The Start of Me and You by Emery Lord Read Free Book Online Page B

repeated, over and over, the same words in a rhythmic way that somehow calmed me: It will not always feel like this. I promise. It will get easier. You will not always feel this way, Paige. I promise. She never tried to rationalize my pain or fix it. But she planted this idea, that someday it might ease.
    “Okay. Okay.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. My skin felt ruddy, and I turned to examine the toll that crying had taken on my complexion. I stared at my face in the mirror, thinking of that picture of the four of us from the collage. Same green eyes, same light-brown hair at my shoulders, same everything. Other than a few inches of height and the hint of curves, I looked exactly the same as I did in eighth grade. The sameness suffocated me, like the walls were closing in around me. Inside, I’d changed so much—even in the past year. Yet here I stood, same old Paige. I needed to break free of her.
    “Will you cut my hair?”
    I glanced back at Tessa in the mirror as her mouth formed the word: “No.”
    “Just bangs.” Turning around, I gave her my best pleading look.
    “You want me to cut bangs into your hair?”
    “Yes.”
    “You realize that I have never cut anyone’s hair in my life?”
    “Yes.”
    “No.”
    I groaned. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
    “I am your best friend,” she told me, avoiding my gaze. She was still on her bed, picking at her nails. “Which is why I won’t let you make hair-related decisions when you’re this upset.”
    “I’m not upset.”
    “Okay,” she said sarcastically.
    “I need a change, Tess.” I whined.
    “Then change mascaras or something,” she said. “Your hair is fine.”
    “If you don’t do it, I’ll do it myself.” I reached over to her desk, plucking a pair of all-purpose scissors from the drawer.
    When she only stared at me, I took the front panel of my hair between my two fingers, sectioning it off.
    “God,” she muttered after a moment, climbing off the bed. “Fine. Give them here.”
    I stayed still, unwavering. But this one gesture—this simple, snipping motion—moved me forward all on its own. I stood, breath bated, ready to be changed in even the smallest way.

Chapter Five
    On our way to Morgan’s house, Tessa and I didn’t talk. The bangs tickled my forehead, and I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the car’s side mirror. This girl, with her new hair and the “skimpy” dress, could handle the next few hours. The radio played over us, and I sang along to myself.
    My friends’ music preferences diverged and overlapped like a four-part Venn diagram. Kayleigh liked pop and hip-hop, with some classic rock. Tessa also dabbled with classic rock but generally preferred low-key indie music. She enforced a zero-tolerance policy for schmaltz, which always made for bickering if Morgan was in charge of song selection. Morgan favored the kind of lite rock my mother listened to and, also like my mother, disapproved of Kayleigh’ship-hop. We had a house rule that stated you got to pick the music when everyone was at your house or in your car. There were two exceptions: on birthdays or during a life crisis, the other girls abdicated their DJ rights.
    House rule was easiest on me. I liked most of the songs my friends did. My only quirk was a shamefully enthusiastic love of pop ballads, which I tried to reign in.
    But that’s what Tessa played now, a girl-pop anthem that I had always liked. I knew she was quietly enforcing the Crisis Amendment, allowing me this one song as my family life shifted under my feet.
    “Hey,” I said to Tessa, after she pulled into Morgan’s driveway and honked. “I’m not going to tell them yet. About my parents.”
    Tessa nodded as the front door opened and Kayleigh emerged. Kayleigh is only three inches taller than I am, but with much better curves and a confident sway to her walk, even in heels.
    “Morgan!” Kayleigh yelled from the top of the driveway. “Come on .”
    Morgan ducked out the