Left Behind

“Go without me. I’m gonna go talk to Allison Parker. She’s my partner for our English project.” I know my response won’t sit well with Emily, but I’m almost at the point of not giving a shit anymore.

“Really, Zack? Again? If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you and the little nerd girl had something going on.” She knows Allison and I are just friends, that’s not what she’s really pissed about. All of her stuck-up friends meet in the courtyard every day after they’re done eating, and god forbid she doesn’t have me to tote around. Most days she doesn’t even talk to me anymore, but she hangs on to me like we’re goddamn connected at the hip.

“You won’t even notice I’m not there.” I stand and grab my books from the table, silently marking the end of the conversation. For me, anyway.

“Of course I will, and so will everyone else,” she whines, reaching for my hand.

And there’s the real reason that I’m getting bitched at for wanting to work on my English project. The captain of the cheerleading squad must be seen with the captain of the football team. The earth might tilt off its axis if all isn’t picture perfect in Emily’s world. But I’m a master at fixing my wrongs with Emily Bennett, so I slam my books down on the table loudly, making sure all eyes are on us. Then I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and pull her close, making it so she has to tilt her pretty little head up to look at me. Sealing my mouth over hers, I kiss her long and hard.

She’ll pretend to be pissed at my little public display of affection, but she won’t be. She loves every damn minute of the attention. And the more girls who sigh as she strolls by, the better the treatment I’ll get when I see her again after school.

Chapter 3

Nikki—

Brookside, Texas

The morning sun shining through the trees does nothing to lift my mood. After tossing and turning all night, I was more exhausted when I climbed out of bed than when I’d crawled into it.

Sleep depravation leaves me edgy and I jump when my cell rings. “I haven’t leaped out a window, Ashley,” I yell as I hit the speaker button on the phone, halting my cleaning of Mom’s dresser drawers. She means well, but she called four times already and it’s only 11 a.m. “Shouldn’t you be in math class?”

“I’m smart enough. Besides, I’ll get by in life on my charm alone,” she says sarcastically. “Calculus is for the dim witted.”

“Really? I always thought Calculus was for smart kids.”

“Nah. They just tell that to the kids with no personality so they don’t hop out a window. We tell them they’re bright, but what it really means is you’re boring as shit so you have to work twice as hard.”

“You do know people tell me I’m bright, right?”

“That’s okay, stick with me, I’ll dumb you down.” She pauses. “I only have English and gym left, thought I’d cut out and keep you company this afternoon.”

Surprisingly, I’m able to talk Ash out of cutting class, I know she wants to see for herself that I’m okay. That’s why I didn’t mention I found out I’ll be moving next week. Ms. Evans handed me the news this morning. Foster care. Again. Ashley’s mom agreed to keep me temporarily, but her trailer has less room than mine.

My frequent stints in foster care whenever Mom was hospitalized were usually short lived. I knew they were only temporary. But I still have almost a full year until I turn eighteen and I don’t even want to think about living with strangers for all that time. I can’t imagine surviving without Mom and Ashley.

Ashley Mason has been my best friend for four years. It’s the longest I’ve ever had a best friend. Actually, it’s the longest I’ve had any friend. We met in Mr. Carson’s English class. We had just started To Kill a Mockingbird when I transferred into Brookside. I’m the geek who reads two books a week and has every English assignment done before it’s due. Ashley is the other kind of girl. The kind who reads Spark Notes and despises any book that doesn’t have pictures. Some people just hate to read, Ashley is their queen. She couldn’t fathom that I’d already read To Kill a Mockingbird because I wanted to. Our obvious differences are what attracted us to each other. Ashley needed help and I gave help. It’s who I am. I guess all those years of taking care of Mom made it second nature for me.

I toss my phone on the bed and take a deep breath looking around. Who will I take care of now?

***

Notebooks filled with rambling thoughts.

Random newspaper articles folded into tiny squares.

Hundreds of empty pills bottles.

I’m grateful Ashley decided to stay in school; it gave me some time to finish cleaning out Mom’s drawers without having to explain anything. I know Ash won’t judge us. But some of the stuff I sorted through this morning has no explanation. Ashley knows all about Mom. She’s one of the few people who did. Mom’s diabetes wasn’t a secret— it was ultimately what took her life. But hardly anyone knew about her mental illness. It wasn’t something that was easy to explain. Most kids don’t even know what Bipolar Disorder is, let alone how to take care of a mother battling its demons each day. It was just easier not to bring anyone home. Except Ashley. She’s seen it all. Especially, the last few rough weeks…Mom’s disease was all about bad days and good days. But we hadn’t had any good days in a while. A really, really long while.