The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

Part of this feels all wrong, like I am dangling Zack from a fishing line with no intention of reeling him in. I cared about him once, and I can probably find those feelings again, if I try hard enough. It’s the trying that’s giving me a hard time. Zack has no real ambition besides video games and working out. In junior high, that didn’t matter. In high school, Sasha thought I could do better.

We reach my class and he stops, pulling me up against the lockers. “I missed you,” he says, peering into my eyes. “I missed you a lot.”

“Did you miss me, or did your boner miss me?” I ask, deadpan, because I know he’s letting it touch me on purpose.

He sighs. “It’s not my fault you make this happen,” he says, nodding downward before putting a hand on my hip. I shuffle back a little, not wanting to be within five hundred feet of a horny teenage guy.

“I have to go.” I turn to leave and Zack rushes forward, blocking my path to Mrs. Garza’s class.

Something like sincerity crosses his features and he frowns. “Baby, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to act, okay?”

My lips press together, and God help me, my ice-cold heart starts to melt a little. “Okay. Sorry I’m being a bitch. I did miss you — I mea

n I do, I just — Sasha.” My shoulders fall. “It’s hard.”

“I know.” Zack reaches up and touches my face. “Come to the movies with me tonight.”

“Is that a question or a caveman demand?”

He rolls his eyes. “A question, obviously. Come on, it’ll be fun. You can get out of the house and we’ll spend time together.” He leans in, not even flinching when the warning bell rings. His next class is way across the school so he’ll get a tardy even if he leaves now. “Come on, Raquel. Please? We’ll go to the drive-in and watch from the back seat.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and I exhale so loudly I think everyone in the hallway hears it. He holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, fine. Regular movie theater.”

My lips press together, and the risk of getting detention from a tardy on my first day back makes me hasty. “Sure,” I say, turning toward my class. “Whatever.”

“That means yes?”

I nod, hitching my backpack up on my shoulder. “Yeah. Call me later.”

He leans in and quickly kisses me before turning and running down the hallway. Sasha’s voice tsks in my mind, and although she’s no longer in this class with me, I take a seat in the back and look over at her empty desk. I know what she would say: Dump him already.

***

When Mom gets home from work, she peeks into my bedroom and makes this weird sound that’s a mix between surprise and shock. I turn toward her, mascara wand in hand. “What?”

“You’re dressed nicely.” She studies me, mama bear unsure about her cub.

“Skinny jeans and a tank top aren’t exactly dressed up.”

“Matched with those fancy heels and a face full of makeup, I’d say that’s dressed up.” She points a stack of mail at me, her car keys still clutched in her other hand, purse strap over her shoulder. Checking on me is now her first priority, as if the sadness of losing my best friend will make me disappear into thin air if she doesn’t watch me close enough.

I shrug. “Zack and I are seeing a movie tonight.”

“That’s wonderful.” She flashes me a smile and leans against my doorway, flipping through the mail. Her brows pull together and she slips an envelope from the stack. It’s shaped like a greeting card, not those narrow envelopes with clear plastic windows that mean bills. “This one’s for you,” she says, setting it on my desk. “Probably a sympathy card.”

I cap my mascara and look over. A strip of cold slices through my chest, and tears spring to my eyes.

“You need a minute?” Mom asks softly.

I nod and yank the card off the desk. As soon as she closes my door, I rip into the envelope. No sympathy card could bring tears to my eyes now — I’ve had dozens of these cards over the last few days.

But it’s Sasha’s handwriting on the envelope.

The card inside is a generic blank greeting card, the photo on the cover a fat housecat wearing a purple feather boa around its neck. I nearly rip the thing in my haste to open it and now I’m crying, my makeup probably going all clown-face down my cheeks.

Rocki,

I have a secret for you. Please don’t be mad. Everything will make sense soon enough. Please go to my grave tonight, Friday the 26th, at six. Bring your laptop and make sure the battery is charged, okay? I love you and miss you, bestie!