The Girl I Was Before by Ginger Scott Read Free Book Online

to find his rhythm again, remember his point. “Party, tonight at Smokey’s. Sigmas are buying, and I know how much you like their fruity drinks.”
    “I do,” I smile, remembering the first time Carson took me to the cowboy bar at the edge of town. It’s this huge indoor-outdoor barn-looking thing, and there’s an enormous dance floor. I was glued to it for three hours, my body drenched with sweat by the time Carson took me home. He spent that entire night watching me, and I loved his attention. We’d only been seeing each other for a few days at that point, and everything was new and sexy. Maybe a trip to Smokey’s was all I needed.
    “Cool, so I’ll pick you up at the house. Be ready at nine,” he says, before holding the phone away from his mouth and screaming more obscenities at whoever was still touching his bike. “I gotta go.”
    He hangs up without another word, and I’m left right back where I started—alone in the library, brushed off by my boyfriend who makes me feel embarrassed sometimes, and regretful others. I might be pathetic.
    My phone buzzes again; this time, with a text from Ashley.
    You were right. They looked at my phone and Facebook page, but only for a few seconds. I think Chandra’s looking for you. Where’d you go?
    I begin typing, but then delete quickly, turning my phone off, and zipping it away in the bottom of my purse. There’s no sense in putting this off any longer; I’m going to have to confront Chandra eventually. For a while, I thought I might lie. But she’d see right through that. I don’t want her thinking I’m afraid. I’m not. I feel sick about everything I know I’ll have to give up, but losing Chandra isn’t something I’ll regret. I’d regret lying more.
    My pace back to the house is nearly as fast as it was when I ran away. As a kid, I used to hate getting shots or pulling off Band-Aids. My mom would make me count backward from ten, and after I got to seven, she’d always rip the bandage away or tell the nurse to proceed with the needle. My pain was always over quickly that way. I love my mom for giving me the false expectation that something painful would take longer than it really did. I’m thinking of this now—my steps coming quicker. By the time I count down to zero in my head, I’m at the front door of the Delta House, my hand rested on the ornate iron handle, and the only sound I hear is the blood rushing over my eardrums as my heart rate climbs.
    When I step inside, Chandra is sitting right where I left her—waiting for me. She’s alone, not because she wants to give me privacy; this has nothing to do with her respect for me. This is about her, and wanting to make sure I don’t spread the poison. I won’t. It will spread on its own; it’s just a matter of time.
    “Have second thoughts about running away, Paige?” she asks, her legs folded up in front of her, a pillow on her lap, her hands resting neatly on top. She’s anxious. I’ve learned some of her tells over the few months we’ve been friends, and when she’s sure of herself, she stands, lets her arms and hands be free—so she can make gestures and move with her speech. She’s compact right now, hiding under the chenille butterfly pillow. No matter what happens, I’ve won this round, because I intend on standing.
    “I was gone for thirty minutes. I’d hardly call that running away,” I say, turning my back to her and taking my time to pull my bag from my arms, then removing the sweatshirt from over my head. I want her to think I’m making her wait, that I’m not nervous, but really…I’m just buying myself time until I can think of exactly what I’m going to say. I think it depends on what she asks.
    “You’ll need to be out by tonight,” she says, speaking the second I’m done pulling the cloth over my head, trying to catch me off guard. And she has.
    That is not what I thought she would lead with. Seems we’re not going to go through the pretense of checking my