Sitting at my desk, I remember the night. The good and bad parts. The touching and screaming and row after row of straight lines. I thought I would feel like myself again with the sun in the sky, but instead my mind is more confused than ever. It's like I've fallen off a tight rope and now that I'm bouncing on the trampoline, I don't know if I want to get back up.
On the walk home last night, I imagined a thousand things going wrong. Lil choking on her own vomit. Her mom driving down to the police station and telling them I was responsible. Lil and her mom leaving in the middle of the night and me never seeing Lil again. That thought made me sad, so I started singing the entire score of Wicked to myself.
I open my computer and e-mail Lil.
To:
[email protected] From:
[email protected] R u okay? I couldn't sleep last night. I'm worried.
As I wait, hoping Lil will respond and tell me she's not dead or in jail and that her mom isn't going to bang down my door and scream that I'm a liar to my parents, I stare at the U of M application collecting dust on my desk.
