Page 37 of Wherever You Are
I eye the tiny closet.
Bingo.
I snatch the laptop off my bed before heading to the closet. It’s not a walk-in. So I bend down and sit beneath hanging overalls and plain T-shirts. Wedged under the clothes, I pry my fingers under the doorframe and scoot the door towards me until it’s pretty much shut.
Darkness.
And finally, some muffled quiet.
I let out a sigh.
So this is sort of what Harry Potter must’ve felt like. I bet he had more room under the Dursley’s staircase.
I push up my drooping glasses. “Can you hear me?” I ask Daisy and open my laptop, the bright screen illuminating the closet with a blue tint.
“A ton better,” Daisy tells me. “Where’d you go?”
“The closet. Maybe Skype will be louder.” I’m about to ask if she has time to video-chat, but she’s already dialing me on Skype.
My lip twitches in a smile, one I haven’t felt much tonight. I click into her Skype call, and her radiant, photogenic face pops on screen.
“Hey there.” She bites on a red Twizzler, blonde hair hanging against a crop top that says,yeehaw!“If Garrison wasn’t coming, I’d totally fly out there and whisk you away from the madness.” She tucks her long legs to her chest. “We’d ride off into the sunset away from the loud and into the quiet.”
I touch my silver pinky ring, and through the computer screen, I see the identical one on her finger. My lips keep rising. “Sounds nice.” I fix my glasses again. “I’m not bothering you too much, am I? I know the summer just ended, but camp stuff has to still be eating your time.” She’s the founder of Camp Calloway, and she’s spent so much energy building this adventurous getaway for kids in the mountains.
“Camp stuff has been dying down, and I like catching up with you.” She twiddles with a frayed string on her crop top, not able to sit still. “I don’t want you to think…that you can’t call or anything.”
Daisy has a baby now, a husband, a new career, and an ocean is between us.
Sometimes it scares me too that we might drift apart, but I know, deep in my heart, that she’s the friend I’ll have forever. Not just because she’s married to Ryke, my half-brother.
It’s what she said: if she were here, she’d help me escape the party, not try to pull me deeper into it.
Daisy loves the quiet as much as me.
“I don’t think that,” I say softly. “I’ll always call when I can.”
She’s about to smile, but she flinches as screamingblastson my end. Screaming that usually accompanies sports games.
“I hate beer pong,” I murmur under my breath.
“You can ride it out with me until Garrison gets there,” Daisy suggests. “I’m just at the cottage for lunch.” The cottage is her quaint stone house at the end of the cul-de-sac, down the street from Lily and Rose in Philly.
My shoulders loosen, less tensed. She doesn’t pressure me to go “mingle” and try to have fun with strangers. I know who I am, and I know it’s not my cup of tea. Daisy never makes me drink the anxiety-inducing concoction.
“Thanks, Daisy.” I try to stretch my leg in the cramped closet, the laptop swaying on my thighs. I lift my neck, and overalls smack my face. I push them aside. “I’m hoping this party is just a first-week ‘welcome back to college’ celebratory thing.”
Bass intensifies and vibrates the floor beneath me.
Let this be a one-time occurrence.
Please.
I’m not made for house parties. I might’ve found college friends in London, but I’m still the same girl who lurks in corners of comic book shops and tries not to bump into shelves or strangers. I don’t want to be in anyone’s way, even with my roommates.
I’m an introvert at the core, and after one big group outing, I feel like I need to recharge alone for a whole week.
Staying in and watching Netflix sounds better than hitting the bars or inviting people to throw back shots and chitchat.
