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lot.”
    “You
should have told me!”
    “I
will never tell you unless your life depends on it!” she snapped.
    “WHY
NOT?!” There was a ball of something in my chest. A roiling, seething mass of
pain and frustration and fear and utter disbelief. “Why wouldn’t you tell me to
help me?! So all of this wouldn’t hurt so much?”
    For
a moment she didn’t speak. I was hopeful she would change her mind.
    I
shouldn’t have been so naïve.
    “Look
at us, Stacy. Look at what we can do,” she said finally. “No one else can do
this! God didn’t put me here, in your life, for no reason. There must be
something I have to do. I’m not always sure what that is… but I am sure I’m not
here to make history repeat. Your life doesn’t have to follow mine, Stacy. In
fact, I’m praying it doesn’t.”
    “Well,
looking at you, I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t, too!” I snapped. Then loathed
myself.
    Older
Me flinched. Her eyes closed. When they opened again, they were bright with
unshed tears. “That was just cruel.”
    She
was right, of course. “I’m sorry,” I groaned, slumping back against the wall
again. “I just…I just can’t believe you wouldn’t warn me. I mean, I really
thought–”
    “I
did try to warn you, Stacy. I spent two hours trying to talk you out of going
tonight. You do realize I have a life? That two hours with you is two hours I
don’t do other stuff. You get that, right?”
    That
kind of slapped me between the eyes. I hadn’t actually thought much about that.
    “Well,
yeah…” Now that she mentioned it, anyway. “I just… I need your help. And you
aren’t helping.” I hated the whining, plaintive tone in my voice.
    How
was I going to face Mark tomorrow? We had an entire Saturday in the art room to
work on our portfolios. Alone. Until a few minutes ago, I’d been looking forward
to it. But now…
    Older
Me sighed. She ran a hand through her limp hair. Her face sagged. “I only want
the best for you. You have to believe that–”
    I
opened my mouth to argue with her just as the door behind me rattled and
thumped under a planted fist.
    “Stace,
you in there?”
    Mark.
    I
leaned on the wall and took a deep breath.
    “Stace?
Who’re you talking to?”
    “Myself,”
I answered weakly. Mark didn’t know about Older Me. He just thought I had a tendency
to talk to myself when other people weren’t around. Which, when you think about
it, is true.
    “Are
you okay?” he said. His voice sounded muffled, like he was close to the door.
“Finn said you fell over?”
    Lord,
give me strength. “I tripped. I’m fine. I’m just cleaning up.” So it wasn’t a
lie, I grabbed a couple of the paper hand towels from the dispenser and ran
them under the water in the sink.
    Older
Me frowned at my arm.
    I
looked down. I’d forgotten about the dust and dirt painting my hip and rear. I
groaned. Stupid Finn and his stupid–
    “Stace?”
Mark sounded alarmed.
    “I’m
fine. I’m just frustrated.”
    “Do
you need some help?”
    “No.
Go back to the dance. I’ll see you later.”
    He
pounded the door again and it rattled on its hinges. “Dammit, Stacy, stop being
a martyr.” Older Me’s eyes widened. “Are you hurt? I’ll drive you home. Or you
can just go. Karyn can give me a ride later.”
    Oh,
yes, she’d love that. “I said I’m fine, Mark. Go back to the dance before your
girlfriend feels abandoned.”
    That
was met with silence. I gave up on the wet towels, since it seemed like they
were shedding more paper on my clothes than removing dirt anyway. It took a
second to realize he hadn’t responded. Just as I froze, the tiniest cough
sounded from his side of the door.
    My
stomach sank. “She’s there, isn’t she?”
    “Are
you okay, Stacy?” Karyn’s little-girl voice purred. “Bee said you hit the
ground pretty hard. It must have hurt.”
    “I’m
fine,” I said through gritted teeth, unable to ignore the touch of glee in her
voice. Couldn’t he see that?