BooksBarbecue
Back When We Were Friends
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. 31
  6. 14
  7. 31
  8. 14
  9. 31
  10. 14
  11. 31
  12. 14
  13. 31
  14. 15
  15. 31
  16. 16
  17. 32
  18. 16
  19. 32
  20. 17
  21. 32
  22. 17
  23. 32
  24. 17
  25. 32
  26. 17
  27. 32
  28. 18
  29. 32
  30. 18
  31. 32
  32. 18
  33. 32
  34. 18
  35. 32
  36. 18
  37. 32
  38. 18
  39. 32
  40. 18
  41. 32
  42. 18
  43. 32
  44. 18
  45. 32
  46. 32
  47. 33
  48. 33
  49. 33
  50. Acknowledgments
  51. Discussion Questions
  52. Booklist

He ignored me. “So, what day are you leaving?”

“In two days. Help me get her up.”

My memory failed me after that point. A smudge of time, and I was in our hotel room, Jessica putting me in the shower to warm me up. Another smudge, and she was putting me into pajamas. “I don’t think he likes me,” I started wailing. “Why do boys never fancy me?”

“Shh. Shh.”

“I really like him.”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

Lights out.

Lurched up in the dark. “I’m going to be sick.”

The acidic burn of coconut liquid projecting from the back of my throat. Crying like you always cry when you’re sick.

“Sorry. Sorry,” I repeated, grasping the edges of the loo.

Jessica’s hand rubbed my back. “Shh. Shh. It’s OK. You’re going to be OK.”

More sick. More sick. I had a little sleep on the floor next to the toilet on the bath mat, Jessica spooning me from behind. I smiled. Fell unconscious again.

I woke up when she put me back to bed. “Who won the poker?”

“Don’t worry about that now. Come on, go to sleep.”

When I woke, I initially thought it was morning. I sat upright, expecting to see a thin line of light escaping the hotel’s blackout blinds. I was mostly sober now. Though my throat burned and my mouth was bone-dry. I tumbled through the darkness and shoved my mouth under the tap, gulping as much water as I could. I peed, wiped, and flashes of the evening revealed themselves. I folded forward on the toilet, my stomach hurting at the half memories. Maybe I’d start going on my parents’ excursions? I could avoid George that way. I put the loo seat down, not flushing in case it woke Jessica, and padded back to my pretzel of white sheets, listening to the dim hum of the air conditioner and the sound of Jessica’s heavy breathing.

Except, I noticed, there was no sound of Jessica’s heavy breathing.

“Jessica?” I whispered.

No stirring. No sound coming from the bed beside me.

“Jessica?” I asked a little louder.

I reached out, and gently prodded her bed, expecting to find the warm lump of her body, but my hand found only air. I sat up and turned the light on.

Her bed was empty.

I stared at it in total shock for a moment—taking in the unmade sheets, the dent in the pillow her face had left, the complete lack of Jessica where she was supposed to be, at 1:00 a.m. in a foreign country. Then I closed my eyes and sighed as the truth whispered itself to me.