Tainted Frost by Maggie Adamyan

Author:Maggie Adamyan [Adamyan, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

I’m parked in Nat’s driveway. Through the windshield, I can see her window, the pale blue curtains drawn. We’re supposed to get ready for Matilda’s party together, but I’m reluctant to go in. I can’t get this morning out of my head. The way her eyes seemed to pierce me with that hard glint of anger, or jealousy, or both. I almost felt hated, but I know she doesn’t hate me. I know that. We never really fight or argue. The most that ever happens is that we have these tense moments, these awkward moments, like we did earlier today, that are eventually diffused by the time the sun rises the next morning. They’re really never a big deal, but sometimes I wonder if they will ultimately pile up all on top of one another, the way tiny, innocuous snowflakes gather into large, intimidating mounds of snow, and smother our friendship.

Nat’s big on goals—writing them down, ranking them in terms of highest and lowest importance, actually accomplishing them. She’s definitely a doer, whereas I’m more of a passive observer, which I guess is redundant. I mean, are observers ever aggressive? Can you aggressively observe someone? My question is answered when I remember my relentless staring down of Alex the other night at Jerry’s. If my eyes were barnacles, they’d attach themselves to Alex and you wouldn’t be able to burn them off with a blowtorch. So maybe I’m an aggressive observer, but I’m still certainly not a doer. Natalie’s the one who beats goals into crippling submission, until their bits and pieces are twitching helplessly, like the little feet on a cockroach after it meets its mortal enemy, the boot. Twitch-twitch. Die.

I’ve never known Nat not to check off all the tasks on her daily to-do lists, which can span pages in her planner, before the day is over. So, I can’t pretend I don’t know where that look last night came from. She’s angry that I’ve been spending so much time with Alex when she still hasn’t made much progress with Gary. What’s worse is that the whole thing was her idea and I, the passive/aggressive observer, beat her to it.

I squeeze the steering wheel hard with both hands, looking up at Nat’s blue curtains, still drawn tight. Maybe she can hear my car idling below; maybe she even heard me pull up. She hasn’t looked to check though, and she always does. Anytime a car passes by outside, she rushes to the window and looks out. I never know who or what she’s expecting, because she often turns away with a look of disappointment.

With a sigh, I put the car in Reverse, check my mirrors, and start backing out of their driveway so I can go home. I’m almost on the road when the front door to Nat’s house swings open and her eight-year-old twin sisters come out, heading straight toward me and waving frantically. I put the car in Park.

“Hey,” one of them, Nicole, says, slamming her body against my door.

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