Free One Moment in Time by Lauren Barnholdt Page B

clubbing!
    As soon as I step off the elevator and onto my floor, a text comes in from Paige.
    Where’d u go?
    I hesitate for a second, then decide to avoid and deflect.
    Is Celia okay?
    She’s fine, she’s sleeping.
    Pause.
    Where r u???
    I don’t feel so good—too much sun, I think—gonna head back to my room and nap for a bit.
    Wow. That lie slipped out of me like it was nothing. Of course, it’s a temporary solution—a pretend nap isn’t going to keep them from wondering where I am all night.
    But whatever. I’ll worry about Celia and Paige later. Planning things out hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I mean, I tried to plan out my whole summer, my whole next year, my whole future , and look what happened. It all fell apart. So I think it’s probably better to take this night moment by moment. As soon as I decide this, I feel almost giddy. I for sure could be having a mental breakdown.
    When I open the door to my hotel room a few seconds later, Lyla’s there, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Her presence throws me—I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. She looks up at me and our eyes meet, and in that second, I miss her so much I can hardly take it.
    I suddenly wish the three of us were still friends, thatwe were here on this trip together, that I wasn’t stuck with Paige and Celia. If I were here with Lyla and Aven, I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t get into Stanford. Lyla and Aven don’t care about stuff like that—if I’d told them I didn’t get in, they’d understand. They’d help me come up with a way to tell my parents, they’d soothe me and tell me all about how Yale and Georgetown are completely amazing schools, they’d take me out to a club if that’s what I wanted to do, even if they thought it was a dumb idea.
    I hesitate for a second, then turn and walk into the bathroom without saying anything to Lyla. Then I turn around and come back out. If I’m going to be true to my whole not-planning-everything-out strategy, maybe I should try to talk to her. It’s how I’m feeling in this moment.
    I look at her, sitting there on the bed, and that same feeling of missing her overtakes me. It’s so strong I feel my eyes fill with tears. The three of us were so close—not just friends. We were like sisters—so different, but when we were around each other, it didn’t matter. I loved hanging out at Aven’s house, cooking out on her grill, swimming in her pool. I loved going shopping with Lyla, waiting patiently while she’d take her time trying on fifteen different T-shirts before picking out the one she wanted.
    I miss them both so much. I want to be friends again.
    But when Lyla turns and looks at me, I lose my nerve. What could I possibly say to her that would changeanything? How could I possibly even begin to apologize for what I did to her? Especially since she made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.
    Now that I’m out here, though, I can’t just turn around and go back into the bathroom without saying anything. I’ll look like a total idiot.
    â€œPlease tell me you didn’t use all the hot water,” is what I come up with. It’s a completely ridiculous thing to say—why the hell would I think she used up all the hot water? Can you even use up all the hot water at a hotel? I’m pretty sure they have, like, an unlimited supply.
    â€œI didn’t use all the hot water,” she says, all snotty-like. “I’ve been out of the shower for at least an hour.”
    â€œRight,” I mutter, mostly because I don’t want her to think I care. I walk back into the bathroom and shut the door and then I just stand there for a moment, wondering if I should go back out there. I want to tell her about Stanford, I want to ask her what she’s been up to, I want to ask her what happened between her and her mom and