Chapter 36 Skylar
Skylar
On the day of my imaging for Dr. Richardson, I rush around, cramming things in my backpack and answering last-minute emails.
I’ve had three LPs in the last six months, and my back isn’t ready for another.
My right butt cheek still hurts, and my heel shocks me a couple times a day.
But this will hopefully be the last one for a while.
Dr. Richardson agreed to a telehealth appointment once he’s reviewed my scans and won’t make me travel down to Manhattan for another LP.
Mom sends me a message, probably annoyed I’m not already outside. I’m sure the only reason she agreed to drive is so she could yell at me more about the article. Constant invalidation is the last thing I need today, but I can’t maneuver between campuses on my own after my procedure.
You should’ve said Brandon was driving you so I didn’t take PTO, she writes.
What? No, he’s not. That’s why I need you to drive me.
He said he was on his way to pick you up.
My pulse skyrockets. I can’t deal with my feelings for Pike while I’m already anxious about getting another five-inch needle in my back. I still need you to drive me. Please tell me you’re already in your car.
I’m at the mall. Text Brandon.
I let out a small scream in my empty living room. It had to be Kalle. That blond bastard told Pike about the club! My tinnitus whooshes unbearably, and I squeeze my ears to stifle the sound, but muffling environmental noise only submerges me in my own screechy head.
The doorbell rings. I don’t even have time to text the girls. Why is he here when I told him not to come? Is this his attempt at reconciliation? Could he have regrets?
I’ll tell him I don’t want to talk about our breakup. I need to make it to my appointment. That’s the most important thing right now.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. Yikes. My hair is piled on top of my head in a frizzy bun born of necessity. Without makeup, the bags under my eyes are a deep, bruised purple, stark against my ashen skin.
I steel my gaze as I throw open the door, but my emotions scramble again immediately.
Because outside my door isn’t a hot, disabled ex-snowboarder. It’s two women: one tall and skinny, with purple-streaked bangs framing her jawline as they sweep from her inverted bob; the other sits on a rollator and has long raven hair and an all-knowing smirk.
It takes me several heartbeats to process what’s happening. In my mind, the girls always look exactly like their profile photos. Not like real human beings here in front of me.
“Hi,” Emy says. Her wide grin shows off the cute gap in her front teeth. “We’re here to take you to your appointment.”
“Pike called Analia,” she says. “Personally, I think he should’ve called me, since we’d communicated before. Analia gets nervous talking to men.”
Analia blushes, looking at her sandal-clad feet. “Pike said he didn’t want you to have to go with your mom, but he didn’t think he was the appropriate person to drive you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I told him we hadn’t met. This is probably such an inconvenience.”
“Oh, stop.” Emy puts a hand on her hip. “It was a collaborative effort.”
“It was?”
“It’s high time we met already.”
Analia nods. She must be at least five foot ten—I had no idea. “Pike didn’t want to force us to meet if we weren’t ready.”
My heart thrums with nervous, happy anticipation. Are we ready?
“We all thought you’d appreciate us being here.” Analia keeps her gaze down, her cheeks pink. She’s always said she’s “autistic and shy,” but shyness doesn’t present the same way online.
“I appreciate it more than you know,” I say. “But why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
She finally looks up, her soft green eyes apologetic. “Pike said you’d say it was inconvenient for us.”
“Which is exactly what she did say.” Emy can’t hide her pointed grin. “Looks like someone understands you better than you think, sweets. Now, are we going to this appointment or not?”
“You’re really driving me?” I ask, still unable to believe it. “It’s going to take hours.”
“No one should be alone when they’re sick. We understand that better than anyone.”
“And then, if you want,” Analia adds, “we’ll sleep over so we can take care of you. We won’t be offended if that’s too much for you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I’ve been scared we’ll mess up our dynamic if we move things offline.”
Emy makes an exasperated Italian gesture, pinching her fingers together. “Our friendship is only going to get more epic now.”
“I’m a little nervous too,” Analia admits. “I’m really awkward in real life.”
Emy squishes us to her sides. “I’m so glad Pike had the sense to call. This is way overdue. We talk every day. We’re going to be just fine.”
My eyes spill over, and I hug them tightly. “Thanks for being here. It means the world.”