Pretending to Be Erica by Michelle Painchaud Page B

and in death, too.”
    I stare at the sandwich, my lungs burning.
    “Closure,” Marie whispers. She smiles and gets up. “Do you have any laundry?”
    “Just some shirts. I put them in the basket.”
    “I’ll do a load. Study hard and well.”
    “I will. Thank you for the snack.”
    She closes the door behind her. I wait until she walks down the hall to wrench my bathroom door open and dry heave into the toilet. Marie’s words made me want to scream it all—that I was a fake. That the body is still rotting out there. The body is still out there. Erica is out there somewhere. Her mother has false closure.

    That night, I mince through the night-fallen hall, the paintings glowing in the soft guide lights. Mrs. Silverman’s door is left open a crack. I make my way to her queen-size bed. Pillows are scattered on the floor. A forest of makeup bottles crowds her dresser. She’s a lump beneath the covers, pajamas silk and face smooth. Her wrists peek out—thin and weightless-looking, like a malnourished bird’s leg.
    Wake up. I need to tell you something
.
    Nobody really likes the truth, sweets.
Sal’s voice.
They just like their version of it
.
    “Erica?” She yawns and looks up at me. “Is something wrong?”
    Erica’s still out there.
    “I couldn’t sleep. My room feels too big.”
    “You can sleep with me if you want.”
    I hesitate. Sal and I never slept in the same bed, not even when I was little. But Mrs. Silverman seems to expect it. Do families sleep in the same bed without incident? A normal girl, a girl raised by a normal family like I’m pretending, wouldn’t be afraid of people in her bed. I slide under the warm covers and watch her back as she turns over. Breathe naturally. In, out. She won’t hurt you.
    She shifts, turns over to look at me. A spindly leg brushes against mine. My neck hairs stand on end, and I fight the instinct to leap out of the bed.
    Mrs. Silverman’s sleepy eyes look alarmed. “Are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
    Be normal. Make up something normal. “It’s fine. Your feet are cold, is all.”
    “You used to sleep between your father and me all the time when you were little.”
    “I had nightmares?”
    “Bad ones about clowns.”
    I shudder.
    She feels it through the bed and laughs into her pillow. “Try to get some rest, honey.”
    The blankets are so soft. The sound of Mrs. Silverman’s steady breathing becomes comforting after a while. I’m so warm.
    Erica is out there, cold, alone.

    Cassie has to explain Sadie Hawkins Day, and even then I don’t get it. A whole event just so girls can ask boys to dance? Why can’t they do that every day?
    “It’s not like males choose females in the wild.” I poke at my cafeteria meatloaf, which, not surprisingly, looks like a burnt rat. “The females of almost every animal species have the first say in who they want their mates to be. And if you think about it, it works the same with human females. We choose who we let kiss us—”
    “Erica, I love you, but I’m not in the mood for Brainiac 101 right now. That’s how Sadie Hawkins works, and how it’ll work until the end of time. No one cares about it anyway, not when prom is right around the corner.” Cass exhales and pulls out a bottle of painkillers. She swallows two and chugs chocolate milk.
    “Cramps?” Merril asks.
    “If by ‘cramps’ you mean ‘end-of-the-world tornados in my ovaries,’ then yeah.” Cass groans, putting her head on the table. She immediately recoils and sits up. “Gross.”
    The bell rings. We get up, and Cassie holds on to my arm for support. “Come with me to my car, guys.”
    “We can’t be late for Gray’s class,” Merril whines. “There’s a test today.”
    “It’ll just take four seconds. God, Merril, think about someone other than yourself for once,” Cass snaps.
    “It’ll be real quick,” I assure Merril. She rolls her eyes and follows us to the parking lot. People are returning from