The Tension of Opposites by Kristina McBride Page B

standing in the middle of a spring flower, and the music box Coop had bought Elle for Christmas one year with his allowance was still planted in the middle of her dresser. I studied the two windows in her room, their curtains drawn tight. The one above her desk, looking out over the front yard, was where Noelle had peeked out at me the day I’d brought her gift. The other window, next to her bed, faced the side of the house. Staring at it brought back a wave of memories.
    The last summer we’d spent together, Noelle had pulled me out that window and across the roof of her garage several times. She was all legs as she climbed down the fence that butted up against the back of the house, me fumbling behind her, both of us trying to stifle laughter as we went. It was during one of those nights that I had my first and only kiss with a boy. I wondered if she remembered all of that. Then I looked at her, crumpled on her bed, and wondered how this girl in front of me could possibly be the same person.
    â€œThis whole thing sucks.” She choked on the words, trying to contain her sobs.
    â€œYeah.” I stood there, unsure of what to do with my hands, so I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans.
    â€œPeople are walking on eggshells around me. Even my shrink.” Elle wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And me. I just want to see something break.”
    â€œYeah, I can kind of tell.” I smiled, and the corners of Elle’s mouth pulled up a little, too. It made my heart stop, because she almost looked like the old her.
    â€œI know I need to chill. It’s just that … God.” Elle slid the notebook and pen onto the comforter and sat forward, grabbing a pillow from behind her and squeezing it to her chest. “It’s hard.”
    â€œMaybe if you think more about how glad we are to have you home …”
    â€œFor two years”—Elle pressed her palms into her eyes—“all I thought about was everyone I’d left behind.”
    When she lowered her hands and looked at me, I reached out to touch her, but I didn’t know if I should go for her shoulder, or her arm, or her hand, so I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear instead.
    â€œEveryone’s judging me, you know?” Elle looked down at the bedspread, waving her hand at the TV on her dresser. “Reporters who’ve never met me are saying I should have talked. I just want to scream at them. It may have looked like I could’ve gotten away, but it’s like I was tied to this invisible leash.”
    â€œIt was weird.” I rubbed my wrist, scratched at my thin, pale skin. “Hearing that you weren’t actually locked away the whole time.”
    â€œThe thing is … I was,” Elle said.
    Her words hit me hard and made me feel like I was sinking. Like I couldn’t get enough air.
    â€œI wish I could explain it. But I lived it, and I really don’t understand.” Elle looked up at me.
    â€œElle, I’m sorry—”
    â€œI’m so sick of that!” Elle slammed her fist into the mattress. “Everyone’s sorry, pitying me and trying not to say anything that might upset me. Jesus, I wish people would just act normal for once. Coop’s the only one who has the balls to say what’s really on his mind.”
    â€œYou want to know what’s really on my mind?”
    Elle’s head snapped up. “Yes.”
    â€œI missed you. We all missed you.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “And now you’re back, and we’re still missing you. As long as you keep this wall around yourself and refuse to let anyone in, he wins.”
    Elle nodded. “Okay, maybe.”
    â€œUnless you speak up and tell us, we’re not going to know what to say or do. Nobody’s psychic.”
    â€œWe used to be.” Elle smiled, and I felt a little surge of my old friend coming through. “Psychic twins?”
    So there was hope