me.”
Marica understood first. “He broke up with you too?” she asked.
I swallowed hard. Then I put my phone back in my pocket before I broke down and played it again just to hear his voice. Pathetic, lovesick girls did things like that.
My phone sat in my pocket like a burning piece of charcoal. My head pounded. I waited for Celia to say, “See? I warned you about him. They’re all the same.” But I still had no sense of her being anywhere around.
“Oh, Lin-Lin, I’m so sorry,” Julie murmured, drawing me into her arms. “I’m sorry.”
I let her hug me. She was five inches taller than me, and I closed my eyes and leaned against her.
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Marica protested. “When he confided in me, I practically expected him to propose to you.”
“Maybe Mandy made up some lies about you when he broke up with her,” Julie ventured. “Trashed you because if she couldn’t have him, she didn’t want anyone to have him.”
“But Troy is smart. He would see through that,” Marica said.
Julie patted my back. “He wasn’t smart enough not to go out with Mandy in the first place.”
Maybe she told him that we’re both possessed.
I didn’t want to cry in front of them; I really didn’t. Just as I was on the verge of losing it, the infirmary opened. Ms. Simonet stood there in her puffy coat and gloves, as startled to see us as we were to see her.
“Lindsay,” she said. “I . . . what are you doing out here?”
I still didn’t know if Miles had gotten her permission to spring me, or snuck me out, or what. Tears spilled down my cheeks and I wiped my nose with the back of my glove.
“This guy she likes broke up with her,” Julie said. “On the phone. So she came to see us. And—and she tripped on her way.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.” To my surprise, Ms. Simonet put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lindsay.” She stared at my bandage. “This thing is soaking wet. And you’re bleeding. Let’s go take a look.”
“Thanks for walking me back, guys,” I said, sniffling, wishing I could just disappear. I wanted to be alone, to absorb the shock. All this time, I had assumed that Mandy was all that stood in the way between Troy and me. But I was in the way too. I was my own worst enemy when it came to Troy.
Had Jane been there, she would have laughed at me. To her, guys were accessories—eye candy, arm candy, playthings, status symbols. She had lectured us over and over never to “cave” and actually like a guy. That gave them power over us . . . and we should never give up our power. Except to her, of course. She had even argued that she’d done me a favor by sleeping with Riley, as if it was just a reminder that no boy could be trusted.
Dejected, I followed Ms. Simonet back into the infirmary. She led me into the bathroom and unwound the bandage. There was a big scrape on my forehead. Considering the fall I’d taken off the bike, it was a pretty light injury. Red eyes and a few tears hid the major damage.
She gave me another pat. After she checked my pupils with a light, she had me hold an ice pack against my forehead. I climbed obediently back into bed, head swimming, heart breaking.
And wondering what Miles had seen—or pretended to see—in the middle of the road.
TEN
THE NEXT DAY, Dr. Steinberg examined me and told me that as far as he was concerned, I could resume my normal life. I wanted to tell him I didn’t have one of those, but I nodded and thanked him.
Shortly after he left, Dr. Morehouse stopped in. His expression was a mixture of sympathy and mild disapproval—after all, I’d snuck out—but Ms. Simonet had told him why I’d done it—my wretchedly true cover story—and he had the decency not to ask me how I felt about having my heart ground into the dirt.
“Dr. Steinberg thinks you’re well enough to return to your dorm,” he said, sipping the coffee that “Trina” had brought him. It was early, and my dormies had not yet shown up
Marica understood first. “He broke up with you too?” she asked.
I swallowed hard. Then I put my phone back in my pocket before I broke down and played it again just to hear his voice. Pathetic, lovesick girls did things like that.
My phone sat in my pocket like a burning piece of charcoal. My head pounded. I waited for Celia to say, “See? I warned you about him. They’re all the same.” But I still had no sense of her being anywhere around.
“Oh, Lin-Lin, I’m so sorry,” Julie murmured, drawing me into her arms. “I’m sorry.”
I let her hug me. She was five inches taller than me, and I closed my eyes and leaned against her.
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Marica protested. “When he confided in me, I practically expected him to propose to you.”
“Maybe Mandy made up some lies about you when he broke up with her,” Julie ventured. “Trashed you because if she couldn’t have him, she didn’t want anyone to have him.”
“But Troy is smart. He would see through that,” Marica said.
Julie patted my back. “He wasn’t smart enough not to go out with Mandy in the first place.”
Maybe she told him that we’re both possessed.
I didn’t want to cry in front of them; I really didn’t. Just as I was on the verge of losing it, the infirmary opened. Ms. Simonet stood there in her puffy coat and gloves, as startled to see us as we were to see her.
“Lindsay,” she said. “I . . . what are you doing out here?”
I still didn’t know if Miles had gotten her permission to spring me, or snuck me out, or what. Tears spilled down my cheeks and I wiped my nose with the back of my glove.
“This guy she likes broke up with her,” Julie said. “On the phone. So she came to see us. And—and she tripped on her way.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.” To my surprise, Ms. Simonet put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lindsay.” She stared at my bandage. “This thing is soaking wet. And you’re bleeding. Let’s go take a look.”
“Thanks for walking me back, guys,” I said, sniffling, wishing I could just disappear. I wanted to be alone, to absorb the shock. All this time, I had assumed that Mandy was all that stood in the way between Troy and me. But I was in the way too. I was my own worst enemy when it came to Troy.
Had Jane been there, she would have laughed at me. To her, guys were accessories—eye candy, arm candy, playthings, status symbols. She had lectured us over and over never to “cave” and actually like a guy. That gave them power over us . . . and we should never give up our power. Except to her, of course. She had even argued that she’d done me a favor by sleeping with Riley, as if it was just a reminder that no boy could be trusted.
Dejected, I followed Ms. Simonet back into the infirmary. She led me into the bathroom and unwound the bandage. There was a big scrape on my forehead. Considering the fall I’d taken off the bike, it was a pretty light injury. Red eyes and a few tears hid the major damage.
She gave me another pat. After she checked my pupils with a light, she had me hold an ice pack against my forehead. I climbed obediently back into bed, head swimming, heart breaking.
And wondering what Miles had seen—or pretended to see—in the middle of the road.
TEN
THE NEXT DAY, Dr. Steinberg examined me and told me that as far as he was concerned, I could resume my normal life. I wanted to tell him I didn’t have one of those, but I nodded and thanked him.
Shortly after he left, Dr. Morehouse stopped in. His expression was a mixture of sympathy and mild disapproval—after all, I’d snuck out—but Ms. Simonet had told him why I’d done it—my wretchedly true cover story—and he had the decency not to ask me how I felt about having my heart ground into the dirt.
“Dr. Steinberg thinks you’re well enough to return to your dorm,” he said, sipping the coffee that “Trina” had brought him. It was early, and my dormies had not yet shown up
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