Quiet

Chapter 18 - Cynthia's Confession

Joel drops me off at home, and my mother leaves to pick up Sophia from school. After Mr. Lombardi returns from work, dinner's over, and I'm in my room taking a break from homework when the doorbell rings. Since packages get delivered until about eight and someone downstairs can get it, I don't pause my video of a white girl in England pulling a prank on her Korean boyfriend.

"I'm so happy to see you," my mother says. She doesn't ever yell excitedly like that, not even for relatives. I pause the video to listen. "She's in her room. Go on up."

No one would come this late to visit Sophia. And my mother wouldn't greet a spontaneous visit from Joel like that. Or send him to my room.

I stand and face my bedroom door, confused and ready for anyone. A moment later, Sophia and Cynthia talk nearby, close to the top of the stairs. No wonder my mother yelled. Cynthia became a superstar when my mother heard she doesn't like my father.

I stare at the moody band poster on my closed bedroom door, wishing I knew Cynthia's game. Out in the hall, she lets Sophia go on about something. Maybe she found out about Joel and came here to accuse him of sleeping with desperate runaways. He's a teenager himself, and lots of girls want to sleep with him. He doesn't have to pay for it. Lots will for free, including I guess me.

Finally, I hear a knock on my door. "Come in," I say, attempting to roll nonchalance and proof I'm a  bon vivant together into a neutral, I've-been-fine-without-you voice.

Cynthia closes the door behind her and stands with her feet hip-distance apart, like she's ready for a showdown with magic spells. She's still in her school uniform, which is a lot like mine except the shade of green is lighter. "Hi," she says, relaxing her stance. Unlike the last time I saw her, the skirt covers most of her thighs. "Up here." She frames her face with her hands and smiles.

She's making jokes, so I do my part. "Sorry, have your thighs changed?"

She pulls down on her skirt and grimaces like I'm rude - pretends to grimace. "Let's talk."

"Okay." I offer her the choice: bed or chair. It's not quite old times, but it could be - maybe. She heads to the bed, changes course, and plows into me for a hug. "Sorry I ghosted your friend," I say. "He's nice..."

"I hope you two can hang out without being weird about it," she says, holding my hands.

"I hope you and I can."

She jumps backward and lands on my bed. "I can." She pounds her legs on my bed like they're drumsticks.

Good, we're back. I pull the chair from my desk and turn it toward the bed. I don't think my mother will actively listen, but I point at the door. She'll accidentally listen if we let her. "I'll try not to be weird, but I'm an awkward girl," I say.

"No, you're not." Cynthia's always matter-of-fact. "You're like a CEO sometimes: direct and practical."

"I am?" I sit straighter.

Cynthia laughs. Her long, dirty blond hair falls in her way. She pushes it behind her ears and shoulders. I never forgot her blue-green eyes, but they're unusual and striking, and I forgot that. She speaks quietly. "I was nervous when I did that in front of you and your dad."

"I bet." I pull the chair even closer to her, so we're in a soundproof bubble. She may not be here to apologize, but I don't think I need one. She's my impulsive, passionate, crazy friend, and I respect that.

She sits up on the edge of my bed like she has something to tell the principal. And that's me. "Okay...," she says, taking a deep breath. "I saw your father in Hiroo about an hour ago. He came looking for me."