Bookishly Ever After by Isabel Bandeira

Author:Isabel Bandeira [Bandeira, Isabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781633920583
Amazon: 1633920585
Publisher: Spencer Hill Contemporary
Published: 2016-01-12T08:00:00+00:00

28

“Distance is good sometimes. It keeps me from strangling people.” —Marissa, Hidden

The following week of school was awkward. Something in me still mad about Sunday wouldn’t let me accept Em’s and Alec’s apologies, even with Grace playing peacemaker. After two torturous lunch periods, I ended up eating my lunch in one of the band practice rooms the rest of the week and, at home, locking myself in my room every afternoon. Even though I missed them, I couldn’t let my so-called friends push me around anymore. It was time to start growing a spine, like they were always telling me to.

I Think I Love You blasted from my record player and I rolled onto my back, belting out the chorus at the top of my lungs. My phone rang halfway through the instrumental break and I answered without bothering to get up and lower the volume.

“Is—Is that seventies music playing in the background?” Em sounded distracted, like she hadn’t meant to ask the question but couldn’t help it.

I padded over to the record player and gently lifted the needle so the music was replaced with the hum of the speakers.

Holding back the urge to say hi, I responded with a clipped, “Yes it is. Don’t judge.” I looked over at my alarm clock, checking the time. I’d give her one minute before hanging up.

“Right.” There was a deep breath on the other side of the line before Em continued in the most depressed voice I’d ever heard, “I’ve fallen into the deepest pits of despair.”

I froze halfway to the bed, my plan to grow a spine crumbling with that one sentence. Em needed me and I couldn’t ignore her. “What happened?”

“I did it. I broke up with Wil again, this time for good. I’m going cold turkey.”

At that, I unfroze and tried to project comfort and understanding through the phone, failing with the first words to come out of my mouth.

“You said that last week.” A part of me was positive the actress in her loved the drama of her on-again-off-again relationship.

Em made a huffing sound. “I don’t need commentary about this, peanut gallery. What I do need right now is some commiseration from my best friend.”

The hurt in her voice, exaggerated or not, cut straight through me. Grabbing Em’s finished Yule/Festivus present, I tossed it into my bag and made my way downstairs. “Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Downstairs, Trixie’s red and orange-bobbed head went up like a shot as I rushed into the kitchen. While Em continued to spill her sorrows through the phone in a way that would make Shakespeare proud, I mouthed,

“I need a ride.”

“Your big sister is pretty awesome,” Em said to me as she ate another spoonful of the frozen custard Trixie had thought to pick up on the way over. Em was perched on top of her bed’s dove-grey comforter, the only neutral color in the whirlwind of old movie posters and furniture straight out of wonderland that made up her room.

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