Chapter Thirty-Seven December 8
Chapter Thirty-seven
“Get out of bed. We’re going out.”
I jolt up from the sudden disturbance. My eyes strain to adjust to the light, and I can just make out Georgie’s silhouette in my bedroom doorway.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask. It’s six-thirty at night. On the rare occasion Georgie does visit from the city, she’s always gone before rush hour. “Where’s Paulie?”
“Mom and Dad are watching her. I’m staying the night, and you and I are going to celebrate your birthday.”
December eighth. My seventeenth birthday.
“I don’t want to go out,” I say.
“Too bad. Andie’s on her way. We’re taking you for fajitas and virgin margaritas.”
“Please,” I say, trying to sink back into bed. “I just want to stay here.”
“Tough shit. I’ll be waiting in my room.”
My room, she says. Like it still belongs to her.
And it probably would have if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.
And maybe if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to get so lost with John.
I let myself believe in the love story—that John was my meant-to-be—but maybe he was just a distraction from everything happening at home.
Or maybe I’d still be with Theo. He’d be taking me out for a fancy birthday celebration.
And then he’d probably want to do it after.
There’s no escaping sex. Unless I stay here. In my room. Where it’s safe.
“Let’s go!” Georgie says, before slamming my door shut.
I sit up and run my hands over my face. My parents wished me a happy birthday over breakfast this morning, and I was pretty sure that would be the extent of the celebrations.
Just another day. I forced down Mom’s breakfast before going to school, to be nice, and I promised myself that I’d work on more college applications when I got home. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
There’s only one school I can see myself going to: Columbia.
I even took the SATs back in October. Being locked up in my room for months left me with a lot of free time to take online courses and practice tests.
One day I told Mom I needed a drive to a college fair at the community center, but instead I spent the afternoon writing the test. When my results were emailed two weeks later, I had no one but myself to celebrate my score of 1420 with.
I did better than I expected. Way better.
It was the first time it felt like maybe Columbia was more than just a pipe dream.
“How’s it going in there?” Georgie calls.
Clearly, she isn’t going to let this idea of hers go, so I pull myself out of bed, put on a pair of jeans and a forest green sweater to hide my shrunken frame, and throw my scraggly hair up in a messy bun. When I open my bedroom door, Georgie is there, waiting.
“Oh, good,” she says, sizing me up. “Andie’s already outside.”
“What about Mom and Dad?” I ask, flicking off my lights and grabbing my things.
“I told them I was taking you out for your birthday with Andie.”
“Did they give you the third degree?”
“No. I think they’re just happy to see you leaving the house.”
“Ha,” I say. “Nothing ever makes them happy.”
“Save it for dinner. Come on,” Georgie says, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs.
“Are you going to finish that?” Andie asks, jutting her chin to my half-eaten cheese quesadilla.
I push it toward her. “I’m full.”
“Half a quesadilla is filling?” Georgie asks as she takes a sip of her non-virgin margarita. She’s twenty. Legal drinking age. Married. A mom. Yet somehow, I’ve reverted to that unsure, insecure, closed-off version of myself I was before my diagnosis.
“This is progress,” Andie says. “Lennon barely eats these days.”
“Mom was telling me.” Georgie stares at me, her face almost ashen. “She says you’ve been starving yourself to punish them. Is that true?”
A puff of laughter escapes as my fingers coil tightly around my glass. “It’s been almost six months. Where have you been?”
“What do you mean, where have I been? I’ve been taking care of a toddler and supporting Zach while he goes to university and works part-time. I’m sorry, but I have a life too.”
“You canceled on me three times. You promised you’d help with my college essay.”
“I know.” Georgie nods as Andie’s eyes move between us across the table. “I’m sorry about that, too. Things have been not that great on my end either. Zach and I went through a rough patch, but we’re working through it.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Did he cheat?” Andie leans in, eyes wide.
“No.” Georgie shakes her head. “He wouldn’t. And nothing ‘happened.’ It’s just hard. But this isn’t about me. I should have been there for you.”
I lift my shoulders before sinking deeper into my seat. “Wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Give them time,” Georgie says. “They can’t stay angry forever. So, tell me, what did you decide to write your essay about? What school even asks for an essay?”
“About a time a worldview of mine was challenged,” I respond as I rip a brand-new paper napkin to shreds.
The table is quiet until the three of us break into a careful kind of laughter.
“And it was only one school that required an essay,” I say, kind of quietly.
“How about you, Andie? Did you apply to any out-of-province schools?” Georgie asks.
“I’m staying local. I figure why move to some small Canadian town when Toronto is at my fingertips?”
“You and Lennon should dorm together, downtown. Then the three of us could see each other more,” Georgie says, like she’s playing Barbies and creating idealized made-up scenarios.
“I didn’t apply to any local schools,” I say before taking a sip of water.
A beat of silence falls over the table as Georgie and Andie exchange looks. “Do Mom and Dad know that?”
“They asked if I applied to schools. I said I did. That was the extent of it. Dad probably thinks Mom paid my application fees, and vice versa.”
“So what schools did you apply to?” Georgie shifts in her seat. I try to meet Andie’s eyes but she’s looking away. She already knows the answer to this question.
“Just Columbia. No other schools.”
“Columbia University? The one in New York City? Lennon,” Georgie says, lowering her gaze to me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“It’s the only school I want to go to.”
“You knew about this?” Georgie asks Andie, and it comes out sounding accusatory.
“I tried to convince her to apply to some backup schools, but she refused.”
Georgie places her hand on my arm, her grip tightening. “Is this about John?”
“It’s about me,” I say.
“They’re never going to let you go,” my sister says, her eyebrows forming a peak.
“If I spend my whole life only doing things that I have Mom and Dad’s blessing to do, is that really a life worth living? You’re always telling me to do what makes me happy,” I point out, almost bitterly.
The waiter comes to settle the bill, and I excuse myself to the restroom.
When I return, Andie and Georgie have their coats on, ready to go.
I know they’re both worried about me. Even I’m a little worried about me.
But it’s either go after what I want or spend the rest of my days holed up in my room.
I’ve shown my parents that I’m capable of the latter, but the thing is, they don’t know that all that time I was up there, I was plotting and planning, preparing myself for Act II.