The Alchemy of Forever

smile.
    “No, sorry, I just mean that you seem . . . different. Distracted. And I can usually tell what you’re thinking, but right now I can’t.” She leans back in her chair, looking at me expectantly.
    I take a sip of the chai, but it’s too hot. “I’ve just been . . . tired,” I finish lamely, because what else can I say? As much as I wish I could take her hand and tell her that her best friend is gone, I simply can’t.
    “Oh, okay.” Leyla looks disappointed, but just like Charlotte, she doesn’t pry. “So can you believe Nicole?” she says, changing the topic at lightning speed.
    I think of Nicole’s pointed glares and conspicuous absence from Kailey’s friend list and shrug. “She hates me. Not much I can do about that.”
    “She doesn’t hate you. You guys will make up eventually. You always do. I don’t think she was that serious about Bryan, anyway. She’ll get over it.” I hear a trace of wistfulness in her voice.
    “Maybe. But she’s been really mean this week,” I point out.
    Leyla shakes her head, her hair swinging back to reveal earrings made of feathers and miniature skeleton keys. I’m reminded of the wind chimes on the Morgan porch, and I wonder if they are another one of Kailey’s creations. “Look, if you feel that badly, you can always refriend her on Facebook. I’ve always respected your wishes. I understand why you don’t want your friends dating your brother. I wouldn’t either. Too complicated.” I don’t miss the undercurrent of anxiety when she talks about Bryan.
    Once more, Charlotte pops into my head—how she was always sneaking looks at Sébastien, how they would smile at each other when they thought no one was looking. “You know, maybe I was wrong about that.”
    “No, no. It’s okay, Kailey. Don’t back down now.” She smiles, but won’t look me in the eye.
    “I don’t—I don’t want to control anyone. And I’m sorry if you feel that way.” I’ll never be like Cyrus, trying to control people, telling them how to feel and act and punishing them when they disobey.
    Leyla cocks her head. “Seriously, are you okay? Something seems . . . off.”
    I force a laugh. “Everything’s great. Same old me!”
    She drains her drink, looking unconvinced. She has a foamy mustache from the chai, and I tell her so. She pulls a mirror from her purse to inspect the damage and lets out a long laugh. “Can’t take me anywhere! I’ll be right back,” she says, leaving for the bathroom.
    I’m staring out the window, lost in thought, when a boy approaches our table. He’s older, probably late twenties, and has jet-black hair and a nose ring. “Hey, Kailey,” he says. I narrow my eyes. He’s clearly too old to be in high school and smells like leather, cigarettes, and beer. I wonder how she knows him.
    “Hey,” I say hesitantly.
    “Haven’t seen you around much lately. Thought you were coming out on Saturday.” He’s looking at me intently, and not in an entirely friendly way. There’s something about him that I don’t like.
    “I’ve been really busy,” I say stiffly. I want him to leave.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leyla coming out of the bathroom. “So I should really get back to my studying,” I say.
    He follows my gaze and nods. “I get it. Well, hopefully you make it back down to the club one of these days. I miss dancing with you.” He winks at me and walks away. My skin crawls.
    “Who was that?” Leyla asks curiously, settling back into her seat.
    “I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “Hey, let’s get out of here.”
    As we make our way back down Telegraph, she links her arm with mine. “I’m so glad we got to hang out tonight.” I’m surprised by the sudden physical closeness, but relax into it. I know this isn’t my life, but I’ve been so lonely and I genuinely like Leyla. She’s kind, and she loved her friend.
    “Me too,” I say.

eighteen
     
    The next day Bryan has an early morning football practice, so it’s just Noah and me in the car. I sit in the front seat and feel suddenly shy, staring straight ahead, not knowing what to do with my hands. Noah is quiet, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He doesn’t play any music, and I don’t know if he’s angry or if he just forgot, and when we get to school he doesn’t move to leave the car. I lean down to get my backpack and put one hand on the door handle when he speaks. “My dad lost his job and started drinking again. I think my mom’s