TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 14

Bailey’s will had remained brick-solid right up until the final bell rang and she saw Meg, shoulders slumped and face long, drag herself onto the bus.

She elected to walk home even though the sky was overcast and the humidity was doing terrible things to her hair. She headed out of the school parking lot, her bag already too heavy for her shoulder, and tried to remind herself that Meg never looked happy, even when she smiled — and that only happened when Chase was around. All she wanted was time, just a little bit of time to enjoy the sparkle and tingle of a brand new friendship that hinted at more to come. The weight on her shoulder felt like it had gotten inside her. Her steps slowed and she raised a hand to rub at her chest.

Okay. Okay, she admitted it. She shouldn’t have ditched the movie or the mall trip or not texted. It wasn’t nice to be forgotten or abandoned. Hadn’t she been mad at her mom for forcing her dad to do just that to her? But it wasn’t intentional. Or — well — not entirely intentional. She got caught up in all that sparkling and tingling and she would explain that to Meg, apologize for that much, at least. Meg would understand.

That put a hitch in her stride.

Meg would not understand — not one bit.

Meg didn’t allow herself to sparkle and tingle and sink into to that soul-soaring feeling you got when a boy looked at you like you were the sun itself. Meg didn’t let herself get caught up in anything except school and painting and even when she was up to her eyebrows in a project, she’d never forgotten plans with Bailey.

Bailey slowed to a stop, found herself in front of a coffee shop and went inside. She sat in a corner booth, far away from the laughter and teasing from the other students squeezed around a table for six. A horrible conclusion struck her hard and she covered her face — she was a terrible friend. But yet, thinking it, accepting it, churned up all this outrage deep inside her that kept trying to rebel against it. Bailey needed Gran and took out her cell, made the call, then settled back to wait for Gran to rescue her, wallowing in pity.

“Bailey.”

She looked up, saw Simon frowning down at her and hunched lower in the booth.

“You okay?”

She turned away. “Sure. Perfect.”

“You… ah… need a ride or something?”

At the other end of the shop, Bailey noticed Caitlyn trying to draw blood with her glare. “I’m good. You should get back to her before her face freezes that way.”

Simon took a quick look over his shoulder and shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.” He waited a second and then walked away.

Bailey refused to look at their table. She sat with her face turned to the window. Time floated around her but she was outside it. She registered the arrival and departures of various customers, smelled the French fries on trays going by, and sipped the coffee in front of her that she didn’t remember asking for. A hand reached across the table and squeezed hers.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” A soft voice asked.

Bailey looked up into her grandmother’s familiar face. There were lines there now, a little gray around her temples, but she always looked so beautiful and always spoke so softly — even when she was mad.

There was no annoyance reflected on her grandmother’s face — only concern.

Tears burned behind her eyes. “Oh, Gran! I… I really hurt Meg.” The story tumbled from her lips and the tears fell, her earlier stubborn willpower nothing but rubble now.

Gran listened, sipped her own coffee — where had that come from? — and made little sounds of commiseration. When Bailey was finally done spilling her guts, Gran asked one question.