Breathe, Annie, Breathe - Page 26/87

“What?” I shout. “Why aren’t you at the hospital? Why are you here?”

Matt grins. “It’s her first baby and considering my mom was in labor with all of us for, like, days, I don’t think the baby will be here anytime soon.”

“So will this be your first niece or nephew?”

“Yeah. It’s a boy,” he says proudly.

I can’t help but smile at his giddiness. “Is your brother at the hospital with her?”

He gives me a brief look, but then he’s all business again. “The whole family’s there. I’ll head over as soon as we’re finished.” He points at my face. “Don’t think you can get out of training.”

“Darn.”

Matt leads me through a series of lunges and squats and other horrible exercises that make my legs feel like they’ve been lit on fire.

“You’re doing really well, Annie,” Matt says when I’m done with a load of jumping jacks. “You think you’ll be able to run the full ten miles on Saturday?”

I lean over and rest my hands on my knees, panting. “I’m gonna try…but, Matt?”

“Mm-hmm?”

Every week the runs get harder and harder. I sleep more and more. More aches and pains pop up every day. I should go ahead and buy a lifetime supply of ibuprofen at this rate.

Do I have a limit?

“I’m scared that I won’t be able to do it all, you know? The last time I ran ten miles, I got really sick.”

Matt pats my back. “If you weren’t scared, then I’d be worried.”

•••

“Now, who wants to buy the bath mat?”

I groan. It seems bass ackwards that I haven’t even picked out which classes I’m taking yet, but I have to decide if I’ll supply a crock-pot or an ironing board.

I’ve been sitting at the Roadhouse for over an hour discussing our college suite with Vanessa, Kelsey, and her cousin, Iggy, a self-proclaimed hipster. She says that anyone who has a bike with more than one gear and claims to be a hipster isn’t really a hipster.

Who knew?

When I sat down at their booth earlier, Kelsey’s mouth fell open and she glared at Vanessa. “Annie’s your roommate?”

“You didn’t tell her?” I blurted at Vanessa.

Vanessa looked back and forth between us. “I told you my roommate was coming to meet us, didn’t I?”

“You could’ve told me,” Kelsey replied, furrowing her eyebrows. “I have a say who lives in our suite.”

“I thought this could be good for all of us,” Vanessa said, biting her lip.

“How could living with her be good for me?” Kelsey hissed.

My face burned red. “Is this because I live in a trailer?”

Kelsey gave me her what-the-F look. “Of course it’s not. It’s because we’re not friends anymore, Annie.”

We would be if you hadn’t ditched me for Vanessa and spread that rumor I dated Kyle even after you declared your love for him.

“Fine, whatever,” I said and got up to leave. Taking my chances with the random roommate lottery had to be better than this.

“I don’t want to live with a stranger, Kels,” Vanessa whined. “And my brother doesn’t want me to either. He’d probably make me keep on living with our papa.”

Kelsey looked over at Iggy, who was busy making a house out of sugar packets. “Fine,” Kelsey said, and I slowly sat back down, wishing she’d never moved out of Oakdale. If she hadn’t, I never would’ve grown self-conscious and started turning down her invitations to spend the night. I wouldn’t have started pulling away from my friend. How would my life be different now if she’d never moved?

An hour later, it’s like we’re participating in Middle East peace talks.

“I’m not bringing the bath mat,” Iggy argues. “I already said I’d bring the shower curtain. I have one with skulls on it.”

Kelsey, Vanessa, and I all pause to look at each other.

“I’ll get the bath mat,” Vanessa says.

“And I’ll get another shower curtain,” I say.

“Deal,” Kelsey says.

“Hey!” Iggy blurts. “I want my skulls!”

Kelsey makes a green checkmark on her color-coded chart that details all the stuff we need to buy for college. Kelsey is bringing everything with an orange checkmark next to it, which so far includes the coffee maker, a broom, and cleaning supplies. Vanessa is green and Iggy is blue. My color is purple. An assortment of Kelsey’s colored Sharpies is fanned across the table in a straight line.