Page 53 of Under Pressure

“And your mom would make pizza rolls and mozzarella sticks for us. It was the only time I was allowed to have junk food. I lived for those nights.”

Kelsey’s mom was always really restrictive with her diet. I think it’s why she doesn’t have a clue how to cook anything now.

She leans forward to grab a hair tie off the coffee table and ties off my braid. “Voila. You’re finished.”

I cautiously touch the back of my head, stroking the thick mass of hair. “Thanks.” I’ll just be taking it out soon, unable to sleep with it this tightly bound. I’ll have a headache when I wake otherwise.

She grabs the last handful of popcorn, stuffing it in her mouth. “Hey, will you make some more?”

“Hold on, this is my favorite part.” Westley tumbles down the hill, calling outAs you wiiiish.

“Please? I’m starving.”

Jesus, she already ate a whole bag. I mean, it was probably one of her stupid one hundred calorie bags. I always wonder what the point is of her buying those when she eats three in a single sitting, but what do I know?

On the screen, he and Buttercup embrace, my heart warming at their reunion. What would it be like to have someone love you that much, to come back for you like that?

“Mia?”

“It’s your popcorn, why don’t you get it?”

“You’ve already seen this movie,” she whines. “I haven’t.”

What, she can’t pause it? “Fine,” I grumble, heading to the kitchen. Well, if I have to make popcorn, I’m at least going to use one of my own bags. I stick it in the microwave, watching through the breakfast bar as they head into the fire swamp.

When I set the filled bowl down in front of her, she greedily grabs another handful, pausing as the first piece hits her mouth. “This has butter.”

Yeah. What’s the point in eating it if it has no flavor?

“Why didn’t you cook one of the fat-free bags?”

“You asked me to make popcorn, so I made it. This is the kind I like.” Besides, she eats the desserts I bake all the time. Those definitely aren’t fat-free. I pop a few pieces in my mouth, the warm butter and salt melting on my tongue. Mmm.

“Ugh, do I have to do everything by myself around here?” She gets up dramatically and stomps into the kitchen, angrily opening the pantry door to rip open a bag, and smashes the buttons on the microwave.

I calmly pick up the popcorn bowl and head into my room, not caring about her theatrics right now. This is why we stopped those sleepovers halfway through high school. It always devolved into something like this. That, and she discovered boys. I’m still not sure why I even got a place with Kelsey to begin with. Our moms pushed for it, and I didn’t have anyone else I wanted to live with, so it was convenient.

But we’ve diverged too much lately, different people now than we were as little girls, forced on play dates together. But it would probably be too awkward to try and find another roommate for senior year, and Mom wouldn’t be happy, even though she’s moved away now and doesn’t see Kelsey’s mother regularly anymore.

I settle on my bed, pulling out my laptop to get started on an assignment for my Statistical Reasoning class. It would have been nice to finish the movie. I haven’t seen it in years, since I lived with my parents. But I know how it ends.

Some things don’t change.

* * *

“Thanks, guys.” I wave. “I’ll see you next week.”

I exit out of one of the private study rooms in the library where I’ve been meeting with two other girls in my Abnormal Psych class to study. We formed the group spontaneously one day after moaning about how hard it is to keep track of all the many disorders with similar, yet not quite the same, symptoms. It’s made a world of difference in my comprehension of the dense material.

Now I’m wondering if I should try to do the same thing in my Mythology class. Maybe then I won’t feel like an idiot every time Dr. Vasquez calls on me.

I hug my jacket tighter around me as I leave the library and turn toward the psych building. I’ve got twenty-five minutes till my first biofeedback session, and nearly ten of that will be spent walking across campus.

“Hey, Mia.”

I startle, looking away from the sidewalk in front of me to find Brad, sitting on a bench just off the path, a Starbucks cup in his hand. His golden hair shines in the weak sunlight filtering down through the clouds, a charming smile on his face. I’d be nervously flattered if he’d singled me out and smiled last semester during our class together, but it isn’t quite the same now.

After earning Tyler’s hard-won smiles, anything else seems second-rate.

---