My heart ached. I loved him. Wanted him.
Maybe he hadn’t kept a secret. We hadn’t actually talked about it. It wasn’t like he’d lied to me or anything.
“Ready,” Coach Cadence said.
I shook my head, trying to clear off the groggy, foggy thoughts.
“Set,” she continued. “Go!”
We started off as she yelled behind us, “Turn right at the next road!”
As my feet settled into a steady rhythm, I realized how different our surroundings looked than when Jon showed me this area on move-in day. All around us, green stalks shot into the air, dark leaves draping off the shoots, taller than ever before. The dirt road seemed to stretch out before us, no break in the crops in sight.
Soon, though, it took more and more effort to keep up with the other girls. Before we even reached the first turn, I fell to the back of the team. Soon, I was yards behind them. At least a hundred.
If I was being honest, this wasn’t anything new. The last couple of weeks had been hard, making my averages slow. I was even further from belonging on the team than I had been when I started. Shame made me want to push myself to catch up with them, but I worried I wouldn’t be able to finish if I kept at their pace.
Nikki dropped back beside me and huffed, “You can do this, Abi. Push.”
She was right. I’d been through hell and back. Done all the same workouts as the others. I could keep up with my team.
I fought like I’d fought the year before. For my grades. For my weight. For my mile time. Every part of me longed to feel like I had earned a place on the team and that I wouldn’t just be another college dropout.
“That’s it!” she yelled.
My mind flashed back to that good feeling when I ran my second timed mile with Jon running beside me. He’d encouraged me. Helped me be my best. I wanted to be that girl again.
But my legs gave out below me, and everything went black.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I lay in the training room on one of four exam tables, staring at the florescent lights. One was burnt out. A moth fluttered in front of the other one.
The team’s athletic trainer had just left after bandaging my legs and shoulders. He’d cleaned out countless flecks of gravel and broken-off stickers, covering the wounds with stinging antiseptic before wrapping them with gauze. My entire body felt like an open wound, pulsating with every beat of my heart.
He said the physician would be coming in to do a full exam, including blood work, at which point I should be able to get some painkillers.
No matter how much I wanted them, I knew I’d never take more than acetaminophen or ibuprofen. I’d never go down the same path as my parents.
The moth in the lights slowed to a stop, and its dark outline added to the insect graveyard hanging over my head.
Gross.
I sighed. I thought one of the perks of being an athlete was getting special treatment. I didn’t know I’d still have to wait around forever for a doctor.
To be fair, it was only half past seven in the morning.
I wished I had my phone to keep my mind busy. Even a textbook or homework assignment would be better than sitting here letting my brain wander. What did I do before I had a phone with data?
Oh yeah, books.
But I didn’t have any of those tucked in my sweatpants.
I stared at a diagram of the human body framed on the wall, reading each muscle and vein on the poster, not really taking any of it in.
There were muffled voices outside the door. They got louder, almost like an argument. But then the yelling stalled, and a man walked in. He didn’t have a white coat on like I’d expected, but a stethoscope hung around his neck.
“Abigail?” he said.
“Abi.”
“Right.” His eyes scanned the clipboard in his hand like that information was more important than the body right in front of him. “Tell me what happened.”
I rolled my eyes back toward the light, not bothering to get up. “I was running and then I passed out.”
“What do you think caused it?”
I shrugged, paper crackling beneath me. “I thought that’s why they called you in.”
He snorted softly. “Well, let’s give you a listen.”
I breathed as instructed while the stethoscope moved over my body.
“All clear,” he said.
I’d known it would be.
The wheels of a rolling chair scraped over the tile, and the cushion whooshed as he sat down. “Okay, let’s do some detective work.”
I was silent.
“Did you eat this morning?”
“Before five a.m.? No.”
“And did you drink alcohol last night?” he grilled.
“No.”
“What about this weekend? You won’t get in trouble.”
“No.”
“Have you been fatigued?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“How often?”
“You pick,” I said. “College is hard.”
“It is,” he agreed, his pen scratching over paper. “What did you have for supper last night?”
I closed my eyes, knowing my answer wouldn’t sound good. “Nothing.”
More writing.
“Have a big lunch?”
“No.”
“Breakfast?”
“No.”
“Abigail,” he said. “Are you telling me you haven’t eaten for more than twenty-four hours?”
“It’s been a hard week,” I managed.
“A week?” He barely kept the surprise out of his voice. “How long has it been since you’ve had a decent meal?”
I kept my eyes closed, wishing I could block out his question. I knew the answer. It was when Nikki had forced me to eat all that stir-fry more than two weeks ago. I’d just gotten by since then, opting for sleep over food until my stomach growled so loudly I couldn’t ignore it. “A week. Maybe?”
He sighed the emotionally tired way older people often did. “Look at me.” When I rolled my head over, I was met by caring hazel eyes. “I’m going to refer you to the campus psychiatrist, and I’m calling in the team nutritionist. If you want to have any future in Upton athletics, you need to do as they say.”
He stood up and turned toward the door. “Oh, and there are people here to see you. I had them wait until we were finished.”
My brow creased. People?
When he opened the door, Jon and Nikki immediately rushed in, still wearing their practice uniforms.
Jon gingerly took my uninjured cheek in his hand, his eyes searching every inch of my body. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and folded my arms over my stomach.
He settled onto the exam table beside me, warmth leaking through his clothes and heating my body. “They said you just collapsed.”
Nikki stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. “She did. It was terrifying.”
“I must have just been tired,” I lied.
Jon and Nikki exchanged a look, leaving me on the defensive.
“What?” I asked.
Jon nodded at Nikki. “She said you haven’t been eating. That practice has been like this for weeks.” His eyes still roved every inch of my face. “What have you done, Abi?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
I stared at the two of them, torn between being ashamed and feeling angry.
How had Nikki violated my privacy in such a huge way? If I’d wanted Jon to know, I would have told him. What was Jon accusing me of, anyway? Caring for him more than myself?
But even as I thought those words, I knew my actions had gone too far for too long. I stared down at my hands, at my wrists that for the first time had clearly defined bones. I wasn’t emaciated by any stretch of the word, but I wasn’t healthy either.
As Jon had asked, what had I done?
Jon didn’t leave me time to answer his question, instead saying, “Nikki told me about the notes.”
I gaped at h
er. Now I was mad. Why had she worried him with something I’d wanted to keep to myself? He had enough to worry about, much less me and letters we could do nothing about. This stressed look on his face with deep lines and creased corners was exactly what I had been trying to avoid.
“Have you told the cops?” he demanded.
“We did,” Nikki spoke up, but at my glare, she quieted.
“They blew it off,” I said. “There’s nothing they could do, and I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I am worried,” he said, more angry than concerned. “You’ve been so stressed about it you’ve stopped eating! Why have you been doing this to yourself?”
“I—” My dry throat kept me from finishing. I swallowed and looked down at my hands. They looked like a stranger’s. “I just got caught up in it all.”
“Not good enough,” he said, livid. “I need an answer. A real one.”
Somehow, I managed to bring my eyes up to his. “I did it for you.”
The horror that crossed his face was so much more pronounced than the worry before. He swayed on the table, and he gripped the edge of it to steady himself. “What do you mean you did this for me?” He gestured at me. “What made you think I ever wanted this?”
Every one of my cracks separated from the gold, if there ever was any. I had to make him understand. “I was just some charity case Coach Cadence took on to get you. I wanted to earn my place here. To earn you.”
His jaw worked, and he wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “I’m not a trophy you can earn. I wanted to be with you—fat, skinny, couch potato, college athlete—I didn’t care! Everything I loved about you was already there. Don’t you understand that?”
“No!” I cried, barely noticing Nikki shying away from us. “Of course I don’t understand it! Look at you! You’re attractive, athletic, smart, kind. You could get any girl you want, and you choose me? Of course it doesn’t make sense!”
“Are we here again?” he asked, exasperated. “Abi, how can I get it through to you that I think you’re amazing? What other people have done to you has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”
“But what about what I’ve done?” I asked. “Or haven’t done?”
His eyes seemed to go darker, like he had caught on to what I was referring to. “What do you mean?”
I bit my lip, shook my head, unable to say it out loud. “I just don’t know how to reconcile this. Us. How did I end up with you?”
He raked his hands through his hair. “You have got to take me off that pedestal, Abi. I can’t live up to that guy you’re saying I am.”
“I can’t live up to the girl who deserves him.”
“Then I have nothing more to say.” He stood up and started walking away.
I sat up, leaning toward him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s over.” He turned and continued walking away. “I can’t be the reason you hurt yourself. Not anymore.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The nutritionist came in after Jon left, but I wasn’t there. Not mentally, at least.
I was in the moment where Jon had said it was over and walked away.
At the worst moment of my life.
At the moment where I ruined everything that mattered to me.
So when she scheduled regular counseling appointments for me, I nodded. When she told me one of her graduate assistants would be meeting me at every meal and spending the following hour after with me to make sure I wouldn’t purge, I shrugged.
She said it was that or get kicked off the team.
Like that was any consequence.
I’d already lost everything that mattered to me. Running around in a circle for a college education was the least of my worries.
Some kid who looked only a few years older than me came into the training room and took a sheet from Deborah. A meal plan with a list of things to eat.
“In the meantime,” she said, “eat this.” She handed me a protein bar.
With unfeeling fingers, I shoved the cardboard-tasting food in my mouth and chewed. It was all I could do to keep from gagging. From the food or from the heartache, I didn’t know.
The guy, the graduate assistant, started walking toward the door, and when he stalled, I realized he was expecting me to follow him.
Somehow, I made my legs move. They should have been weak and shaky, but I couldn’t feel anything except the gaping hole in my chest where Jon used to occupy my heart.
I’d done everything I could to keep him, and I still managed to screw it up.
Just like I’d messed up with my parents. They didn’t love me for a reason. Chose life-ruining drugs over their own daughter. I should have been used to not being enough by now, but it hurt even worse coming from Jon.
I didn’t even care what I looked like walking into the dining hall with some guy I barely knew choosing my food and carrying my plate for me. Or that he watched my every move like I was dangerous.
Maybe I was.
To myself, at least.
I worked my way through eggs, sausage, sweet potatoes, and cottage cheese until my stomach felt like it would burst.
“I can’t eat anymore,” I said.
“That’s fine,” the guy said. I still hadn’t asked his name. He hadn’t offered it. “I can wait until it digests a little.”
He said it in that falsely cheery way people talked to me when my parents were getting hauled off to prison and photos were being taken of my mangled face. Like everything would be okay.
It clearly wouldn’t.
We sat there for the better part of two hours. He at least had the decency not to make any more conversation. I didn’t offer to talk, instead scrolling through my phone. I’d grabbed it when we picked up my backpack on the way here, looking for something, anything to distract me from this pain that just kept growing, threatening to crush my lungs.
I inevitably made it to Jon’s social media accounts. His profile picture had changed from one of us at prom to one of him at graduation. By himself. My name wasn’t on his relationship status. It had been hidden.
I covered my mouth. Just when I thought the hole in my chest couldn’t grow any larger, it threatened to swallow me whole.
“Are you okay?” the guy asked, his voice speeding. “Do you feel sick? Do I need to get you a bucket?”
I couldn’t even bring myself to unglue my eyes from the screen long enough to tell him to stop running for a cup.
When I finally managed to break my gaze away, he was talking to someone behind the serving line, gesturing wildly.
I made a run for it. I didn’t know where or why, but I left the dining hall as fast as I could. With the doors closing behind me, I dialed the only numbers I could think of in my phone.
Eric picked up. “Hey, beautiful, what are you doing?”
“Come pick me up,” I said, barely masking my hysteria. “Now.”
“Is everything okay?”
The grad assistant’s voice yelled behind me.
“Come pick me up,” I repeated, my voice rising. “The dorm parking lot. Now.”
“I’ll be there,” he said and hung up.
I gripped my phone tightly in my hand and ran. I needed to get as far away from here, from my feelings, as I possibly could.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
A pickup pulled alongside me, and Eric yelled my name out the window.
I ran to the passenger side and yanked the door open.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern plain on his face. “Are you hurt?”
“Get me out of here.” I threw my backpack inside, climbed in, and slammed the door behind me. “Anywhere.”
While he drove, I curled into the passenger seat and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. Until some combination of the heavy food in my stomach and the weight on my heart dragged me into dark sleep shrouded with shadowy figures.
When I blearily blinked my eyes open, Eric was still driving, his fingers thrumming on the steering wheel.
I pushed myself up, looking at the pastures flying past our windows. At the dust billowing behind us. At the hazy sky. How long had I been asleep?
“Where are we?” I asked.
“A little north of the border,” he said, staring straight ahead, expressionless.
“The border?” My mind was still fuzzy from the sleep and the food and the day. “Which one?”
“Mexico,” he said.
My brows came together. “What are we doing here?”
His lips quirked, but no humor lit his eyes. “You said to take you anywhere. I thought I’d show you the family ranch.”
I shifted in my seat, feeling little unsettled. “Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “It was about as far away from the college as I could think.”
As far away from Jon.
I sat back in my seat, trying to make myself stay calm. His dash clock said one o’clock. I knew that couldn’t be right. When I looked for my phone to see what time it was, I couldn’t find it. I looked through my backpack, even checking the small front pocket, but I must have lost it in my race to get away from the cafeteria.
All I found there was Eric’s number from the first day of class. Something about the note looked eerily familiar—
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I answered, too quickly. “Are we almost there?”
“Almost,” he said.
“Will we make it back to the college by morning?”
He shrugged. “You might miss a few classes. Seemed like you had bigger things to worry about when you called me and cried yourself to sleep.”
He was right. Missing a few classes wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’d probably get kicked off the track team, but at this point, I couldn’t care less. I could go home to Grandma and lick my wounds. Tell her college hadn’t panned out. Get a job at the restaurant with Stormy now that the Scollers wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
Besides, I needed the distraction from Jon. The way he’d looked at me.
We rode in silence for another hour until he turned onto a trail off the road. I tried to make out our surroundings, but it was so dark here, like in the country by Denison Cemetery. The vehicle rattled over a metal grate in the ground, and then he took his pickup on a well-traveled dirt path, rutted into the scrubby pasture.
Abi and the Boy Who Lied Page 16