Revived

“By the way, I know you used my phone again. Just because you’re too lazy to charge yours doesn’t mean you can steal mine whenever you please. Stop taking my stuff.”

Matt rolls his eyes at her and then looks at me with an expression that straddles the line between a

“Later,” he says to no one in particular.

“Bye,” I say quietly, wishing I could make him stay.

Audrey and I decide to go to a just-opened mall that she says is like shopping heaven. We okay it with her mom and with Mason, then take off in her sunshiny yellow car. While we shop, I balance my overwhelming desire to ask about Matt, Matt, and more Matt with wanting to get to know Audrey better. I don’t want Audrey to think I’m only interested in her brother, so I decide as we walk through the temperature-controlled atrium that I’m restricted to asking only three questions about Matt.

As we meander down the aisles of Von Maur, GAP, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Hot Topic, Audrey and I chat easily about anything and everything else. After only thirty minutes, I know that she got her hair colored at the salon on the first level, loves glass elevators, wants to go to Paris someday but takes Spanish at school, prefers pretzel bites to sticks or full soft pretzels, and is a closet history nerd.

“I could have rocked the Victorian era,” Audrey says as she fingers a ruffled, Victorian-inspired shirt at Anthropologie.

“I think you’re right,” I say. “But corsets? No thanks.”

“I bet they weren’t so bad after you got used to them.”

I hook Audrey a look like she’s insane and move to the other side of the rack.

“I love this song.” I sing quietly as I flip through pants I can’t afford; I used all of my allowance on stuff for my bedroom.

“Ick,” Audrey says. “I totally don’t get this band. You and Matt.”

I suck in my breath, hoping she’ll say more about her brother. She doesn’t, so I decide to use question number one.

“What show did he go see last night?” I ask casually.

“Crunch Toast.”

“Love them, too.”

“Actually, I agree with that one. They’re awesome. One time…”

Audrey tells her story and I try to listen but instead I zone out, pulled away by thoughts of Matt’s hair. Of his ta

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

Then I wonder if he’s mad about the iPhone.

Then I wonder whether he’s wondering about me.

“Hello?” Audrey says. “Are you even listening to me?”

I blink, confused.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.

“Do… you… want… coffee?” she asks, enunciating every word. She looks really tired all of a sudden.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I say, putting the shirt I didn’t realize I was holding back on the rack.

We take the escalator to the coffee shop on the second floor. Audrey orders a nonfat caramel latte and it sounds delicious so I get the same. When we’re settled at a table by the window, Audrey checks her phone.

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Five,” I say, sipping my drink.

“Okay, we’re doing all right, then.”

Audrey’s still looking down at her phone. I take the opportunity to bring up Matt.

“Why did Matt take your phone?” I ask. She rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Because he’s an idiot.”

I raise my eyebrows, and she continues. “He accidentally synced all of his music onto my phone instead of his, and it took forever, and he’s too lazy to go back and do it again on his own. So if I’m around, he’s always taking my phone. It’s so a

“I saw him bringing it back today. I think he thinks I ratted him out.”

“I knew anyway,” Audrey says. “He never puts it back in the right place.”

“I think he’s mad at me.”

“Doubt it.”

“He seemed like it,” I say.

Audrey sips her latte. “You mean when he said, ‘Thanks a lot’?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, he was just messing around. At least I think he was. Sometimes, lately, I can’t tell.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, realizing my question probably counts as number three.

“Oh, nothing,” Audrey says, disappointing me with her answer. “He’s just got some stuff on his mind.”

Audrey is quiet then, clearly done talking about her brother. Kicking myself for using all my questions about Matt, I look out the window to the mall patrons cruising by with strollers and shopping bags. Movement near a planter catches my eye: A man in a blue button-down and jeans is standing there, waiting for someone. The fu

Unexpectedly, my cell rings. It’s Mason.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes, why?” I ask back.

“No reason. Do you have your card?”

“Yes,” I say; he’s asking about the debit card that’s linked to my allowance account.

“That’s good,” Mason says. “Have fun.”

Click.

nine

For exactly five days, my life is so normal that I almost forget I might be faking it. On Monday, Matt waves at me at the begi

Thursday night, she texts:

Audrey: I love your post about the anatomy of mall crowds.

Daisy: Thanks!

Audrey: Sure. And your friend Fabulous is hilarious.

Daisy: That’s Megan. You’d love her.

My life starts to feel like a prime-time sitcom.

Then, on Friday, the cracks start to show.

The morning is fine, but things begin to unravel at lunch. Audrey and I go to the taco place down the street from school for the Friday special: two hard-shell tacos, chips and salsa, and a drink. Right after we finish eating, Audrey runs to the bathroom and throws up (I hear it because we’re at a table close to the restrooms). But when she comes out, she lies about it.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” I ask when she sits down. Her brown eyes are watery and her face is so pale she’s practically translucent.

“Totally fine,” she says, taking a sip of her soda. “I thought I was going to pee my pants.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because I thought I heard you—”

“Throw up?” she interrupts. Then she leans closer and whispers, “There was another girl in there hurling her brains out. Maybe she’s bulimic or something.”

I glance at the door, wanting to believe my new friend, hoping some super-ski