Free Here Lies Bridget by Paige Harbison Page A

back.
    Then I turned back to the house and went in. I closed the door and walked absentmindedly into the kitchen to make a sandwich so I wouldn’t be so hungry that I’d pig out on pizza at the party.
    It was always weird seeing Liam. Probably weirder for me than for him, I guessed. Though maybe it shouldn’t have been.
    I mean, we’d known each other forever.

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    We’d met in elementary school, and as kids he’d been my number-one advocate, no matter what the situation. When I was bullied, he was there standing up for me. When my mom died, he was there comforting me—which isn’t an easy feat for a child.
    When we were younger we’d spent every recess, every lunch period and every bus ride together. Once we were a little older and had a little more independence, we walked to and from school together and still went to lunch together.
    He was the best part of my day for a really long time. And he stuck by me, even when I was stupid enough to be friends with the girls who planned the Outdoor Ed event.
    It was in high school that our relationship changed.
    We’d been repainting my room—which I insisted upon doing myself, and not with the help of Todd the Professional—
    when a moment came upon us. I don’t know where it came from, or who initiated it. All I know is that one second we were squirting each other with a spray bottle of Rust-Oleum, and the next we were kissing.
    For the rest of the summer, we’d been entirely blissful together. I didn’t see the girls I’d been hanging around with (it was mostly an in-school friendship), and I felt more like myself than I had since I was a kid.
    He thought I was fun and wild (I knew because I asked him why he liked me every two and a half seconds), and I thought he was super cute, strong, funny, sweet…
    We spent the days at the pool or walking his dog (I didn’t have one of my own, thanks to Meredith’s stupid allergy), and the nights on the phone or watching movies. In the wee hours of the morning, when we would sometimes still be on the phone, we would sneak out and meet each other in the field between our houses. We’d lie on the thin-bladed grass and stare up at the sky, watching as the sunrise turned from 7 2
    P A I G E H A R B I S O N
    orange to purple to blue, and talk about everything we could think of.
    How we were still able to come up with new topics for that long, I have no idea.
    Now it felt like we had nothing to say at all.
    I left my just-made and uneaten sandwich on the counter and set off to lose myself in party decorating.
    By seven o’clock, I had worked diligently to get the party set up. It was important to me that this party be perfect, that it help to reassert my reputation.
    The streamers were hung and laced through the lattices, the strings of twinkling white Christmas lights were twisted around the tree branches, the food was set up and covered, the cooler was filled and a big bucket of ice was waiting to be filled with beer.
    This party had to be amazing. Had to be big. People had to have fun. And the only way to ensure that everyone had fun was to have alcohol. Lots of it. It just worked out perfectly that Meredith and my dad weren’t home and that we didn’t have to be sneaky about that part.
    I had given Michelle one of the two credit cards Meredith had left behind for emergencies and told her to convince her brother to get a bunch of beer for the party, and reminded her to get it at the grocery store. Meredith would quickly figure out what I’d used the card for if Beers & Cheers showed up on her transaction summary.
    I was standing in my closet, looking hopelessly at the limp abominations on the hangers, when the doorbell rang.
    “Come in!” I shouted. I heard the front door open and then two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs.
    “Hey, Bridget!” Jillian said, plunking herself down on my cushy bed.

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    “Hey,” I replied, and then looked at Michelle, who was holding a six-pack of Corona in each hand, “Do you