We Will Be Together For Never

[22] Texting Sasha

 That afternoon, for once, I was the one not focusing while Jordan attempted to get me to work on our project. Finally, he threw down his pencil and sighed. "Okay, what's going on with you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "What?" I had been thinking of possible ways to handle the terrifying situation I had trapped myself in and had no solutions so far.

"I just asked you which students you think we should interview. Three times in a row."

"Oh. Right. Um..." I shrugged, saying the first name that popped into my head. "Sapphire." Looking relieved that he had gotten me to say anything at all, Jordan wrote it down.

"What about her girlfriend?" he asked. "Or their other friends? Do you know them?"

I nodded slowly, forcing myself to focus. "I sit with them at lunch, so yeah. I take American Lit with Sapphire and Sasha. I have the class before this with Bea and the class after with Kasey. And I could talk to the boys at lunch."

"That would be perfect," Jordan said, bobbing his head up and down and writing down "& friends" next to Sasha. I quickly copied down everything on his paper.

"Do you know anyone we could interview?" I asked casually and then winced. I had been told that Jordan didn't have any friends. Of course he wouldn't have anyone who jumped to mind.

Sure enough, he slowly shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"It's fine!" I replied, too quickly, too brightly. "Should we use our old interview questions for Sasha and her friends, or...?"

For the rest of the allotted class hour, we worked on new interview questions for the group of friends. I hoped that they would all be okay with getting interviewed. My only roadblock would be Kasey...

It was a nice break from the pressure of everything that was suddenly crashing down upon me.

In art, Miss Kim had an announcement for us before we began work on our artwork. "Tomorrow is the last day!" she called out. "The last day to work on your passion projects. Good luck, and get to work!" With that, the room exploded with noise and movement.

I was content with that deadline. I knew I could finish up my painting by tomorrow and while it wasn't my best, I knew it would get a good grade without even being prideful.

That hour passed in a blur and soon, I was climbing into Roger's car and disinterestedly answering his questions about how the day had gone.

That afternoon, I decided to tackle one of the items on my growing list of problems, both personal and academic. The problem I hoped to solve now was that I needed a dress if I was going to go to the Saturday dance.

Referencing the slip of paper Sasha had given me, I texted her from the safety of my bedroom: "Hey."

Within seconds, she had replied. "Whos this??"

I winced. Come on, Tamara. Use your brain. "Sorry. Tamara."

"Oh okay :)"

I watched the three dots indicating that she was typing with nervous anticipation. It had been a long time since I had had a text conversation longer than a few lines to ask Roger to grab me more pencils or another sketchbook.

"Would it still be okay if I borrowed a dress from you for Saturday?" I texted nervously.

"Of course!! Ooh I'm so excited!!"

I grinned, rolling my eyes. Oh, Sasha.

"Wanna come over tonite?"

I paused for a moment. Then, I called, "Roger? Can you drive me to go pick up a dress for Saturday?"

"From where?" Roger shouted back unconcernedly.

"A friend."

"Sure. When?"

"I don't know yet."

I texted Sasha, "Sure, tonight works."

"Cool. How bout six?"

"Could we do five?" Roger and I usually ate dinner around six.

"Yeah," Sasha texted back after a couple of seconds.

"Great. See u then." I turned off my phone and threw it onto my bed. Then I curled into myself in the floor, somewhat relishing the discomfort in my side from the thin carpet and hard boards underneath. I just needed some peace and quiet for a little bit.

The world around me was quickly becoming far too overwhelming for me to handle.

*

Sasha had texted me the address to her house seconds after my final text. It was a small suburban place that looked like it was straight out of the guide to living a picture-perfect life. It even had a white picket fence, which made me quietly snort when I saw it.

I rang the doorbell once, but it was one of those houses that swallows the resulting sound, so I wasn't sure whether or not Sasha within she had heard me. I waited awkwardly for about thirty seconds, then prepared myself to ring the bell once more when the door swung open to reveal Sasha, grinning widely.

"Hey!" she said. "Come on in." She glanced over my shoulder and saw Roger in his car as I entered her house. "Is that your dad?"

"No," I replied instinctively, then flinched. "Well, adopted, so technically."

"Oh." Sasha gave me a slightly strange look, and I knew how that had seemed - like I was trying to get more attention than was necessary. After all, most adopted kids just said their adopted parents were their parents.

I wasn't cut out to lie on this scale, I thought miserably.

"Well, come on upstairs," Sasha said, gesturing to a staircase to the immediate right of the door. "Let me show you your dress." She grinned and beckoned after her.

Apprehension mounting, I climbed the stairs after her.