I called Jamie when she finally got home from the hospital. She was surprised to hear from me. She said she couldn’t remember the accident at all. She knew that two off-duty cops had rescued her and her friend Lewis.
She said she had a bad hip, which made her limp. But everything else seemed okay. She was totally bummed that she had spent so much time in the hospital in rehab for her leg that she wouldn’t be able to graduate with her class. She had to do senior year over again.
We talked on the phone about seeing each other someday, even though we were in different cities. Of course I didn’t know then that my life was about to blow up, and that I’d have to come live with Jamie and her parents for the rest of senior year.
Last week, when I climbed the steps of her front porch, I set down my suitcases and my hamster cage, and I took a deep breath before ringing the bell.
I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
What would Jamie be like? I wondered. I knew she’d still be pretty, with those big, dark eyes and her creamy, pale skin and wavy, black hair.
But would she be glad to see me? Or would she still treat me as the poor cousin she was forced to hang out with?
I raised my finger to the big, brass doorbell—and the door swung open before I could ring it.
Jamie came rushing out and swept me up in a warm hug. She stepped back to look at me. Then hugged me again.
“You look so fabulous!” she gushed. “I—I can’t believe you’re here! It’s so awesome you’re going to be living here!”
She picked up my heaviest bag. “You’re tall now,” she said. “I was always taller than you, wasn’t I? I remember those awful yellow Reeboks you used to wear, without any laces, right? You thought that was cool or something, but it was so geeky.”
I laughed. “I didn’t think you’d remember me at all.”
She narrowed those dark eyes at me. “Of course, I do. I remember everything. I was bossy then, totally mean to you. I guess it was because you were so quiet and sad-looking and . . . shy.”
“I’m not shy anymore,” I said, grinning.
It’s true. No one would ever call me shy. For one thing, I’m really into guys. And I know how to get their attention.
I may not be as pretty and dramatic-looking as Jamie. But guys think I’m hot.
I like to go out and party and get trashed and get crazy.
It helps me forget how sick my life is.
Wow. When Jamie greeted me like that—like a long-lost friend—it meant so much to me. I thought I’d burst out crying. I really did.
I need Jamie to be my friend. My life has sucked for so long. I need this new start. New friends. New everything.
I picked up the hamster cage and peered inside. Hammy sat in a corner, burrowed down in the wood shavings, staring out at me with those shiny, black eyes.
I knew he was confused, moving to a new home. Well . . . I was confused too. Confused and hurt and angry.
I picked up my other suitcase and waited for Jamie to lead the way. She wore an oversize, white T-shirt pulled down over black yoga pants. Her hair fell in loose strands around her face, tied in a single ponytail.
Her skin was paler than I remembered. When she smiled at me, I could see tiny, blue veins pulsing in her temples.
She limped badly as she led the way to the front stairs. I realized she was still not fully recovered from her accident.
I wanted to ask her a million questions about it. What were she and Lewis doing at the wreck of the Fear Mansion? How could they ever fall into such a deep hole? Why were they there so late at night?
The questions could wait. Maybe Jamie didn’t even remember the answers.
I followed her up the front stairway. “Dana, you have the whole attic to yourself,” she said. “It’s very cozy. I think you’ll like it. Is that a hamster in there? Better keep him away from my mom. She’s allergic to all kinds of animals. What’s his name?”
“Hammy,” I said. “Clever, huh?”
She laughed. “How did you ever come up with that?”
We were both breathless by the time we dropped the suitcases to the floor in my new attic room. I set the hamster cage down on a table in front of the window. Gazing out, I could see the long, front lawn with its two flower beds, empty now since it was November. Two tall, old trees stood on both sides of the driveway, mostly bare except for a few clumps of dead, brown leaves.
Jamie lifted one of the suitcases onto the narrow bed against the wall. “Sorry about your mom,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry,” I muttered. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
She wasn’t expecting me to be so bitter. I could see the shock on her face.
“Such a bad year for our family,” she said softly. “First, cousin Cindy died, then your mom. How is your dad doing? Your mom died so suddenly. He must still be in shock.”