The Girl In Between (The Girl in Between, #1)

by Laekan Zea Kemp

He was the color of a hydrangea before it blooms, wilting like one too, every inch of him sunken and bruised.

“So what if you live life on a different schedule?” he said. “You’re still living it.”

“It’s still good,” my grandmother said. My aunt snatched it out of her hands. “You’re going to kill yourself.” “Well, good riddance,” my grandmother said as she made her way back to the couch.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” “Hello,” Dani said. “I can’t even see your boobs.” “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I believe the very definition of a shirt is something that covers your boobs.”

My dearest Bryn, dream with your heart and the universe will bend at your will.

even though Dani was afraid to be alone she was also afraid to get hurt again. Because the moment you find out you’re not exempt from heartache, it feels like that’s all you’re good for.

I expected a repeat of his last lecture. You’re not weak. This isn’t you. But he didn’t say any of it. He didn’t say anything for a long time and I thought maybe he was finally giving me permission not just to be weak but to be honest about it.

I wanted to make something that would last. I liked knowing that there were pieces of me—strong, unyielding, permanent pieces that weren’t sick or weak or afraid. They were perfectly intact even when I wasn’t and when I disappeared for good, slipping into one last long sleep, those pieces of me would still be there. Somewhere.

I stuck a finger in his gut and he coughed. “Are you kidding me? Those abs are practically made of steel.”

That almost imperceptible fissure in the fabric of the universe, that split second he’d managed to slip in between the cracks and land in my memories. He was out there, in the flesh, I knew it.

“You may not get to…” “I get it. Trust me. I am expectation free,” I said, even though I’d already decorated my dorm in my head and decided what I’d pack and made my class schedule. “Zero expectations.”

I usually rushed our hugs and pulled away when she tried to kiss me on the cheek. I was distant because being close made me feel weak. But in that moment, I was weak. I was worried.

She was lucky. Most people were, they just couldn’t see it.

I told her you could wear her old one; save her some money. I still have it under my bed, you know. But oh no, that woman won’t even reuse her paper plates.”

Her hands slipped into mine, twisting, gripping me tight, and it was that small weight that cracked me. That made it feel okay to spill into her lap. So I did. Burying my face. Letting her string herself through the pieces of me, binding them, making me feel whole. Just for a second, our threads entwined, I remembered how to breathe. I remembered. I remembered.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Felix said. “Maybe a little strange, maybe even a little—” I kicked the back of his seat. “Unique. I was going to say unique.”

When I got home I found her in the bathtub. I looked down and I saw pieces of me scattered along the base of the tub, my reflection caught in the pieces of the broken mirror.

my instincts weren’t telling me to run. They weren’t telling me to hide or to be afraid. No. Every cell in my body was telling me to burn.