Page 65 of The Design of Goodbye
She hugged me, and I watched her leave. I put my coat on, fumbling with the buttons, since my injured finger still hurt, and tried to be positive. Come tomorrow, everything would be back to normal. No more avoiding my friends, no more eating lunch in my car. No more—
“Tell me you didn’t.”
Taylor was standing next to me. I was too embarrassed to look at her, so I zipped my coat, stalling.
“Oh, Madison,” she breathed, taking my silence as confirmation, “why’d you forgive her?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” I slammed my locker shut. “I couldn’t end our friendship that easily.”
“You can.” She stumbled into me as a boy sprinted down the hall. “You canalwaysend something that’s not good for you.”
If only I could admit I stayed friends with Jules because I was trapped by the hold my mom had on me. And plus, during the last few days, the loneliness had almost been worse than the unrelenting sadness.
Almost.
I wondered if Taylor considered me a friend or just a coworker she dealt with four shifts a week and sometimes talked with at school.
For a moment, I let myself dream of ending my toxic friendship with Jules and hanging out with Taylor—and Liam—instead. How different would it feel to be surrounded by friends so unlike what I was used to but so much better for me?
“I know,” I finally said as we started walking down the hall. “Most days, I don’t know what I’m doing. There are too many choices, and I’m constantly terrified I’m making the wrong one.”
“I get it. High school’s freaking hard.”
“I thought senior year was supposed to be easy,” I said, “but so far, this has been the hardest year yet.”
Taylor pushed the school’s front doors open, and we were momentarily silenced by a gust of frigid air mixed with snow. “My mom calls it growing up.”
“It scares me,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself. “Is this what growing up is? All these choices, with their possible repercussions? I worry I’ll never figure it out.”
“You will.”
She said all this so confidently, like she believed in me. I didn’t understand how she could believe in me so easily. How Liam could. Why was it so easy for them, but I couldn’t seem to believe in myself?
* * *
That night, I placed four sketches on my comforter.
I had acollection.
I held Thimble as I danced around my room. At first, I fumbled, out of practice. I used to dance all the time but hadn’t in months. But, tonight, the relief and happiness coursing through me were overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but revel in them.
I had aplan.
I tripped on my chair and fell onto my bed. Thimble jumped off me, betrayed. I’d let him soak in my bathroom sink later as an apology.
I rolled onto my stomach and smiled at the four sketches. They were perfect. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my mom’s face when she saw what I’d done. She was going to be so proud of me.
For the first time in four months, my dream felt possible. And I wasthis muchcloser to getting my mom back.
chapter twenty-four
Liam had to work an early shift at Gary’s, so we ended tutoring before dinner. After he left, I drove to numerous fabric stores, where I purchased everything I neededfor my first Harbor Fashion Show piece,Starlight.Choosing the first piece to make had been easy because it’d been my mom’s favorite idea she’d ever sketched. I always wondered why she’d never made it into a tangible piece; I’d always been too scared to ask.
Starlightwas a two-piece set—imagine 1860s Victorian era but modern. The bell-shaped skirt was a dark navy velvet with a deep purple lace overskirt and caged crinoline. The skirt was short, though, and instead of skimming the floor, it stopped a few inches above the knees. My favorite part of the skirt was the gold stars, which cascaded down the lace overskirt, as if they were shooting across the night sky. The fitted, lightly boned bodice was the same dark navy velvet as the skirt, had a high neckline, and was adorned with thin gold rope. The same stars were attached to the bodice to create the effect of off-the-shoulder sleeves.
I was desperate for it to be perfect. I wanted it to lookexactlylike my mom’s sketch, but the overskirt wasn’t cooperating. Every time I tried to sew a star on the lace, the fabric kept bunching.
I didn’t have enough talent for this. I couldn’t do this by myself; I needed my mom.
