"I was wondering if you could add a cell phone to your account for me," I said, wiping my sweaty palms on the skirt of my dress.
"Do you have money to purchase it?" she asked, folding the paper in half and setting it next to her empty coffee mug.
"Yes," I answered, not surprised by her question. It was decided years ago that if I wanted to act like an adult, then I'd be treated like one. Any money I earned during my mindless summer jobs or that I received on birthdays or Christmas was added to an account set up in my name. Donna would add a deposit to it at the beginning of each school year so I could purchase school clothes and any supplies I might need. With the exception of new shirts, bras and panties, I hadn't touched it. My original plan was to leave it behind when I was gone. It could be considered payment for sins that would never be forgiven.
"Fine. I'll contact my phone provider. You will be responsible for picking it up."
"Okay," I said, taking a shaky breath. In the span of one short conversation we'd exchanged more words than we had all of the previous month.
Donna fell silent after that as we finished our morning preparations. It was only as we were heading out the front door that she initiated yet another conversation.
"Are you attending the funeral?" she asked, taking in my uncharacteristic attire.
"I planned to. How did you find out?" I asked, feeling slightly confused. With the exception of making sure I maintained my C average, Donna steered clear of anything pertaining to my life.
"Your principal sent out a mass email to all the parents encouraging us to make sure we know where our children should be this afternoon."
"That sounds about right," I said, buckling my seatbelt.
"Did you know this boy?" she asked, backing out of the driveway.
"Not really. Does it matter?" I asked, wondering where this strange conversation between us could possibly be going.
"It matters in God's eyes," she said sternly, slowing down to let a car turn out in front of us.
"In God's eyes?" I asked incredulously.
"Suicide is a sin. You know that. By committing this sin, you're forsaking your soul to hell. It is a foolish out for weak people."
"Is hell really any different than this?" I asked, climbing out of the car as soon as she pulled in front of my school.
"If your so-called life is 'hell' as you say, it is no fault but your own. You chose this life," she reminded me.
"I was thirteen," I said, closing the door before she could say anything else. I walked up the main entrance of the school without looking back. The "cross" I had been carrying for the last four years suddenly felt too heavy for me to bear. My surroundings seemed insignificant, and I paid them no mind as I mulled over her words.
"Hey, I was waiting for you," Dean said, startling me as he jumped down from the low wall by the school entrance.
I jumped slightly at his sudden appearance by my side. No one ever walked beside me, let alone held a conversation.
"You look nice," he added somberly. "Will you ride with me to the memorial service?" he asked, walking as close as he could beside me without touching. The other students stared at us in disbelief. I watched their faces as they tried to place me. My cloak of disguise had slipped and they were getting a glimpse of me for the first time in years. I knew it was only a matter of time before the rumors about me were once again unearthed. Would Dean be so willing to walk by my side if he knew the whole truth?
"You're seriously going to put a ding in your reputation by walking with me," I said, trying to give him an out.
"Mads, I seriously don't care what anyone says," he said, coming to a halt against one of the walls so he could face me. He used his body to run interference from anyone who might have jostled me as they hurried to class.
"Mads?" I asked, raising my eyebrow questioningly.
"I'll tell you what it means some other time," he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.
I placed my hands on my hips trying to bully him silently to tell me now.
He laughed outright, but wouldn't fess up. "So, will you go with me to the service?" he asked again.
"Dean, it's not a good idea," I said, darting my eyes around to indicate the other students who were studying us with morbid fascination.
"Madison, I don't care. Let them say what they want about us. It's none of their business."
"Um, hello, you have met the student body, right?" I asked, confused that we were even having the conversation.