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I shouldn’t be reading the notes.
“It’s a big school,” Hailey counters.
I'll be honest its kinda contradictory
floor. The instant I slide my fingers through the handles, this thought hits me out of nowhere, and before I have time to react I feel my brain sink its teeth in and latch on tight, already preparing to fight me for it. My hand starts trembling and my mouth goes dry. It’s just a thought. I let the scissors fall to the floor and I shake out my hands a few times, looking around the circle to be sure no one’s watching me. I’m in control. I try again. Rose in one hand, scissors in the other, I squeeze my fingers together, but my palms feel clammy and my fingers are tingling and I can’t get a solid
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i think she has a mental health problem
I drop the scissors on the floor and give them a hard push to get them as far away from me as possible. I throw my arms around Mom’s shoulders, hugging her hard, hoping this is the last time we go through this but knowing it isn’t. The anxiety attacks are like earthquakes. I’m always relieved when the ground stops shaking, but I know there will be another one eventually, and again, I’ll never see it coming.
I hope everything gets better for her
What if I’m crazy?
pool, and when he blows his whistle, my body’s response is purely Pavlovian. Palm over hand, my elbows lock as I press my arms into my ears and throw myself forward, stretching and reaching and holding the position until my fingertips slice through the surface. And then, for ten blissful seconds, there’s no noise at all except the sound of water whooshing past my ears. I kick hard and lock in my song. The first one that pops into my head is a happy tune with catchy lyrics, so I start my butterfly stroke, throwing both arms over my head in perfect synchronization with the beat. Kick, kick,
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its like a rhythm. its natural.
“Whoa! Where on earth did that come from?” When I look up, I’m eye to eye with Brandon. Or, more accurately, eye to chest with Brandon. I force myself to keep looking up, past his thin T-shirt and to his eyes, even though the temptation to check out the way his shorts hug his hips is almost more than I can resist. During my first summer at the club, Brandon was just an older teammate with an insanely fast freestyle who always put up the most points in meets and taught the little kids to swim. But for the last two summers he’s returned from college as a junior coach—my coach—and that makes him
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someone has a crush!
A few seconds later he’s back. “Here.” He wraps a towel around my shoulders and slides it back and forth a few times, and I wait for him to drop the ends, but he doesn’t. I look up at his eyes and realize he’s staring at me. Like…maybe he wants to kiss me. And I know I’m looking at him like I want him to, because I do. It’s all I think about.
it so cute
“Sam? You okay?” I blink fast and shake my head as Brandon releases the towel and I feel it fall slack at my sides. “Where’d you go, kid?”
i was so excited
“I bet I know.”
yeah sure
“Yeah. And you have nothing to worry about. Push yourself like that at county and keep swimming year-round, and you’ll have your choice of college scholarships.” He starts to say something else, but Coach Kevin yells for everyone to take a spot on the wall. Brandon gives me a chummy pat on the shoulder. A coachlike pat. “I know how badly you want this, Sam.”
if only he knew
“Sam. Sweetie. Really. It doesn’t. He grabbed your towel and dried you off a bit. But that’s it. Because he has a girlfriend. In college.” “So?” I lean forward, trying not to make it obvious that I’m looking for him. He’s over by the office, drinking a soda and talking with one of the lifeguards. “So. He has a girlfriend. In college,” she repeats, stressing the last word. “He talks about her all the time, and it’s obvious to everyone except you that he’s totally in love with her.”
ok thats embarassing as hell
But it’s coming to an end. In two weeks, I’ll be back in school,
currently, even i have only a week until school starts
I’ll be Samantha again. And more than anything, I’ll be missing Sam.
in the summertime i'm sam. just a hot girl with a hot life. but theres smth no one knows abt me yet.
“Why?” Mom asks as she fills a bowl with cereal for Paige. “She knows it’s against the law to drive with passengers in your first year.” Of course Alexis knows the law, she’s just surprised I’m following it since most people don’t.
there's js some things parents don't understand
I shove the phone back in my pocket and hitch my backpack over my shoulder. “Have a good day, sixth grader,” I say to Paige as she spoons a big bite of cereal into her mouth.
I'm also going into 6th
But every once in a while, I’d glance down at the odometer, fascinated by the way the numbers changed. I felt this strange charge whenever the last digit hit the number three. When I finally pulled into the driveway that evening, the last digit was resting on a six, so I backed out again and drove around the block a few times until the odometer stopped where it belonged. And now I have to do that every time I park. I’m not about to let Alexis and the rest of my friends in on my secret, so I’m happy to have the law as an excuse to drive alone.
she has ocd
Alexis looks at me and her eyebrows knit together. “Saturday’s my birthday, Samantha.”
look she might not have meant it. Don't js snap so easily at sam.
“True, but our moms,” she says, gesturing to Kaitlyn and Olivia, “knew each other when we were in preschool,” and the two of them nod like that explains everything. Then they actually have the audacity to start opening their envelopes in front of us.
Rude!
“You’re not upset, are you?” Alexis asks sweetly.
ugh! mean gurls
“Let me guess.” She taps her finger against her temple. “Your locker-wrapping best friends are actually manipulative bitches?” I look up at her from under my eyelashes. “Sometimes. Is it that obvious?” “You can take in a lot of information from a few lockers away.” She scoots back into her chair and slides down, kicking her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles, mirroring my posture exactly. “You know what you need?” I don’t answer her, and after a long pause she says, “Nicer friends.”
I think Caroline will be a better friend than the Eights.
Sam. Caroline’s looking at me as if this whole thing is completely fascinating. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, exactly the way my psychiatrist does when she wants me to keep talking. So I do.
I would do the same in Caroline's place. It's pretty interesting, but a dense/heavy topic.
The elevator is already waiting. I press 7 and then, because I can’t help it, I press 7 two more times. As soon as I open the office door and step inside, Colleen’s head pops up from behind the counter and her whole face brightens. “Ah, it must be Wednesday!”
i think she's at her psychiatrist's.
“Hey, Sam!” Sue crosses the room to greet me. She’s this tiny Japanese woman with thick black hair that hangs to her shoulders, and she’s always impeccably dressed. She looks like she’d be refined and soft-spoken until she opens her mouth.
Luv the diverse representation
Until that point, I hadn’t really stopped to question whether or not psychiatrists appreciated being called shrinks. I was only eleven years old. And I didn’t want to offend her, but once I’d said it, I couldn’t take it back. But Sue said she liked the name. And she told me I could call her anything. I could even call her a bitch, to her face or behind her back, because there would certainly be times I’d want to. I liked her even more after that.
she seems like a good person
“Well, she’s not like any of the Crazy Eights,” I say, picturing her long stringy hair and lack of makeup and those chunky hiking boots. “She’s kind of awkward, but she’s nice. I barely know her, but I already think she sort of…gets me.”
Their friendship might require weekly therapy, but I have fun with them. And I’d be truly crazy to say good-bye to parties every weekend, cute guys crowded around us at lunch, and VIP tickets to every major concert that comes to town.
I partially agree, but I also agree w/ her psychiatrist
“Friend. Singular. One person.” I hold up a finger. “And no one can ever know about Caroline.”
“Because.” The word comes out all wobbly. “If they kick me out—” I can’t finish my thought. I squeeze the back of my neck three times, as hard as I can, but it doesn’t help. “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
Cassidy is squeezing me hard; her nose is all scrunched up and her mouth is open, like she’s screaming. Dad took it right after I beat her time by a tenth of a second, breaking her record in girls’ butterfly. I was afraid she’d be upset, but she wasn’t. “Friendship.”
so sweet
“I’m going to make swimming a priority, so I can get a scholarship and go to the college of my choice. Even if it’s far away.”
My goal totally doesn't compare to that.
EVERYONE HATES ME BECAUSE I’M PARANOID.
true lol.
His forehead creases. “Fine. But it’s not like this makes us friends or anything.” Friends? My friends don’t call me Sam. “Why would I think we’re friends? I don’t even know you.”
ooh hot guy alert!!
She gives me a supportive nudge with her elbow. “Don’t worry about it. You did great.”
is this some sort ofconfidence test or what?
I count five other people in the room.
wait there's eight people js like the crazy eights.
She’s grinning ear to ear, and as we take our seats again, she threads her arm through mine and rests her chin on my shoulder. “I knew it,” she says. “I was right about you.”
“What about Hailey?” She purses her lips and looks around, checking to be sure we’re alone. “No…” she draws the single word out, like it’s a musical note. “Not Hailey. You.” She pokes my collarbone. And now I know precisely where I reside on her social ladder: second rung from the bottom. Hailey occupies the last one, and as soon as she learns I’m invited to Alexis’s birthday and she’s not, she’ll know it too.
No. Don't go there, Sam.
“Is Hailey spending the night?” I ask. The spa might not be able to accommodate all five of us, but Alexis’s enormous bedroom doesn’t have any space constraints. “That would be awkward, don’t you think?” I think it would be better than nothing, but I don’t say so. “In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? I wouldn’t want to hurt Hailey’s feelings.” No. Of course you wouldn’t.
WALKING RED FLAG!
I’m still trying to piece it together as I step into the shower to rinse off the chlorine. I’m alone in the locker room, so I start humming as I pull on my sweats and pile my hair into a messy bun. On the drive home, I leave the stereo off because I prefer his song over anything I have on a playlist. And I have to remember all the lyrics. It’s driving me nuts.
Let's js say the OCD is serious.
Hailey would have loved this, too.
She closes the trunk and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I tried to order another one yesterday, but it was too late.” “That’s okay.” I feel my lower lip start to quiver, so I bite it hard. “But I have something extra special for you. I want you to pick out anything you want from the gift shop, okay? And I mean anything.”
Bluffs
The car pulls into my driveway and I can’t get out fast enough. She never wanted me to come. Alexis tells me she hopes I feel better. Kaitlyn and Olivia echo her words, yelling out the window as they drive away. “We’ll miss you tonight,” Kaitlyn says. No you won’t. “We love you,” Olivia adds. No you don’t. As soon as I close the front door behind me, the tears start falling and the thoughts flood in faster and faster, tumbling over each other, pushing themselves to the front, fighting for my attention. I shouldn’t have gone.
See. That's what I said.
“It’s dumb, right? I shouldn’t be upset. It was last minute…” I let my words hang in the air as I check Caroline’s reaction. She doesn’t say anything, but her face scrunches up and I can tell she doesn’t think I’m dumb at all.
Cara doesn't judge her unlike her "friends".
“Are you sure? Because you can tell me if I am. I have a tendency to overthink things, especially when it comes to my friends, and I don’t know…I take things too personally. I mean, it isn’t always them. Sometimes it’s me. I just don’t always know when it’s them and when it’s me, you know?”
I can totally relate.
“Is it really dark?” she continues. “It’s okay if it is. My stuff can get pretty dark, too.”
same
She doesn’t laugh, but the room is completely silent. I open my eyes and look at her, waiting for a reaction. She hated it. “We have to get you back downstairs,” Caroline finally says, and I can hear the sincerity in her voice, can see it in her face. She liked it.
“Caroline. How did I hurt him? I don’t even know him.” “Yes, you do.” I remember how he stood in front of me, blocking my way into Poet’s Corner the other day. He looked familiar, but I’ve never known anyone named AJ, and he’s cute enough, especially with that dimple and that adorable guitar-playing thing of his, that I would have remembered him if we’d met before. “Are you going to tell me?” She shakes her head. “You’ll figure it out.” I stare at her in disbelief. “I don’t want to figure it out, Caroline. I want you to tell me.” That might have sounded bitchy. I didn’t mean it to, but I can’t
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she's so mysterious along w/the rest of her group.
I hurt him. And Caroline’s leaving. But she likes my poem. I like talking to her. I don’t want her to leave. “It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to tell me. Please…stay.” It’s killing me not to know what I did, but there are plenty of other things I want to talk to her about. I want to ask her about all the poets. I want to know about that room and how it got there and how it works, and I want her to read me some of her poems. I want to be her friend. She turns around and looks at me. I hurry over to my nightstand, grab the blue notebook from the pile, and hold it up in the air. “I want to get
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Cara is such a nice person, and she's not judgy either.
He steps out of my personal space and I have a chance to look at him. Really look at him. His dark blond hair is poking out from under the cap, and his eyes are this interesting brownish-green that’s almost the same color as the T-shirt he’s wearing. He’s not clean-cut, like most of my guy friends. He’s scruffier, but in a sexy way. I try to read the expression on his face, but I can’t, and it bothers me because there’s something about the way he’s looking at me right now that makes me feel sorry for him. He looks sweet, maybe even shy, and nothing like the confident guy I watched perform on
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I swear from the start they were mean girls
