Over the Edge

Ch.22-Tug-of-war

"My name is Amanda Fuller," she said, raising her arm and brandishing a pamphlet of some sort. "I work with our counselor and intern at the local hospital. I thought you might want to take a look at this, maybe come in for a few sessions."

Emma said nothing, which was uncharacteristic. She stood and she seethed. I could sense the hot anger rolling off of her, like steam. It was like our roles had reversed as I grabbed the flier. "Thanks," I muttered. The girl swallowed hard, eyes widening as she took me in. After a little squeak and a nod she scurried away, tripping over her feet as she did so. I smirked. It was kind of funny, the effect I had on people.

"That bitch."

I cocked an eyebrow down at Emma, who was glaring down the hall like she wished it would instantly catch flames and burn the whole foundation to the ground. I couldn't say I didn't find enjoyment in that thought. "Who?"

"You know who." She snatched the pamphlet from my hands and a scowl darkened her features. "How to know if your teen is suicidal. This is a fucking joke!" she spat, ferociously tearing the thin paper in pieces and stuffing it in a nearby trashcan. I watched with slight fear and slight amusement. Her face was blotchy and red and while it was an improvement from the zombie addict of before, it wasn't one hundred percent. It wasn't Emma. I wasn't sure if I had ever known the real Emma, and I found myself wondering if I ever would.

"Well, you couldn't expect anything serious from her. She looked like Harry Potter's sister," I tried a shot at humor. It was received with a slight twitch of her lip.

"I knew this would happen," she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. "Why am I so stupid?"

I shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I've asked you that question multiple times and I've yet to receive an answer."

She glowered at me. "You know, you're really not helping. I thought we were friends now."

"Friend is a unique term when associated with myself. I don't use that word often."

She gasped, faking shock. "What? And here I thought people were falling at your feet with your charming personality."

I rolled my eyes. Okay, so the girl could be funny when she wanted to. At least that wasn't lost in the toxic pit of pills. I couldn't believe I would admit this to myself but she wasn't even that bad to hang around. "Vittorio wants to see you after school if you're up for it," I mentioned. "He and Michaela were worried sick."

She bit down on her lip, toying with her fingers. "I forgot about them. Shit." She stared up at me with her wide grey eyes, endless depths of grey akin to a cloud on a stormy day. "That makes me a horrible person, doesn't it?"

I grunted, a bit lost as I looked into her eyes. The emotion swirling there . . . I still hadn't forgotten Miss Delilah's proposal. I had packed it away in the back of my mind, the box sealed tight, but it was ready to be opened at any moment. And staring at Emma I was prepared to.

She was the perfect picture.

Now I just had to convince her of that and get her still long enough to try it out.

"If they come and haul me away, you have to promise to track me down," she whispered as we continued our way down the hall, her hands clinging to my arm. "Promise?"

"Promise," I mumbled boringly.

She huffed. "That was so freaking nonchalant I can't even-how about you say it with some meaning?"

Some people would say I was doing a shit job on the English project where my partner was concerned. And they would be right. I hadn't done a lick of work. But somehow in the months we'd known each other I had picked up on a couple things. Like, she got seriously weird when her anxiety levels were bursting through the roof.