Page 6 of Before We're More Than Friends
I rolled my eyes before I started to write.
Twenty minutes had passed by the time I put my letter in aglittery purple envelope and sealed it up. To think I hadn’t been thrilled about being put in the pen pal program and now had just opened up to a complete stranger about my roller coaster of a life was wild.
Something about the way Alex had responded made me feel appreciated and wanted, not just someone he had to talk to for a school project. And I couldn’t know everything about him just from one letter, but he was pretty fun.
My dad knocked on the door before cracking it open with a smile. “Hey, ladies.” He looked at me. “Have you written back to your pan pal?”
I nodded, clutching the envelope to my chest. “Can we go to the post office?” We usually had our home chef and maid, Francesca, do errands like that for us, but I wanted to slip the letter into the slot for this one.
“Hey, I want to come!” Isabelle got up from the floor. “And Penrose.”
“You know she hates the car.”
“Bull . . .” Isabelle’s big brown eyes went to my dad, and her cheeks flushed. “Dog poop.”
Dad shared an eye roll with me before the three of us got in his car and went to the post office. When I dropped the letter into the slot, I imagined how Alex would do the same with the same excitement I had.
Once we got home, Isabelle and I took Penrose to the dog park not too far from my neighborhood. Isabelle wasn’t allowed to have a dog, so she lived through me and Penrose. Her dad wanted her to have a dog, but her mom refused it because of how high-maintenance it was.
“I’ll never not be jealous of you,” Isabelle said as we arrived at the park.
“Um, there are many reasons why you shouldn’t be jealous of me.”
She shoved my shoulder. “I’m talking about you and your dog. I swear if I could just sneak her into my house. Or just get rid of my mom entirely. I’d do anything for a dog.”
I resisted the urge to sigh, preparing for another one of these speeches. “I don’t think a dog is worth losing your mom.”
“You say that as if I would have to sacrifice her for a dog.” She sighed as she sat on a bench. “I don’t know, the lady gets on my nerves. Wear this, don’t say that, make sure you smile.” She made a blabber motion with her hand, rolling her eyes to the moon and back. “All she does is annoy people.”
I laughed and rubbed Penrose’s stomach. “It’s part of the role.”
Isabelle slouched in her seat, looking at the sky. “At least you’re already cheering up. I’m always here for you, but sitting in your room in silence was getting old. There weren’t even tears.”
“Everyone grieves in different ways.” And I had been crying every day, but I held the tears in when Isabelle was here. She was a sympathy crier, and the last thing I wanted was to turn my bedroom into a pond.
“It really sucks that they had to give you a label. I mean, it will help with closure and your treatment?—”
“Oh, gosh, not treatment.” I grunted, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face. “That makes me sound like I’m sick.”
“You are.”
“Well, thanks!”
“I’m sorry.” Isabelle sighed, rubbing my arm. “I just don’t know what to say.”
“Doesn’t that make me feel great,” I muttered as I slouched against the bench. I knew I was being a jerk, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m so broken that I’m knocking people speechless.”
“Oh, Rainy, that’s not true.” Isabelle put her hand in mine. Ihad the urge to pull it away, but I didn’t follow it. “We’ll get through this together like we always do, okay?”
“But this is so much different than ‘always.’”
“I know, but you’re going to get the help you need. Your parents are here, you have psychologists who know what they’re doing, and I’m here for emotional support.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t want toneedhelp. I want to be normal.”
“You are normal, Rainy. There’s no such thing as normal.”
I snorted, despite the frustration that coursed through me. “I can’t believe you tried contradicting yourself to make me feel better.”
