Page 31 of The Comeback Summer

The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I tamp it down and fold my arms, holding myself together against the onslaught of another memory.

“Why?” I demand, more harshly than intended. Why does he want to see me now, after all these years?

He stops walking and looks at me seriously, his dark eyebrows drawing together. Josh’s thinking face. “We’re on the same Down & Dirty team, so we should train together sometimes,” he says. Then, quieter: “And I’d like to... spend time with you, I guess. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

A lump forms in my throat. It’s true for me, too. Josh is the only person who’s ever made me feel so comfortable, so accepted, so free to be myself—except for my sister, which isn’t quite the same.

I could use a friend like that again.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my arms folded. If he tries to hug me like he did at the coffee shop, I might cry. “We can try to be friends.”

His face breaks into a smile, his dimple winking. “I’ll take that.”

Crush Your Comfort Zone

THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE COMPANION JOURNAL

WEEK 2

This week, we continue getting to know your comfort zone.

First, imagine your comfort zone as an actual, physical space. Is it indoors or outdoors? Is it light and airy, or dim and cozy? Are you alone, or is anyone else there with you?

Write about what you have imagined.

Hannah, 6/12

I’m running on a path in a forest at sunrise. It’s so quiet that all I can hear is the sound of my own breath; my footfalls are dampened by the carpet of soft leaves under my feet. And there’s a sense that I have all the time in the world, that I don’t have anything else to do in this moment but run. No to-do list; no worries. I get to choose the path, too. Run whatever direction I want.

It’s funny, because in real life I’d never go running alone in a forest. I wouldn’t feel calm or safe; I’d feel nervous and vulnerable. And I’d never be able to wipe my brain free of all thoughts.

Which makes me wonder if maybe the comfort of this imaginary scenario is more about the fact that I’m free from all expectations. No one is around, dictating what I do. I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself. I can go where I want to go.

Thirteen

LIBBY

Lou is coming to the office this morning for our first official check-in—and I’m nauseous with nerves. It’s like that dream where I’m not prepared for a huge math test, because instead of studying, I’ve been staring at Hot Math Teacher all semester, thinking of him plus me, minus all our clothing.

My palms are sweaty as I reach for the blue pen from the rainbow of colored pens I have splayed out on my desk—one for each page. Hopefully this will make it less obvious that I filled out most of the entries this morning. I don’t want Lou to think I’m not taking this seriously, but honestly, I don’t know how writing about my feelings is supposed to help me get in better shape.

Our assignments for the first week are all about getting to know our comfort zones—which at least is something I’m intimately familiar with.

When did your comfort zone develop?

In the womb, I write, then switch the blue pen for a purple one and turn the page.

Describe the sensory experience of your comfort zone: sights, sounds, smells, and feelings.

I close my eyes and a feeling of calm washes over me. I’m curled up on our couch, a paperback romance novel in hand, Mr.Darcy wedged in the curve of my legs, purring softly. The love of my cat might be the closest I get to experiencing true love—the little man is not happy unless part of him is touching part of me.

As far as smells, there’s something sweet in the oven; salted oatmeal raisin cookies at the magic point when the outer layer puffs up and turns a perfect shade of brown. The scene is so vivid that my mouth actually starts to water.

“Ready, sisters?” Great Scott pops his head into our office, interrupting.

I look at the time on my computer.Shit.Lou is going to be here any minute.

“Did you download the app?” I ask Hannah, who is sitting at her desk, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She’s deep in one of her Excel spreadsheets.

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