“Stop apologizing. Come on,” Avery said, linking her elbow with mine. “I’ll wait with you until your friends get here.”
I let her lead me to the door.
This day still royally sucked, but it had some bright spots—some bright people, who were watching out for me and helping me to keep moving—and that was something. Maybe I wasn’t alone after all.
Chapter 5
“Why are you home already?” my sister, Jemma, asked as little pieces of potato chips fell from her mouth.
“You’re disgusting,” I told her.
She was sitting on the floor in front of the TV, a giant bag of Lay’s to her left, a two-liter bottle of Coke in front of her, and boxes of Swedish Fish, M&M’s, and Twizzlers to her right. If she kept this up, there was a good chance my parents would make me start staying home to babysit her again.
“And you’re not supposed to be here.” She looked from me to Avery and back again. “Weren’t you supposed to be hanging out with Marc?” Her nose scrunched up as she scrutinized what had to be my red-rimmed eyes. “Where is he?”
“Dead,” I said, expressionless.
Her eyes widened to about twice their size. “What! Oh my God. What happened?”
“Relax—”
“How can I relax?” She jumped up, cutting me off before I could explain. “He’s dead!”
“Oh my God.” I shook my head. Obviously, I wasn’t being serious. She had to know that. “Will you calm down? He’s not dead dead. He’s dead to me.”
Jemma crossed her arms, and one single, surely fabricated tear dripped down her cheek. “That wasn’t funny, Caaaammmrrrryyyyynnnn.” She dragged out the syllables in my name for what felt like half an eternity. And everyone thought I was the dramatic one? They clearly did not spend enough time with my little sister. “You don’t joke about things like that. It’s not funny. At. All. Think how you’d feel if something actually happened to him.” Then she stormed off in a huff, her frizzy reddish-brown hair, identical to mine, whipping around her.
“I’m sorry!” I yelled out after her. Even though I knew she was just reacting for show, I still felt guilty. Great, another thing to feel bad about.
I picked up her stash of snacks. “Regretting your decision to come over?” I asked Avery.
“Nah, I’m sure I was worse to my big brother when I was her age.”
“I doubt it.” I nodded toward the steps. “Let’s go upstairs. Jemma will be back down soon, and I can’t deal with her right now.”
I led the way to my room.
“Whoa,” Avery said as she stepped inside.
“Oh,” I said, following her gaze. “That’s my picture wall.”
“I can see that,” she said, walking over to it.
There were hundreds of photos taped there. I was all for posting on social media, but there was something about a physical picture that I loved. I’d started the collage when I moved to Brooksvale in second grade, to remember everyone I left back in Shaker Heights, Ohio. But in the many years since, images of Terri, Grace, me—and Marc—pretty much ruled the wall.
As Avery looked over the pictures hanging by my desk, I climbed onto my bed and studied the ones taped up right by my pillow. They were the last things I saw before I went to sleep every night and the first things when I woke up every morning.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Avery said as I traced my favorite picture with my fingers. It was one of Marc and me roasting marshmallows out on the beach last year. I was looking at the fire, but he was looking at me. His gaze was pure love. At least that’s what I had thought. I had a whole little section of the wall for just the two of us.
“You don’t want him,” Avery reminded me, and gently threw a stuffed koala bear sitting at the edge of my bed in my direction.
I hugged it to my chest. But I did.
My expression must have been easy to read because she continued. “Trust me, you don’t.”
She was making sense. My head knew that, but my heart was having a harder time getting the message.
Avery grabbed scissors from my desk and marched over to me. “You know what to do,” she said, holding them out.
I did, but that didn’t mean I wanted to. “Do I have to?”
“I’m not going to force you…,” she said, still waiting for me to take them. “But do you really want to look at his face every single day? Every single night?”
Yes.
That was the wrong answer. I knew that, and staring at his face wasn’t going to help me get over him. I plucked the scissors from her. This was a rite of passage that I’d seen more times than I could count. Any breakup film worth its weight had some sort of ritual cleansing: cutting photos, burning reminders of an ex, something! Sure, the symbolism was cliché—getting rid of things from the past to make room for the future—but there was truth to it. Those scenes always made me smile. And I definitely needed a smile.
I pulled a couple of photos down. Except that feeling of closure didn’t wash over me. It made me feel emptier than before, if that was even possible. “This sucks.” I held the picture of Marc and me at my sweet sixteen, his arm draped around my waist. “I looked so happy in this one.”
“So snip out his face. Keep you. You can put your dream guy on there instead.”
“Marc is my—”
Avery cut me off. “Don’t say it. A guy who would treat you like he treated you is not a dream guy.”
She was right.
I looked at the picture one last time and then plunged the scissors in.
It was time to cut Marc Gerber out of my life.
Chapter 6
I jumped when footsteps charged toward my room. Moments later my sister was facing me, hands on hips and green eyes in slits. “More company for you. Do Mom and Dad know you’re having this many people over? It’s not fair—they wouldn’t even let me have one person hang out, and you’re practically having a party.”
Before I could answer, Grace and Terri rushed into my room and ushered Jemma out.
My sister dug her heels into the floor, but my friends were stronger. “You get away with everything!” she yelled once she’d been successfully booted.
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that was me, always getting what I wanted. Like a broken heart. Who wouldn’t want that? I groaned. Jemma didn’t have any clue what my life was like. Terri closed the door behind her, and both she and Grace spoke simultaneously, their voices more anxious than usual.
“Are you okay?” Grace asked.
“You never wrote us back,” Terri said.
I tried to smile at them. “I know, I’m sorry. I meant to, but I wasn’t thinking straight. And when you said you were coming over, I figured I would explain when you got here.”
Grace dropped her bag on the floor and rushed over to me, bending down to give me a giant hug. “It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re all right.”
“Avery’s done a good job distracting me,” I said, putting up a front as all three of them watched me intently. I could tell they were afraid of how I was going to react. I didn’t want to give them more reasons to worry. It wasn’t like there was anything they could do to make this better. I just needed to grin and bear it, at least until I was alone. I’d had enough public displays of crying, I didn’t need to add to it. “You guys know each other, right?” I asked, changing the subject.
They nodded and exchanged their hellos and then Terri faced me, her hands on her hips à la my sister. “So only Grace gets a hug?”
“I’d never forget you,” I said, holding out my hands so she’d come closer.
Terri closed in and whispered in my ear, “We will make him pay.”
The words were oddly comforting, but while I loved that she was ready to come to my aid, I didn’t want Marc to suffer. I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel this way—I was in the middle of a cleansing ritual and all—but what I really wanted was for him to want me back. I kept that little nugget to myself.
Terri squished her way on the bed bet
ween where Grace and I were now seated. “Um,” she said, picking off a piece of photo that had clung to my shirt. “Why do you have a little Marc head stuck to you? Making voodoo dolls? If so, count me in.”
Avery scooped up a pile of little Marc heads. “We have plenty to go around.”
My stomach churned again. “We’re ex-orcising the room of him,” I explained.
Grace groaned at my pun. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She turned to look at my wall and let out a whistle. The little Marc shrine by my pillow was gone. I’d hung the pictures back up, though—minus his face. It was a reminder that Marc wasn’t in my life anymore. Except that he wasn’t entirely gone. There were random shots with him scattered throughout the wall—all of us at Six Flags, me trying to lift him after he won his soccer game, him trying to teach Grace how to ice-skate—and so on. We hadn’t gotten to them yet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Marc had been a huge part of my life. How was I supposed to just forget him?
“Maybe you should take this whole section down,” Grace said, still studying my headless Marc collection. “Put up something that will make you smile.”
I shook my head. I needed those photos there. Seeing them made me angry—at him, the situation, everything—and having them gone would only make me sad. Well, sadder.
“I think the new look is brilliant,” Terri said and ripped one of the tiny heads into even smaller pieces to emphasize the point. “I can totally get behind this.”
I cringed. There was no salvaging that photo now. If I wanted it, I’d need to find it on the cloud. Not that I planned to tape his head back next to mine. Unless, of course, Marc came to his senses. There was still a chance. If he was feeling even the tiniest fraction of what I was feeling, he would come crawling back.
A phone rang. Marc!
I reached for my phone and chided myself when I realized it wasn’t mine. Of course it wasn’t. Why would I even get my hopes up? He wasn’t feeling what I was feeling. He’d brought this on. This was what he wanted. I thought for sure I’d cry at the realization, but I didn’t. I just felt numb. Maybe the ex-orcism was working.
Avery fumbled with her pocket. “Sorry. It was off, but when someone calls me a few times in a row, it turns itself back on.”
I was the last person she needed to apologize to. “You should answer it. It could be important.”
Avery shook her head. “It’s just Nikki. Nothing to worry about—I saw the texts she sent.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, she just wanted to know if she should get me a movie ticket.”
“Oh my God.” I jumped off the bed. “I totally ruined your plans.” I looked at Grace and Terri. “All of your plans. I’m so sorry.” Grace had a volleyball dinner tonight, and Terri had been planning on going to see some band with a guy she’d met while shopping for paint supplies. Now I felt even worse.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Avery said.
In a way she was right. Marc did. Yet I was the one keeping them all from going out. I was the one they were stuck with. “Please go have fun. Somebody needs to. It will make me feel better.”
No one said anything.
“Please.” I put on an extra cheesy smile. “See, I’m doing better already.”
Grace and Terri didn’t budge, but Avery gnawed at her lip, probably debating if I wanted her to stay or if I needed time alone with my best friends.
I turned my focus to her. “Really. I’m good. You should get out of here.”
“If you’re sure…,” Avery said.
“I am,” I answered quickly. I felt guilty enough for having kept her here this long. She didn’t need to keep playing babysitter.
“And we’re here,” Grace joined in, squeezing my arm. “We’ll make sure she’s okay.” I was going to have to deal with getting them out next, but one problem at a time.
“Okay.” Avery gave me a little hug. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“Unless you can erase tonight from everyone’s memories, I’m all set,” I said, more to myself than to her. I hated the idea of everyone talking about my breakup.
“People will have your back. You’ll see.”
I gave a tight-lipped smile this time. I knew the people currently in my room would; I wasn’t so sure about anyone else. I had made a fool of myself, and the worst part was that because of my reaction, the whole world was going to know that Marc and I were over. I wasn’t ready for that.
“Thanks for being there for me,” I said, a lump rising in my throat. So much for being numb to everything. “I don’t even know what to say. The way you—”
Avery stopped me. “I told you, we girls have to stick together.” Then she waved and headed out.
Once we heard the outside door shut, I dropped back onto my bed and swallowed the urge to cry. “You guys were right. You told me Avery and her group were nice. I guess I’m judgy and awful. No wonder Marc didn’t want me. I’m not worth—”
“Hey,” Terri said. “Knock it off.
“Yeah,” Grace agreed. “Marc’s an idiot for not wanting you. It’s his loss.”
I couldn’t talk about this. Not yet. “You guys should get going, too,” I said.
“Not happening,” Terri said. “How about we finish the Marc purge, huh?”
I was afraid to speak. I was choked up, so I just nodded.
Grace put her hand over mine. “Maybe we should start with this?” she asked softly.
I sucked in some air. I had been clutching my charm bracelet. Playing with it had become second nature over the years. I caught myself doing it all the time. Right now I’d been unwittingly hanging on to a heart-shaped charm with I LOVE YOU engraved on it. The bracelet, with that charm, was the first gift Marc had given me. Each holiday, birthday, special event, he added to it. There was the small cupcake charm for my sweet sixteen, a little peridot for our first anniversary, and a garnet for our second. He even gave me a pearl charm before I left for the summer because I’d be missing our Fourth of July anniversary. I reached for the clasp. Wearing it didn’t make sense anymore, but my fingers shook as I tried to take it off. I couldn’t do it.
“Here, I got it.” Grace went to remove it, but I pulled away.
“No.” My voice cracked. Suddenly, those tears I’d been doing such a great job containing came pouring out.
I covered my head with my hands. “How could he do this? What am I going to do?” I sobbed.
Their arms wrapped around me.
I only heard snippets. “We’re here.” “We love you.” “It’ll be okay.” All of it swirled together. Eventually my cries subdued, but I knew it was only moments before another wave of tears would surface.
Terri stood up and grabbed my computer. “How about a movie? We’ll even let you pick. We can get some ice cream and eat it from the carton. It will be like Rom-Com 101.”
“Yeah,” Grace said. “Your rom-coms are practically how-to guides for you anyway, and this totally fits the bill. The main character always goes through something crappy, deals with a horrible guy, but then finds the real deal—true love and a happily-ever-after. Perfect, right?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to be some character in a movie or book. I wanted to be me in my old life. My regular, same-old, same-old life where my boyfriend, who wasn’t horrible—at least not until today—still wanted me. “You guys, I think I just need to be alone.”
“No way,” Terri objected as Grace shook her head furiously.
“Please,” I said.
“But—” Grace started.
“I just want to go to bed, and I can’t with both of you watching me. I’ll call if I need anything. I promise. Please,” I repeated. “I just need some time.”
Eventually they conceded, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I felt hollow, but somehow the tears kept coming.
“Cam,” my sister said, stepping into my room.
I couldn’t take any of her snide comments, not now. “What?”
<
br /> “I, um, heard you guys.”
How many times had I told her not to listen at my door? “Well, now you know,” I grumbled through my tears. “Marc dumped me. Happy?”
Jemma moved closer to me. “No. I’m…” She watched me, her eyes welling up, too. Then she climbed into my bed and snuggled next to me. “He’s dead to me, too,” she whispered.
I fell asleep crying into her hair.
Chapter 7
I let out three exaggerated coughs as I entered the kitchen Monday morning.
“Don’t even try it,” my mother said.
“Try what? I’m sick. I think I need to stay home today.”
“You’re going to school,” she said matter-of-factly, putting a plate of chocolate chip pancakes down on the counter.
I knew she was going to say that. My parents had basically let me stay comatose all weekend, with the caveat that come Monday morning, I’d snap out of it. Easier said than done.
I sat down on the stool in front of the pancakes and stuck my fork into them. I couldn’t eat. Every time I swallowed something, I felt like it was going to come back up.
“Hey, kiddo,” my dad said, meandering into the kitchen. He shuffled his hand through my tangled mess of hair. “Feeling any better?” My sister trailed after him.
We were not typically morning people. With the exception of a few grunts and nods in the hallway, we barely acknowledged one another at this hour. Everyone was always rushing to do their own thing, but today my mom had called everyone down for breakfast—as if food with my family would make me forget about my problems.
“Actually,” I said, holding on to my stomach and groaning, “I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Now it’s a stomach bug? Thought you had a cough,” my mom said, smirking, even though I did not find the circumstances amusing in the least.
“You can have more than one symptom,” I informed her.
“You’re a sucky faker,” my sister said, stealing a pancake off my plate and shoving it in her mouth.
“Because maybe I haven’t had as much practice as you,” I shot back, smacking her hand away before she could take another. If she wasn’t going to come to my aid, then she couldn’t eat my breakfast.
Finding Mr. Better-Than-You Page 4
