The After Girls by Leah Konen Page A

hands behind her shoulders, and she was being lifted up. She was sitting on a bench in the back office of the café. Claire pushed a glass of water at her.
    She took it.
    “What happened?” Claire asked. Everything still sounded kind of tunnel-y.
    “You were just standing at the register, and then you fell,” Jake said, and she remembered, and she felt the whole night full of dreams, and then there was Astrid, peeking at her, from the back corners of her mind.
    “How do you feel?” Claire asked.
    “Alright,” Ella said.
    “You should go home. Becky’s here now, and Jake can drive you.”
    • • •
    It was the second time in two days she left Trail Mix early.
    “Have you ever fainted before?” Jake asked as they pulled out of the lot.
    “No,” she said, shaking her head. The music in the car was soft and melodic — meandering. She’d expected something different, more like the stuff Ben listened to. Old classic rock or new hip-hop or country. Like most guys she knew listened to. This actually sounded like something Sydney would have liked.
    “Huh,” he said, drumming his hand against the wheel. “You just like wiped out in there.”
    “I’m aware,” she said, scooting herself down further in the seat. Her head still felt a little woozy.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just worried about you.”
    “You keep saying that,” she said. She tried to laugh but it didn’t come out right. “You barely know me.”
    Jake turned the music down. “Well I haven’t known you that long,” he said. “But under intimate circumstances, to say the least.”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I guess.”
    In moments they were at her house. Jake pulled into the drive.
    “You want me to come inside for a bit?”
    He looked so warm and open, and he was right, they did know each other in the most unusual, intimate, horrible of ways. She almost wanted to say yes. He could prevent her from going to sleep and going back into the cabin for the hundredth time.
    But her mom must have heard the car. She was already running out the door and up to the window. “My God, baby, are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” she said. She opened the door and stepped out slowly. Her mom’s arm was instantly around her, leading her to the house. Behind her, she heard Jake’s car start. She turned to say thank you, but he was already backing up and pulling away.
    • • •
    Her mom had ordered bed rest, but she couldn’t bear the thought of sleep. So she opened her computer, went to Astrid’s page, checked her post for the millionth time.
Nothing.
    Even lying down she felt dizzy, from the heat or the dream she couldn’t tell.
    I miss you, too.
    She wouldn’t post again — it was too public. Too desperate. She hadn’t told anyone what she’d seen, and she didn’t want to until she had something more — something to show.
    So she clicked on the message button on the top of the screen.
    The little box was there in an instant, beckoning her.
    Hi. I’m here.
    It was silly — childish — crazy to think that Astrid would, that Astrid
could
.
    Ella stopped. She could hit cancel now, forget about the rest of it. She could party with Sydney and make out with Ben and cry and grieve and just try to move on.
    But she didn’t want to.
    So she held her finger over the button, took a deep breath, and clicked send before she could lose her nerve.

CHAPTER SIX
    When Sydney woke up the next morning, she could smell the strong aroma of veggie bacon coming from downstairs. She wiped her hands across her eyes and stretched. She hadn’t slept well. She hadn’t
been
sleeping well. There’d been no dreams, at least none that she could remember. But she’d tossed, waking up what felt like every few minutes.
    Now she was fully awake. She was tired. And everything was inescapable. She wanted to go back to sleep and forget about things, but even sleep seemed like work.
    She couldn’t stop thinking about Ella.