“Sorta.”
Her jaw drops. Her dark eyes light up. “You like someone?”
“It’s more compli—”
“Oh my God! You like someone.” She squeezes me again. “We’re going to talk about this all night. Can you help me go red?”
“Of course. How red?”
“More crimson. Like a vampire.”
“It will suit you.”
“I think so too.” She smiles as she picks up her backpack and slides it over one shoulder. “You want a ride?”
“I’d rather bike.” I motion to the clock. Her first class is in half an hour. I have an extra hour after that. “Go. Kick ass.”
“Okay.” She blows me a kiss as she steps backward. “I love you, Kay.” She reaches for the door. Pulls it open. “Don’t worry. We’ll put our heads together. Figure out this boy problem.”
I swallow the confession that rises up in my throat. “I trust you.”
She blows me a kiss as she makes her way out the door.
The lock clicks. Her car turns on and pulls away.
I fix a cup of tea. Pour my own bowl of cereal. Watch as my Trader Joe’s brand frosted wheat cereal goes from hard to soft. Force myself to eat the shredded wheat until it’s soft instead of rough.
Then I clean up all the dishes. Make another cup of tea. Stare at the text from Brendon on my phone.
Brendon: Spending the night at Walker’s place. I’ll be home late.
I can still see that look on his face. Like I stabbed him in the gut.
I need to fix this.
But how do I convince him I’m worth trusting again?
That I did it because I want all of him—especially those parts he won’t show anyone. Especially the parts he thinks are ugly. Especially the secrets.
I need to prove I can be that person. The one who really sees him. That really lets him see me.
But the thought of confessing that sends shredded wheat back up my throat.
I can barely admit it to myself, much less to him. I have episodes. Where I think about hurting myself. About making everything stop.
I can’t even use the word.
It’s too ugly.
It scares me.
It will terrify him.
And then…
He might leave.
I want him to know the truth.
I want to be like Ariel, strong enough to sing my fucking heart out.
Strong enough to go after what I want.
To show off my scars.
My secrets.
I’m not ready yet. But I can get there.
I can let him in. Or at least try. Or start to try.
I rush to my bedroom. Pore over my journal for just the right thing. Not a poem. Not a story. An entry. One about him. One that shows off something ugly, something I can stand him knowing.
It takes half an hour, but I find it.
I tear the pages out. Grab a silver Sharpie. Sign my name with an I’m sorry and slide it under his bedroom door.
That’s something.
I just hope it’s enough.
I’m halfway through my almond butter and jelly sandwich when my cell starts buzzing. Dammit. I’m going to have to come up with a lie, a believable lie, if I want Emma to drop this.
But it’s not a text from Emma.
It’s my mom.
My stomach twists. I don’t have the energy to pretend everything’s okay. Or to hold my tongue.
I pick up anyway. “Hey.”
“Kay. Hey.” Mom’s voice is soft. Loving. “How are you? How was your first day?”
“Okay. It’s been Latin and American lit. Tomorrow is chemistry and creative writing.”
Her voice perks. “Yeah?”
My shoulders rise to my ears. Is that a why would you waste your time or interesting, tell me more. “It’s just an elective.”
“No, sweetie. That’s great. You’ve always been such a wonderful writer. Your grandma keeps going on and on about your stories. She misses them.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth?”
“What?”
“About how she’s doing?” I don’t have the energy to pretend like I’m okay not knowing. Or to deny that things are fucked. They are. And I need to know how fucked.
“We’re not sure. Honestly, I don’t understand half of what the doctors say. Something about heart disease and clogged arteries. Her condition is terminal, but they’re not sure if it will be months or years.”
“Oh.” It might only be months. It might be nothing at all.
“I asked Mr. Kane about the best time to fly you out. He wasn’t sure.”
It’s so weird, her calling Brendon Mr. Kane. “Any weekend. I just need to know in advance. Jake will give me the time off.” Probably. But even if he doesn’t, I’m taking it. I’ve worked at The Pizza Kitchen long enough. I can find a better job if I have to.
“You’re just starting now. You need time to adjust.”
“I need to see Grandma.”
“I’ll check flights. See what I can do with miles. But school needs to come first, sweetie.”
School can wait. School can happen next year. Grandma might not be around next year.
But this is the best I’m going to get from Mom.