Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Dedication
- MARCH
- CHAPTER
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- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Which we did, by Agatha remaining in the chair by the window while I carefully hung and folded my new clothes in my tiny bedroom.
As I worked, I tried to reconcile Laura and John’s image of Agatha with the impression she’d made on me. Was I misinterpreting the things she’d done? After all, how bad was any of it, really? Hiding from me and putting my things on the floor? Those were just little pranks. Or it was entirely possible she’d just been confused. Maybe Agatha didn’t like change. Maybe she didn’t even understand what was going on.
After a few minutes, I started to feel genuinely guilty for my negative assumptions. I also worried that maybe I was missing the point of this exercise, which was for us to spend time together. So I walked over to the window—slowly, so as not to startle her—and said, “Agatha, would you like to come sit with me while I put away my new clothes?”
I figured I’d let her ignore me for a respectable amount of time and then get back to work. But just as I was about to give up, she stood.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t think you were actually going to come. Okay, hang on. I’ll clear you a spot.”
I hurriedly pushed some of the clothes out of the way to make room for her.
She sank onto the bed without comment, then proceeded to stare at the door.
“It was nice of your mom to give me these clothes,” I said. “I guess they’re yours, so . . . thank you.”
No answer, obviously.
“They’re not really my style, but they’re, um, high quality. I mean, I don’t have a style anymore. I used to—I used to be, like—well, not trendy, I just wore what I liked. I was cool, though, I had cool friends. I can say that now because I’m not cool anymore.” As if that needed to be pointed out.
My voice trailed off as I realized that nothing I was saying seemed to be making any sort of impression, positive or negative.
I looked at her for a second and sighed. How could I have thought she was plotting against me?
Whether she answered or not, it felt wrong to be in such close quarters with someone without talking. So I babbled on.