Wait For You

Whatever It Takes

I never went to Amelia’s funeral.

     It had been almost three weeks and some of her friends still hated me for it. They would come up to me at school and say things like, “If you really were her best friend, the least you could have done was show up.” No one would understand, though, how it felt to be there with her right before it happened. No one would understand what it felt like to watch her disappear into thin air. No one would understand, because I would never tell them. They would send me away to a mental institution if I’d told them I’d talked to my dead best friend, if I told them I could intrude their thoughts in a matter of seconds. It would be like the Salem Witch Trials—they’d find a reason for me to be sent away or killed.

     My mother felt that it would be best if I left town, no matter the cost. She didn’t know of my peculiar ability, though. She was merely looking out for her daughter’s wellbeing. She was the school counselor; she wasn’t oblivious to my pain. She saw instances like mine everyday: grief. I often heard her talking to my dad late at night, finally having decided to just uproot the family and move away.

    “You can’t leave because of me,” I’d said flatly. We were sitting in the dining room eating breakfast before it was time for work and school. My father was hunched over his plate of scrambled eggs, reading the newspaper that lay on the table next to him. Mom was washing dishes, her back stiffening at my words. Ever since Amelia left, I lost every ability of masking my pain. Amelia was the only person who knew my secret, knew what I could do. I couldn’t let my family suffer with me too, I’d realized.

   Baeleigh—

  Get out of my head, I hissed at him. I pinched my nose and exhaled loudly, shutting him out. He never said anything anymore, but I knew he was there. He was always there, always watching, always listening.

   “Honey, it’s not healthy for you to be like this,” my father replied, setting his newspaper down. “It will be fine, I’ll find a new jo—“

    “Can’t you send me away to boarding school or something?” I blurted loudly, surprising myself.

    “Bae,no—“ my mother began, her brows wrinkling.

   “Maybe that’s what’s best,”  Dad interrupted, biting the inside of his cheek. My eyebrows shot up with surprise, was he serious? My father, the clingier one of my two parents, was going to let me move far away…without him? I could tell by the way my mother’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, that she did not like this idea whatsoever.

   I told you to get out, I told him, mentally scowling.

   You wouldn’t have thought of the idea yourself. It almost sounded like he was laughing. He never laughed in my head, only our dreams.

   “Charles!” My mother exclaimed. “We’re not sending her away to a boarding school!”

   “Would you rather her be unhappy here?” He asked, jaw setting.

   “She needs her parents!”

   “She needs her space,” he replied, voice deep. “She’s eighteen years old; she should be able to make her own decisions.”

   “She’s only a senior in high school!” my mother squeaked, drying her hands with a dish towel. “She’s still a baby!”

   “Honey, no she’s not. She’s a legal adult. She can fend for herself.”

   “We’re not sending our daughter away,” mom hissed, fury dancing in her eyes.

   “Only one parent has to approve.” At my father’s words, my mother took a step backwards, as if he’d slapped her. I winced slightly, frowning. He’d obviously been pondering the idea of boarding school for a while now.