Page Turning Books: Living Backwards by Tracy Sweeney (Excerpt 1)

Living Backwards by Tracy Sweeney (Excerpt 1)

After going to a less-than-reputable surgeon for a breast augmentation, our former classmate’s boobs were now crooked. We didn’t run into her often—only every now and then—but when we did, I couldn’t help but stare. The asymmetry was almost hypnotic. Like if you looked at them long enough, maybe they’d realign. That’s what you get for buying a plastic surgery Groupon.

“As much as I’m just dying to see Sarah’s bad boob job again, it’s not enough to get me excited about a high school reunion.”

“You can always bring Joan,” she replied.

Danielle knew my weaknesses well. Joan was my beautiful, pink rhinestone flask, a gift she had given me for my twenty-first birthday. Joan was my savior. Danielle named her after she caught me talking to myself one night in the midst of a particularly rough evening with Captain Morgan. Like Joan of Arc, I had been hearing voices, too. My voices, however, were alcohol-induced and coming from a pink, sparkly inanimate object. C’mon Jillian, you deserve a break. C’mon Jillian, you know you think he’s cute. C’mon Jillian, you love this song. C’mon Jillian, it’ll be fun.

It had been one of those typical drunk college girl evenings where I threw myself at a guy in my Philosophy class, danced on a table, fell off said table, twisted my ankle and ended up getting carried back to our suite by some burnouts who reminded me of Beavis and Butthead. When Danielle came home, I was pouting while nursing my throbbing ankle.

“It’s not my fault!” I cried, defensive under her condescending stare. “My good old buddy Joan wanted a shot at Mark Jensen. I mean have you seen that boy’s—”

“Jillian, honey, I’m so glad that you’re letting loose and enjoying yourself. Truly, I am,” she began carefully. “But it’s time to ease up on the cocktails once you start chatting with your flask. Talking flasks are not cool. Okay?”

But the truth of the matter was that I had more fun when Joan got me into trouble. I had spent so much of my time hiding in the library in high school. I wanted to go to parties and dance on tables and kiss cute boys. Joan helped transform me from the quiet girl who ate lunch in the library by herself to the charming and mildly-alcoholic woman I was today. And I liked that.

It had been Joan’s idea to go to the party that night. C’mon Jillian, you deserve a break. It was Joan’s idea to jump on top of Mark Jensen and shove my tongue down his throat. C’mon Jillian, you know you think he’s cute. It was Joan’s idea to dance on that table. C’mon Jillian, you love this song. And it was Joan’s idea to tell Beavis that I’d go to Laser Zeppelin with him the next weekend. C’mon Jillian, it’ll be fun. Unfortunately, in that case, Joan wasn’t right.

But even now, years later, Joan still had my back. Uncomfortable work function to attend? Trusty flask in my purse. Stuffy interior design conference with Danielle? Flask in my purse. Football game with Megan? Flask in my purse. No, Joan didn’t actually speak to me, but she always heard me when I needed her.

Sitting at my computer with a glass of wine by my side, I read through my timeline again. There was a message from Sarah Spellman in my inbox.

Danielle told me that you’ll be at the little soiree on Saturday night. I completely forgot that you even went to high school with us. Isn’t that crazy!? I always think of you as Danielle and Megan’s roommate. I’m sure we’ll have time to chat about good old Reynolds High on Saturday. Kisses.

God, I really hated Facebook.