Losing Faith by Denise Jaden Page B
Authors: Denise Jaden
agreeing.
I look up at her for the first time. Her eyeliner doesn’t seem nearly as scary close up. It’s as if the black marks are thereto hide her eyes, not to make them spine-chilling. I remember her glaring at me from the back of the church. Or was she just watching?
“Corey was hit by a truck.”
I blink, not knowing what she’s talking about, but also not about to ask.
“My sister, Corey. I was supposed to be watching her while my mom went inside to get us a snack,” she adds, without emotion, like she’s said it a hundred times.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Does she want to talk about it? I mean, obviously she does if she’s brought it up. “Were you and Corey close?” As soon as it leaves my mouth, I bite my lip. It’s so not what she wants to hear. I, of all people, know that. “I mean, does it get easier? Like, after a few years.”
Even though she doesn’t answer right away, the question feels much better. And the look on her face tells me she’s thinking about it.
“Yes and no,” she says, finally. “Sometimes you have to force things to get easier.”
I think about that. About her wardrobe and attitude. I try to think of ways I could force my life to get back to normal, force my parents to talk to me, but I can’t imagine myself taking such drastic steps. Things must have been pretty bad for her.
“Is that why you were at Faith’s funeral?” I ask, picking at the stitching on the side of my jeans.
She shrugs. “I guess. I just thought, you know, we should talk.”
I offer a smile, thinking we’re having a bonding moment. But suddenly she walks straight for the door beside me, and whips it open so hard it bangs against the wall again.
“I gotta bail,” she says, and tromps down the hallway without even saying good-bye.
chapter NINE
b y the time I get back to my locker, it’s after four and I’ve almost regained my proper breathing pattern. Who knew Tessa and I could relate on any subject, especially this one? I grab my backpack, stuff it with books, and head for the door. My cell phone beeps through the canvas, and I bend down to dig it out.
Three missed calls. Two from Dad’s office, and one from home. Dad doesn’t like wasting minutes on my cell phone, so whatever it is, it’s important. My hands tremble while I scroll to the last call and hit send.
All I can see in my mind is Mom’s depressed face.
“Are you okay?” Dad asks when he answers the phone on the first ring.
“Uh, yeah, of course,” I say. “Is everyone … is Mom okay?”
“Yes, yes. Where are you?”
I start to clue in that he’s worried about me because I’m late getting home from school. “I’m on my way, Dad. I had to stay after class to catch up.” He doesn’t need the whole background on Tessa Lockbaum. He’s got enough to worry about and I don’t know how I’d even start to explain.
“When will you be home?”
He suggests picking me up, but I talk him out of it and promise to be home within minutes. I hang up and break into a run.
Plan H: Apologize profusely until Dad calms down.
After catching my breath, I push through the doorway and wait for Dad to start his lecture so I can reply with my apologies. Then, while we’re at it, I can tell him how confused and alone I feel. Get it all out before I start dying my hair black and covering my body with piercings. I’ve spent the last few years avoiding talking to my parents, but maybe now’s the time to start. Maybe this one good thing could come of Faith’s death.
“I have to get back to the office,” Dad says, reachingpast me for the door, not saying another word about it.
My mouth drops open as I watch his back all the way to the van.
The rest of the week, I focus on avoiding Amy in the hallways. Tessa doesn’t come by our lockers while I’m there and I wonder if it’s coincidence or if she’s avoiding me now. I’ve been coming up with fresh excuses of why I can’t be alone with Dustin. Thankfully
I look up at her for the first time. Her eyeliner doesn’t seem nearly as scary close up. It’s as if the black marks are thereto hide her eyes, not to make them spine-chilling. I remember her glaring at me from the back of the church. Or was she just watching?
“Corey was hit by a truck.”
I blink, not knowing what she’s talking about, but also not about to ask.
“My sister, Corey. I was supposed to be watching her while my mom went inside to get us a snack,” she adds, without emotion, like she’s said it a hundred times.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Does she want to talk about it? I mean, obviously she does if she’s brought it up. “Were you and Corey close?” As soon as it leaves my mouth, I bite my lip. It’s so not what she wants to hear. I, of all people, know that. “I mean, does it get easier? Like, after a few years.”
Even though she doesn’t answer right away, the question feels much better. And the look on her face tells me she’s thinking about it.
“Yes and no,” she says, finally. “Sometimes you have to force things to get easier.”
I think about that. About her wardrobe and attitude. I try to think of ways I could force my life to get back to normal, force my parents to talk to me, but I can’t imagine myself taking such drastic steps. Things must have been pretty bad for her.
“Is that why you were at Faith’s funeral?” I ask, picking at the stitching on the side of my jeans.
She shrugs. “I guess. I just thought, you know, we should talk.”
I offer a smile, thinking we’re having a bonding moment. But suddenly she walks straight for the door beside me, and whips it open so hard it bangs against the wall again.
“I gotta bail,” she says, and tromps down the hallway without even saying good-bye.
chapter NINE
b y the time I get back to my locker, it’s after four and I’ve almost regained my proper breathing pattern. Who knew Tessa and I could relate on any subject, especially this one? I grab my backpack, stuff it with books, and head for the door. My cell phone beeps through the canvas, and I bend down to dig it out.
Three missed calls. Two from Dad’s office, and one from home. Dad doesn’t like wasting minutes on my cell phone, so whatever it is, it’s important. My hands tremble while I scroll to the last call and hit send.
All I can see in my mind is Mom’s depressed face.
“Are you okay?” Dad asks when he answers the phone on the first ring.
“Uh, yeah, of course,” I say. “Is everyone … is Mom okay?”
“Yes, yes. Where are you?”
I start to clue in that he’s worried about me because I’m late getting home from school. “I’m on my way, Dad. I had to stay after class to catch up.” He doesn’t need the whole background on Tessa Lockbaum. He’s got enough to worry about and I don’t know how I’d even start to explain.
“When will you be home?”
He suggests picking me up, but I talk him out of it and promise to be home within minutes. I hang up and break into a run.
Plan H: Apologize profusely until Dad calms down.
After catching my breath, I push through the doorway and wait for Dad to start his lecture so I can reply with my apologies. Then, while we’re at it, I can tell him how confused and alone I feel. Get it all out before I start dying my hair black and covering my body with piercings. I’ve spent the last few years avoiding talking to my parents, but maybe now’s the time to start. Maybe this one good thing could come of Faith’s death.
“I have to get back to the office,” Dad says, reachingpast me for the door, not saying another word about it.
My mouth drops open as I watch his back all the way to the van.
The rest of the week, I focus on avoiding Amy in the hallways. Tessa doesn’t come by our lockers while I’m there and I wonder if it’s coincidence or if she’s avoiding me now. I’ve been coming up with fresh excuses of why I can’t be alone with Dustin. Thankfully