The After Girls Read Online Free Page B

tapped Becky’s nose with the tip of her finger. “Because Astrid wasn’t your friend. It didn’t happen to you.”
    Becky’s mouth turned to a pout. “No, we weren’t like you guys,” she stammered. “But I really really liked Astrid, you know? We worked together with her mom. Plus Biology. We dissected a pig,” she said, taking a sip of beer.
    Sydney scrunched her eyebrows together and threw her free arm around Becky. “Now that’s something,” she said, squeezing a little too tight. “That’ll bring you together.”
    Becky just nodded, but the thought of formaldehyde and death made Sydney feel ill. She felt something rise to her throat, but she held it down, swallowing hard. “I need some air,” she managed, separating herself from Becky, and she made her way through the crowd.
    Max was out on the deck, sucking on a cigarette.
    The air was what she needed: Appalachian cool. The smoke made the night smell sweet and dark and lovely.
    Sydney ambled up to Max and took great deep breaths: in comes the oxygen, out goes Astrid.
    “Can I steal a puff?” she asked.
    “It’s bad for you,” he said, in a high-pitched falsetto. It was what she was always telling him.
    “Just one won’t kill me.”
    He handed her the cigarette, his fingers just barely brushing hers.
    But it didn’t work like she wanted it to — maybe it was the smell or the spark of the burning paper or the whiskey, swimming its way through her veins, but she thought of another time and another cigarette, and the way the light on the end of it had just matched Astrid’s hair as she took a puff.
    It was three, maybe four months ago — just the two of them. The first time Astrid had ever smoked. One of the few times Sydney had ever seen her friend properly drunk.
    They were on a porch, and Astrid was drinking strawberry-flavored wine. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that bounced down her back. Unwashed. She was in a loose tank top, and her only jewelry was the skeleton key that she always wore around her neck. Sydney carefully lifted the key off of Astrid’s chest.
    “Why do you always wear this?”
    Astrid shrugged, her lips a thin, unwavering line. Finally: “Why do you always dye your hair?”
    “Because I like it,” Sydney said. “Because it makes me feel like me.”
    “That’s why I wear this.”
    “There’s no
deep meaning
behind it?” Sydney asked, almost laughing, because if Ella had been here, that’s exactly how she would have said it — except even more serious. “You never take it off.”
    Astrid narrowed her eyes at Sydney and grabbed the cigarette from her fingers. “Let me try this.” It wasn’t a question.
    She took a drag and then quickly pushed the cigarette back as her body shook with coughs.
    At first, Sydney couldn’t help but laugh, but then Astrid coughed so hard that her eyes got wet. Syd snubbed the cig on the deck and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You okay?”
    Astrid lifted herself up and stared around them. Her hand went back to her necklace. She squeezed it. Let it go. Ran her finger along the ribbon that fastened it around her neck.
    “Don’t tell Ella,” Astrid said. “I don’t want her to know.”
    “Know what?” Sydney asked with a laugh. “That you’re drunk?”
    “I’m not dru-unk,” Astrid stammered, but her words were split with another cough. She looked at Sydney, and her eyes looked sad. “I’m here,” she said. “I’m me. I’m not anyone else. I haven’t gone anywhere.”
    “I know,” Sydney said. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little tipsy. It doesn’t mean you’re not you.”
    Astrid just shook her head. “I don’t like it when people become someone else.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself against the railing. Either her head felt like it was spinning or she was ready to cry. “Just don’t tell Ella,” she said.
    Sydney nodded. “And don’t tell her about before.”
    When Sydney had picked Astrid up for the