I nodded‒I understood what she meant. I'd had this conversation before, more times than I'd like to admit. How tiresome it must be to walk the earth alone, unable to talk to or touch the people you once loved.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fists banging outside the bathroom door. The noise jolted me from my guilty conscience as I considered how I'd let Charlotte down again.
"Sadie!" Lia was practically crying now, and had to stop every other word to catch her breath. "Let us in. We need to make sure you're okay." In true Lia fashion, she was an emotional wreck.
Charlotte disappeared in a sudden flash. I knew she hadn’t moved on yet, but her time with me was almost over. I took a black Sharpie and notepad from my purse, and quickly wrote her message to Tanner, adding a few of my own personal comments, too. I finished the letter by signing her name. I knew the eerie signature would send Tanner over the edge. To me, that was the message he needed to have: a message from beyond the grave from the girl he'd killed. Happily, I placed the note in my pocket. I sure hoped this didn’t ruin the party.
Yeah, I did.
I unlocked the bathroom door and took a quick glance at myself in the mirror, opened the door, and braced myself for one of Lia’s lectures.
"Lia, I’m fine, really." I rushed the words before she was able to say anything. "I think the heat got to me. You know how hot and crowded this place can get. The high humidity can cause nose bleeds and black outs."
She looked at me nervously, as if inspecting the information. Her short brown curls bounced against her shoulders when she nodded in agreement.
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. First, I get punched in the face, and in front of the entire school population, then I have to lie to my friends.
I peeked at Amber who was keeping a safe distance from me. She walked slowly through the small space, glancing around the room. "You know, it sounded like you were talking to someone in here," she explained, giving me a suspicious glare.
It didn’t occur to me that Amber had been exceptionally quiet. Though she usually loved a dramatic scene, she hadn’t said much since my fall.
My eyes found hers, and I gave her a pleading look. I hoped she wouldn’t pry any further. Of course, I was wrong.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." I said. I offered an awkward giggle. "I came in here to clean my face. Maybe you just thought you heard something," I lied, pushing past her.
I wasn’t really making any sense, but I kept talking anyway. Still reeling from the pain, I moved past them and walked toward the bathroom door. I felt a small cringe of guilt as I continued to lie to my best friends. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to tell them about my secret double life, I just knew that getting them involved could be dangerous. I was fine with getting hurt myself, but I couldn’t imagine how horrible I'd feel if something happened to one of them, especially when I'd be leaving in just a few short hours. I wouldn’t be able to protect them then, and the thought made me sick to my stomach.
I inched my way through the crowd, feeling a wave of sticky heat smack me in the face. It was like an assault. If there was one thing, I hated about living in California, it was the smothering summer heat. With the majority of Shady Oaks High School watching me, I walked toward our designated table. I wanted to get out of there, and fast, but I needed to grab my purse first, and say my last few goodbyes.
Amber, however, just couldn’t let it go. She followed me too closely, like a lost puppy. At last, she grabbed my arm, and continued her investigation. "I feel like you’re hiding something," she said, never taking her eyes away from mine.
She shoved me back into the booth I'd been knocked out of only a few minutes ago, where I found myself trapped with a group of girls I didn’t know. I wanted nothing more than to run out of this place screaming, but Amber was not ready to unleash me yet.
The sweaty, super-starved blonde sitting next to me tried desperately to eavesdrop on our conversation. Her newly dyed, blonde hair showed hints of its original, dark brown. She smiled at us, acting coy, as if she weren't trying to listen to every word we were saying. The smell of her strawberry shampoo and old cigarettes made me nauseous.
I pushed farther down on the hot leather sofa and leaned into my best friend. Trying to whisper over deafening high punk beats and several hundred voices was not working out for me.
"Sorry," I yelled, as I grabbed my purse. "I guess I'm just a little upset over the move."
Amber stopped. She began to sway to another beat playing from the speakers overhead.
"Sadie, you are so dramatic," she said. "It’s not going to be that bad. You really need to just calm down and relax." She stopped to take another sip of her cola and tucked a strand of her delicious blonde hair behind her diamond-studded ear. Her ocean blue eyes sparkled against the bright disco lights trying to blind me. She was perfectly styled in a sleek champagne-colored jumper with camel Prada heels. Unlike me, she belonged there, with the careless crowd at the club. She was beautiful, and she had her own way of looking at life. Amber never took things seriously. She'd been carefree ever since kindergarten, when she was the only kid in the class who would talk to me. She didn’t judge me like our Catholic school prep peers. She was like a serene butterfly, beautiful, yet hard to contain. My vintage inspired style never seemed to bother her the way it did Jacqueline, my archenemy since third grade. Amber never cared that trendy styles never appealed to me; I had my own taste and she loved me for that. Amber was my best friend–well, let’s be honest here: other than Lia, she was my only friend.
Amber threw her head back so that her hair bounced against her shoulders. She waved across the club at a boy, who I’m sure, unbeknownst to him, would become her next victim. "Sadie, you hate living here," she said. "Just think of where you're going as just another place you'll hate to live." I knew she was trying to be helpful, but Amber’s view on helping wasn’t much to offer.
In less than twelve hours I'd be on a plane, leaving my friends behind. I guess I always knew the move was coming. My mother was ready for an artistic change. She was a painter, and she'd been able to create a highly lucrative business for herself in California as a painter. Her portraits were amazing, full of color, life, and edge. Apparently, the California weather was too perfect, and she needed a new climate for new ideas. Now that my dad was retiring from the police force, we'd be able to move back to the very town where my parents were born and met. The only comfort I could find was hoping that with the move, I’d be able to leave the painful, wicked cries of the dead behind.
The room began to spin so quickly that I could no longer make out individual faces. I squinted and tried to refocus, but I knew the heat mixed with the atmosphere was going to drive me over the edge. I had to get out of there, and fast. "Amber, I’m leaving." I announced, and I jumped up and rushed toward the exit sign.
"You can’t leave," she screamed, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down next to her. "This is your last night here. I won’t see you again until…" She stopped talking because we both knew it'd be longer than we wanted to admit before we'd be able to see each other again.
I pulled my arm from her grasp, stood once more, and checked my black shorts for debris from my fall. "Amber, my plane leaves at 8 a.m. I really need to get home and finish packing. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be missed around here by anyone besides you and Lia."