she said, which made me feel really sad.
“Has he always been like that? Depressed?”
She nodded. “He’s always been medicated. But lately he’s just been extra bad. He hides stuff… .” She took a breath. “It all sounds so dramatic, I know.”
I watched her for a while as she drilled her finger into a little hole in the sand. Drilling and
drilling
and then she pulled her finger back and flicked a few stray grains of sand out from under her pinkie nail. She looked so ladylike doingit too. And she must have felt me watching her because suddenly she was peering up, asking, “What?! What’s wrong?” So I said, “Nothing,” and she just made a face at me, then went back to picking her cuticles.
I thought about Paul. Then about Paul and Saskia together. He wasn’t with her because she’d
break
if they broke up. It wasn’t because her brother was crazy or because she couldn’t survive on her own. Being with her had nothing to do with some misguided sense of moral obligation. He was with her because he loved her. Of course, and who wouldn’t?
I
loved her. It was sudden and unexpected but it was true.
I would trade him for her,
I thought.
In an instant
.
I slid my hand over the stiff material of my jeans. I felt happy. Grateful. I’d lose a boy but I’d gain a friend. The choice was clear.
Paul had to go.
Chapter 23
At first, I didn’t really do anything different. I just stopped paying attention to him. Every time I thought about him I’d think about
her
instead. What I’d be losing if I continued to see him—a real friend. One that I didn’t share a tool shed with. Or feed Snausages to after school.
So when Paul didn’t look at me when we passed each other in the hall on Monday, I tried not to care. And when Tuesday came and went without a visit to my bed, I danced around my bedroom to Mom’s albums instead.
On Wednesday, though, Wednesday he was out by my car, waiting for me in the school parking lot after gym. “Hi,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
“Aren’t you scared someone might see?” I
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