LEMNISCATE Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Jennifer Murgia
answer.
“We started running track today.”
Which we didn’t.
My mom inhaled deeply and dropped the subject. Why was I lying? What was wrong with me? But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth about Garreth. Not yet. Maybe never.
I stared out the window, thinking how today turned out so miserably. This morning was the only nice part. The part when I woke up to find him there in my room. Now all I could recall was the far off look in his eyes in the car.
My day was crap.
And now my whole week would be equally crappy. No Garreth for the rest of the week, and Friday loomed on the horizon. Ugh. Pizza with mom’s boyfriend . . . and Brynn. I could see it now, my mother playing the gracious hostess, the smiling doctor nodding in approval at her overly eager display of hospitality and Brynn . . . who would set foot in my house and butter everyone up. Probably by offering to set up a pizza topping bar or something just as equally witty, while, with each passing torturous minute, planning my demise.
Chapter Seven
A fter dinner I listlessly ventured upstairs, leaving my mother behind on the couch, the blue glow of the six o’clock news illuminating the living room. We had eaten with minimal conversation and I cleaned up afterward, my unspoken peace offering for this morning.
She was disappointed that I didn’t want to sit with her, but with my usual excuse of homework, I trudged up the stairs with guilt in each step. Really all I wanted was to be alone and brood. I couldn’t help feeling that we were growing apart with each passing day. If only I had the courage to include her in what was going on in my life, instead of keeping her at arm’s length. But if I told her everything, from start to finish, including what happened over the spring and the summer up until now . . . Yeah right.
Flannel pajamas beckoned from my dresser drawer. It was only 6:20 p.m. but the day had been too miserable for words. I needed comfort. Maybe I would make hot chocolate in a little while, or tea. Tea always made me feel better.
I opened my calculus book and within minutes everything on the pages blurred together. My mind kept wandering back to Garreth. Was he okay or was he as miserable as I was? I slammed the book shut and hung my head in my hands.
The urge to call someone hit me hard. But there was no one to call. Garreth didn’t have a phone. He had never needed one. I pushed the button on my computer monitor. It beeped with life. The bright glow greeted me and my fingers flew over the keys. Before I knew it, an email to Claire had been typed. Just seconds before hitting the “send” button I sat staring at the message, feeling utter loss in my bones. A tear trickled down my cheek. What would happen if I sent it? No one would answer it. Her email account was long since closed. Who else would have her email address?
[email protected].
The “My” stood for the first two letters of her last name. Myers. But I always felt it was more personal than that. MyClaire. She would always be “
my Claire
.” My best friend.
My index finger hovered over the send button. I didn’t need to reread the message. There was nothing written in the “subject” box. The message didn’t pertain to anything in particular, just mindless babble . . . my awful day, how I missed her. I even mentioned how I’d been talking to Ryan a bit more. She would have loved his T-shirt today, a monkey with a banana up his nose. Claire loved questionable humor.
The ebb and flow of the content was more like a diary or a journal entry with no real rhyme or reason to it. I was just blowing off steam and admittedly, I felt better. For ten minutes Claire was alive to me again. I closed my eyes, hit the send button, crawled into bed and silently wished to myself that maybe somewhere, Claire would get it.
My alarm clock woke me up. Under the circumstances, I felt remarkably well. A weight of unimaginable proportion had been lifted off my chest with my
“We started running track today.”
Which we didn’t.
My mom inhaled deeply and dropped the subject. Why was I lying? What was wrong with me? But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth about Garreth. Not yet. Maybe never.
I stared out the window, thinking how today turned out so miserably. This morning was the only nice part. The part when I woke up to find him there in my room. Now all I could recall was the far off look in his eyes in the car.
My day was crap.
And now my whole week would be equally crappy. No Garreth for the rest of the week, and Friday loomed on the horizon. Ugh. Pizza with mom’s boyfriend . . . and Brynn. I could see it now, my mother playing the gracious hostess, the smiling doctor nodding in approval at her overly eager display of hospitality and Brynn . . . who would set foot in my house and butter everyone up. Probably by offering to set up a pizza topping bar or something just as equally witty, while, with each passing torturous minute, planning my demise.
Chapter Seven
A fter dinner I listlessly ventured upstairs, leaving my mother behind on the couch, the blue glow of the six o’clock news illuminating the living room. We had eaten with minimal conversation and I cleaned up afterward, my unspoken peace offering for this morning.
She was disappointed that I didn’t want to sit with her, but with my usual excuse of homework, I trudged up the stairs with guilt in each step. Really all I wanted was to be alone and brood. I couldn’t help feeling that we were growing apart with each passing day. If only I had the courage to include her in what was going on in my life, instead of keeping her at arm’s length. But if I told her everything, from start to finish, including what happened over the spring and the summer up until now . . . Yeah right.
Flannel pajamas beckoned from my dresser drawer. It was only 6:20 p.m. but the day had been too miserable for words. I needed comfort. Maybe I would make hot chocolate in a little while, or tea. Tea always made me feel better.
I opened my calculus book and within minutes everything on the pages blurred together. My mind kept wandering back to Garreth. Was he okay or was he as miserable as I was? I slammed the book shut and hung my head in my hands.
The urge to call someone hit me hard. But there was no one to call. Garreth didn’t have a phone. He had never needed one. I pushed the button on my computer monitor. It beeped with life. The bright glow greeted me and my fingers flew over the keys. Before I knew it, an email to Claire had been typed. Just seconds before hitting the “send” button I sat staring at the message, feeling utter loss in my bones. A tear trickled down my cheek. What would happen if I sent it? No one would answer it. Her email account was long since closed. Who else would have her email address?
[email protected].
The “My” stood for the first two letters of her last name. Myers. But I always felt it was more personal than that. MyClaire. She would always be “
my Claire
.” My best friend.
My index finger hovered over the send button. I didn’t need to reread the message. There was nothing written in the “subject” box. The message didn’t pertain to anything in particular, just mindless babble . . . my awful day, how I missed her. I even mentioned how I’d been talking to Ryan a bit more. She would have loved his T-shirt today, a monkey with a banana up his nose. Claire loved questionable humor.
The ebb and flow of the content was more like a diary or a journal entry with no real rhyme or reason to it. I was just blowing off steam and admittedly, I felt better. For ten minutes Claire was alive to me again. I closed my eyes, hit the send button, crawled into bed and silently wished to myself that maybe somewhere, Claire would get it.
My alarm clock woke me up. Under the circumstances, I felt remarkably well. A weight of unimaginable proportion had been lifted off my chest with my
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