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whispers at school. Why is she wearing a sweatshirt when it’s ninety degrees? I’d been called into the guidance office more than once and given countless eating disorder pamphlets. Each time they’d call home and I’d suffer the consequences. I never had friends because I pushed them away. Because of this secret. I’d soon enough scare this boy away. The embarrassment was setting in white hot. My collar bone itching from hives and I restlessly shifted my weight from hip to hip. His compliment; a       real        compliment, hung in the air between us and I couldn't think of any witty remark or snarky comeback. Flight. I had to go before he noticed that I was ugly and ran away screaming. I stood abruptly, possibly startling him but I didn’t care. Escape was all I could think about.
                  "Well, it's been real, but I've got to go." and I turned to run away but he stopped me with his words.
                  "Same time tomorrow, then." He said as if it was a given and the presumption startled me. I didn’t know that I would be back tomorrow and neither did he.
                  "Maybe", I       murmured       somewhat dumbfounded, but he flashed me his smoldering half-smile laced with double-meaning that I'd yet to understand. I didn't want to stand like an idiot working it out so I turned on my heel and nearly sprinted back to the Beetle kicking up sand as I went.       Please don't be watching me walk away. Please. Please.        I couldn't help but turn around to get a glimpse of the angelic looking boy and when I did, curse it all, he was watching me. We were twenty yards away or more but his gaze was penetrating and felt, almost, illicit. He doesn't even know my name.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
    Teddy
     
    When the call came I was frozen; locked inside my body like a quadriplegic. I was just …numb, and then I started to laugh. Not a little bit either, but manic, hysterical laughter that finally after minutes, maybe even the better part of an hour gave way to tears. The tears were no match for the laughter though. A few small, pathetic droplets in comparison to our history, and then that was it. I was over you. The rest of the family was another matter entirely. Honestly, they made the whole thing seem so goddamn tragic. Everyone seemed to think that I was going to be some emotional basket case, so they tip-toed around me, but that just made everything unnecessarily awful. No one talked to me about what happened, or said much to me at the funeral where I was forced into a really morbid receiving line. Mickey just kept shaking his head and mom kept patting my hand. To my utter disgust, my dad was nicer and more generous to me than he’d ever been, and Claire kept shooting me furtive glances, wringing her hands together nervously like at any moment she’d just implode.
                  I keep meaning to call her, but there’s always an excuse not to. She’s grieving , I thought. Give it time . But a week became two and then three and now it's been six. She'll be going to work, today . I'll find some time to call her later . I wasn’t even fooling myself, really.
                  I’m trying to make coffee with the last of the fancy shit you’d left over here.  Expensive and tastes like cat piss; I’d rather have Folgers, but I ran out and I’m in a hurry. I make a mental note to pick some up on the way home from work. Then, my phone rings, which makes me jump and spill the remaining grounds all over the counter. Dammit!     I’m going to just let it ring when I think it could be her. . I’ve been obsessing over whether or not to call her when she could just as easily pick up the phone and call me. Again, I’m not even convincing to myself, but I can’t ignore her no matter how bad I want to, so I succumb to the compulsion to answer. I pick it up right before voice mail