Page 44 of Outspoken

Dismissing my irritation, she links her arm with mine, guiding us forward. “I’m not the one who changed. You did. We need to get you back to your fun self.” She turns us toward a less populated area behind a nearby food truck. “You remember that time, like—damn, I think we were in our early twenties. Maybe twenty-three? We went to Taylor Mata’s house for her sister's birthday party.”

I yank my arm away from hers. “Vaguely.”

“You were a little tipsy, not yet wasted or ready to take pills, and some guy had been hitting on you the entire night. He was drunk out of his mind and gross, so I was helping you avoid him. I think we were in a corner or something. I don’t know.” She gulps her drink. “But, he found us and we were basically trapped, listening to him sob about his ex-girlfriend while trying to ask you out. Thiscrazyhot guy, like, glistening dark skin and a broad chest and beautiful teeth, comes to our rescue. You convinced him to do karaoke. But not a duet.” She laughs and pushes my arm playfully. “Girl, you got him to strip dance. I think it was a Shania Twain song, and it didn’t match what he was doingat all. After, like, the fourth round of you singing just really, really awful karaoke, you had maybe six guys all dancing for you like you were some pop diva giving a concert.”

I can’t help but smile at the memory, flashes of that night coming back to me. I didn’t end up drinking much because I hooked up with the hot guy shortly after karaoke. I slept at his place, and he made me bacon and eggs in the morning. Then we watchedJaws.

It’s strange how I’ll forget important details from my past, yet remember odd, random things that are mostly useless.

“That was a fun night,” I admit.

Grinning, Ashley says, “See? I know, right? I missthatAmber.” She gets in my face, squinting. “Is she still in there?”

The darkness in my head swirls like bits of smoke. I miss that Amber too. Fun Amber. Doesn't Give a Shit Amber. She seems so much better than Boring, Responsible Amber—the one who's always lost and doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing anymore besides going through the motions.

Stay sober.

Complete meaningless busy work.

Get through the day and start the next one.

Monotony.

Ashley pulls a small, brown glass vial from her purse and hands me her drink. After glancing around to make sure no one is watching us, she unscrews the top, scooping white powder from the vial with a little stick that was inside. She brings the powder to a nostril and snorts it.

I lower my voice, not believing what I just watched her do. “You’re doing coke now? You have a toddler.”

She closes the vial and drops it back into her purse as if she had just applied more lipstick—something ordinary. She gives me a weird look. “And? I don’t do itaroundher. Mom’s watching Ivy, and I’m here to de-stress from her constant nagging and crying and shitting. She shits all over the place. It’s so gross.” She rolls her eyes at me. “The coke will wear off in, like, twenty minutes, so it’ll be out of my system before I get home. I’m a good mom.” I try to give her the drink back, but she holds up a hand. “I need to navigate the outhouses. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

She leaves before I can protest. I’m left alone, feeling queasy, with temptation clutched in my hand. I’m also heartbroken for her toddler.

After locating a standing table, I set the drink down. Then I pull out my phone and text Paige:This festival blows. Wish you were here, though there’s too many people even for me.

Paige responds in an instant:I want to see.

I send her a picture of the crowd and she responds with an exploding-head emoji, making me smile. Then she adds:Are you having fun with your classmates? Any cute guys around?

An invisible knife twists in my gut. I hate this lie. I should've been honest. Then Paige could've talked me out of seeing Ashley. It's not as fun catching up as I had hoped.

I respond:My classmates are okay, but I miss hanging out with you. And no. The top of the crop here is a guy who shoved six burritos in his mouth.

Paige:Six??? Were they mini?

Me:No.

Paige:Gross.

Me:That’s what I said.

Paige:I bet there’s at least one hot guy around. Go mingle.

I tap my stubby nails on the table, thinking of a response. I tried to backpedal recently on a different lie by telling Paige I’m no longer interested in dating. I said I had deleted all of my dating apps, swearing off men forever, and she looked panicked. She told me I’m giving up too soon—that there’s a guy out there who is perfect for me.

I’m not convinced, and I think she’s trying to push me toward dating because she worries about us not spending as much time together. She doesn’t want me to be lonely. We’re both sensing a shift in our friendship, but those changes are normal.

I want her to be happy and to stop worrying about me. I’ll manage.

Or I won’t. But it doesn’t matter either way. She needs to focus on her own life and her future with Brody.

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