Faster We Burn

So that’s what I’m doing.”
    “Have you talked to him?” She turned her attention to Zan and I breathed a little sigh of relief.
    “No, he skipped class today.” Zan’s eyes were on me, and I pretended to be really interested in a sign on the door advertising a band named Peach Pit Apocalypse that was playing the next weekend on campus.
    She kept prodding. “You text him?”
    “Yeah, he never got back to me.”
    “You think he’s okay?” We headed for the stairs because we couldn’t all fit on the elevator.
    “Yeah, I asked Trish and she said she’d stop over to see if he was still alive and she messaged me that he was still breathing.”
    “Such a way with words, that girl,” Lottie said, shaking her head.
    I wasn’t interested in Stryker skipping class. It made no difference to me if he went to class or not. It made no difference to me that I hadn’t heard a single peep from him in days. It made no difference that sleeping alone sucked worse than sleeping on the ground at summer camp, with part of a stump up my butt and a rock under my head.
    Nope. Made no difference to me what he did or didn’t do.
     
    ***
     
    “You know what I think you need?” Lottie said as we walked back later that night from the library. For the first time since everything happened with Zack, I was back on track with my homework and assignments. It actually felt good, like something I could control.
    “What do I need?” I said, thinking that I probably wouldn’t like the answer.
    “A makeover.” Her eyes sparkled under the orange glow of the streetlight.
    “A makeover?” Usually I was the one suggesting that, but I had the feeling that Lottie wasn’t suggesting the kind of makeover I usually did.
    “Not like, with clothes or anything. More like…a life makeover? Wow, that sounds bad. Like there’s something wrong with you. I mean…”
    I decided to stop her there because even though I couldn’t see her blushing, I could hear the embarrassment in her voice.
    “No, I knew what you meant. My life could use some…making over.” More like a complete overhaul. A do over. Like that was actually possible.
    Stryker’s words came back to me: So now you have to figure out who you are, Katherine Ann Hallman. When you do, let me know .
    Screw him.
    “What did you have in mind?” I said, shoving Stryker out of my mind and turning to Lottie.
    “I was thinking,” she said, preparing as if she was about to insult me, “that you could pick a major. We’re going to be signing up for classes soon, so now would be the best time.”
    It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but that didn’t mean it was something I thought I could do.
    “Do you have anything in mind?” Zan walked beside Lottie, his arm linked with hers as if they were a couple out of an old movie and he was escorting her to a ball.
    I shook my head. The truth, the thing I didn’t want them to know was that I had no idea what I wanted to do. Not a clue. Sure, Lottie was only majoring in marine bio to make her dad happy, but at least she had that, and she could always be a writer, or a librarian or a teacher or…anything. She could do anything.
    I couldn’t do anything. When other little girls wanted to be ballerinas or astronauts or presidents I never knew what to say. I always just said an actress or something so at least I’d have something to say. I’d thought about singing once, but that dream was long gone.
    “What about fashion?” Lottie and I had had this conversation more times than I could count. Yes, I enjoyed giving makeovers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to do it for a living, or even attempt it. The world of fashion was cutthroat and you had to want it more than you wanted anything else. You had to devote your life to it, and I didn’t know if I was ready to do that.
    What did I want to devote my life to?
    I came up completely blank. When I grow up, I want to be …I had nothing to fill the rest of that sentence.
    “I don’t know,” I said, wishing I could change the subject.
    “You should make a list or something. You know, all the things you like to do and then careers you could do with that.” I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d done the same thing in high school and I never came up with any answers.
    “Look, you can do whatever you want. You’re smart and strong. Not everyone gets the chances you do,” Lottie said, the smile fading from her face. I knew that she was thinking about her friend Lexie and