Just Listen

by Sarah Dessen

I went back downstairs, where I found Kirsten sitting at the kitchen table with my father, an untouched grilled cheese on a plate in front of her. “Look,” she was saying as I opened the cabinet to pull out a glass, “she explains it all away really well. She’ll have Mom brainwashed in three seconds.”

There was more, of course, but I couldn’t hear it. And by the time I was called for dinner an hour later, whatever had happened was over, and we were back in default Greene family mode, pretending everything was just fine. And from the outside, I was sure it at least looked that way.

From my seat at the table, I could always see when cars passing slowed down slightly, the drivers glancing in at us for this snapshot, a happy family seated around a hearty meal. But everyone knows looks can be deceiving.

“Whitney.” I put my hand on her face. Her skin was hot, wet, and her eyelids fluttered. I reached down, shaking her shoulder. “Whitney, wake up.” She didn’t. But she did move, just enough that the towel came loose. And then, finally, I saw what my sister had done to herself. She was all bones.

There were some weeks when it seemed like Whitney was really getting better, gaining weight, clearly on her way. And then there were others when she’d refuse to eat breakfast, or get caught doing forbidden crunches in her room late at night, and only the threat of having to go back into the hospital and be force-fed was enough to make her get back in line.

And how small my mother seemed with all of us bent around her, pulling her closer, shielding her with our bodies, as if without us to hold her down, she might just fly away.

After a short pause, Mallory proceeded to do both of these things, audibly. When I glanced back again, she was sitting there, in full pout mode, her arms crossed over her chest. When I looked at her, she brightened up immediately.

“Maybe you should tell her that,” he said. “It’s not that simple.” “Huh,” he said. “Call me crazy, but I’m sensing a theme here.”

When I reached the one at the very bottom, though, I saw that the cover was blank, except for two words: JUST LISTEN. Instantly, I was suspicious. “Is this techno?” I asked him. “I can’t believe you’d just assume that,” he said, offended. “God.”

I started back toward the conference room. I’d only taken a couple of steps, though, when I heard Mallory hiss, “Mom, I can’t believe you did that to me.” “Did what?” “Humiliated me like that,” Mallory said. “You owe me an apology.” “Honey,” Mrs. Armstrong said, sighing, “I’m really not clear on what the problem is. Maybe if you…”

Still, I stayed where I was a moment longer, watching as Mrs. Armstrong finally stood and she and Mallory started toward the exit. Mallory didn’t look particularly happy, but when, after a few steps, her mom reached down for her fingers, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she wrapped her hand around her mom’s, quickening her pace, and they walked out the doors together.

Owen nodded at her, a flat expression on his face. “Hello, Elinor,” he said. At the sound of her name, her face flushed pink and she picked up speed, darting out the door and down the hallway, where she was greeted with a burst of giggling.

“See?” Owen said. I could feel his shoulder against mine, his face only inches away, as we both peered down at the image. “That’s what you look like.”

I looked up at him, and then, before I knew what was happening, he was turning his head slightly, bending down to me. I closed my eyes, and then his lips were right there, soft on mine, and I stepped closer, pressing myself against—

“Huh,” she said, flipping to the next picture, which was Elinor again, this time sprawled on the floor, mouth half open. “What’s that called?” “I don’t think that has a name,” I said.

Then he shifted, moving closer to me, and I felt his arm press against mine, his skin warm. And then, finally, Owen kissed me—really kissed me—and I couldn’t hear anything: not the water, the music, or even my own heart, which had to be pounding. Instead, it was just silence, the very best kind, stretching out forever, or only a moment, and then it was over.

“Annabel, Annabel, Annabel Greene.” Shhh, Annabel. It’s just me.

Ik its a fucked up memory but that rhymes lol

That when the cops came for Will on Saturday night, he cried when the cops cuffed him. That Will’s dad bailed him out within hours, then hired him the best lawyer in town. That Sophie was telling everyone that Emily had always been hot for Will, and when he wasn’t interested, she cried rape. And that while Sophie was not at school today, Emily was.

thought being alone was preferable. I am still the center sister. But I see it differently now. There has to be a middle. Without it, nothing can ever truly be whole. Because it is not just the space between, but also what holds everything together.

“Like you were handling my not saying anything? You were furious with me.” “So what? I was entitled,” he said. He glanced at the console again. “People get mad, Annabel. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You don’t understand,” I said to him now. “Then tell me, and maybe I will,” he shot back, pushing the empty chair in front of him toward me.

There comes a time in every life when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you’d better learn to know the sound of it. Otherwise you’ll never understand what it’s saying.

“Mallory told me to give it to you,” he said. “But…” “But?” I said. “…I didn’t,” he finished. I knew maybe I shouldn’t ask. But I did anyway. “Why not?” “I liked it,” he said with a shrug. “I wanted to hang on to it.”

And when I felt myself really wavering, I looked at Whitney, who never flinched. She was strongest of us all, and I kept my eyes on her, all the way to the end.