Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content (26 page)

After that, Jordan did most of the talking for both of us, especially during that first year. Oh, I would talk to her, but only in this quiet mousy voice. Then she would speak to the teacher or a classmate or whoever until my wants and needs were perfectly clear. It’s like I was the hand puppet and she was the puppeteer. Still, her outgoing personality made life much easier for me.

Fortunately, I did get better at speaking, over time. But I’ve never been what you might call an assertive or even confident person. And I would never in a million years want to speak in public on purpose. Jordan, on the other hand, loved her speech class last year and even joined the debate team, and she was only a freshman! But I don’t get it. I mean why would anyone willingly put themselves into a position where they have to speak in front of an audience
and
argue about something? How whacked out is that?

Still, I admit that I admired her for it. I thought she was the bravest and coolest person I knew. And throughout our freshman year in high school, just last year, I was totally thankful that I had
Jordan Ferguson to share a locker, walk down the halls, eat lunch, and just basically hang with. She was like my security blanket. Well, that and a lot more.

I suppose that’s why losing her like this is so freaking crappy. Not that I’ll ever admit
that
. Not to her or anyone else in this moronic school. As it is, my life already sucks. I don’t need anyone’s stupid pity to add to my stinking pile of misery. Besides, I do a pretty good job of feeling sorry for myself.

“What’s up with you and Jordan?” my teenybopper sister asked the other day. “How come she never comes ’round here anymore?”

Naturally, Bree
would
miss Jordan. She thinks Jordan’s the coolest thing next to (gag me) Britney Spears. Just the same, I rolled my eyes at her and said, “Probably because you’re such a total stink bomb. Poor Jordan just couldn’t take your smell anymore.”

Of course, this led to a rip-snorting argument about hygiene and fashion and a bunch of other things Bree and I don’t quite agree on. Turned out to be a good distraction—Bree hasn’t mentioned Jordan’s absence since. Still, I’m sure she privately wonders. You’d think my mom might wonder too, but as usual she’s so into her own world that she is totally clueless about mine. So what’s new?

But I guess I sort of wish my mom would ask me about it. Now tell me that’s not weird, since I usually don’t want to talk (I mean
talk)
to my mom about anything besides lunch money or whose turn it is to clean the kitchen. I guess that just shows how completely desperate I am.

I sort of feel like I’m drowning here, and I just keep wishing that someone—anyone—would toss me a life preserver, or even a rope . . . maybe to hang myself with. Because I really need someone to talk to. The pathetic thing is, the only person I’ve ever poured my heart out to before, the only one who’s ever listened or attempted to
give me answers, the only one who knew how to make me feel better, just doesn’t give a rip.

As furious as I am with Jordan, and as much as I can’t stand the very sight of her, I still miss her friendship more than I imagined possible, and I think I’d do almost anything to get her back. As lame as it sounds, even to me, there’s a great big gaping hole in my life right now. And I feel more alone than ever.

Not to mention scared.