She takes the stairs two at a time, leaving behind the girls with big hair and solid-colored cotton shirts and matching platforms and eyeshadow. They are making cookies together. What I really want right now is to be with you and Wes and a handful of Starbursts and Wes curling around our head on your bed and our kisses tasting of strawberry and orange, she thinks. But she is here. And he is there.
Normal people hang out with friends.
Normal people interact. I think I'm normal, although I may be wrong. But she is happier by herself than with anybody. Anybody besides him, that is. But he is not here.