Page 28 of Death is My BFF
“Never grow up, my beautiful niece. Life can make you bitter.” On that cheerful note, she slapped her hands on her legs and brightened.
“Anyhoo! What else have you been up to?”
“I drank two cases of root beer?”
“Wow, so eventful.” She scrutinized my cocoon of blankets and the undeniable dark circles under my eyes as if she knew there had to be more gossip. “Now that you’ve reached the big one-eight, how’s thatwoe is meteen angst?”
“Let’s see.” I settled back into the couch. “I have one friend, I repel the opposite sex like water repels a cat, and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I plan on camping on this couch, on this exact cushion, until my butt forever imprints this sofa.”
“Dang. That bad, huh? Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
Glancing up atBuffyon the TV, Aunt Sarah smiled to herself and reached into her purple tote. “Then it’s a good thing I brought something to cheer you up.”
I looked down at the book in her hand and gasped. She sometimes brought me a new book and this one was too fitting. “Encyclopedia ofVampires! No way!” I smiled uncontrollably, cracking open the bad boy. “This is awesome. You know me way too well.”
“This is a good one,” Aunt Sarah said, pointing to Angel on the TV. We binged a few classic episodes together—shouting and throwing popcorn at the TV at the exact right moments. Family. Sometimes they justgetyou.
After Aunt Sarah left to meet a friend for dinner, I leafed through the vampire book and read a few passages about the mythical origin of vampires, when the paranormal aspect of it all suddenly reminded me of a certain cloaked hallucination.
Nope. I decided to save the read for later.
As the next episode ofBuffyqueued, I messaged my parents to ask them how their trip was going.
Mom sent me a picture of Dad’s sunburn and then a picture of a lobster. She wrote how excited she was about a beach concert later. Shortly after, Dad sent me a picture of Mom asleep in a beach chair with her mouth wide open. Jokingly, he wrote he’d rather shoot himself in the leg than go to the beach concert. I burst out laughing and sent them a picture of my pale arm and Buffy on the TV screen.
The doorbell rang a few times, interrupting my final text.
When I peered through the peephole, wavy balayage hair and hazel eyes greeted me.
“Peace offering?” Marcy asked, presenting a plate of slutty brownies. Her eyes were sunken in and her skin was washed out like she hadn’t slept well in days. “They’re extra slutty.”
Despite our argument on my birthday and the fact that I’d ignored her calls, I couldn’t help but feel so happy to see her. Before
I could let her in, words came tumbling out of her mouth. “I tried to stop by all weekend. My grandparents came to visit, and then Dad wouldn’t let me leave the house. I’m sorry for everything I said Friday. I didn’t mean a single word of it. I’m so, so, so—”
“Girl, get in here.” I ushered her inside and pulled her into the kitchen to set the brownies down. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have criticized you, I just get worried and have no filter.”
“I know, but the no filter is why I love you. Dude, Iruinedyour birthday.”
“Dude, no you didn’t,” I said. “I celebrated it twice, remember?”
If anything, a certain hooded figure had ruined it.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Marcy’s voice broke off as her eyes flooded with tears, and then it all came tumbling out again.
“When my mom died, I turned to Thomas for help, instead of you. I put him in that gaping hole in my heart because I thought I needed the distraction. You’re the most reliable person in my life, Faith. You have the kindest heart of anybody I know, and I was angry with you Friday because you were right about everything.”
The break in her voice brought tears to my own eyes. It broke my heart when she cried, but this was the breakthrough I’d been waiting for—Marcy couldn’t move on until she dealt with her emotions.
“If I promise to be better and not some self-absorbed, ex-boyfriend-crazed lunatic, will you be my best friend again?” Marcy mumbled into my shirt.
“You’re not a lunatic.” This made us both laugh and I held her at arm’s length by the shoulders. “I’ll never stop being your friend.
Thomas is a dick. You’ll find someone who deserves you.”
“Thanks, Faith.” Marcy glanced down at my outfit and grimaced, the touching moment fleeing. “Hold on. What are youwearing? Is that my blouse? And—oh my fashion catastrophe—tell me those are not hand-me-down slacks?”