I have no idea how long we sit when the front door opens. We lift our heads, both hopeful. Instead, Anna stands in the open doorway, the cold wind whooshing past her and down the hall, lifting goose bumps on my arms. The color on her face fades to gray. “What happened?”
Mom sits up and wipes the tears from her face with both hands. “It’s okay, Anna.”
Anna remains frozen in the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob. “What happened?” she asks again, more insistent.
Mom rises. “Anna, shut the door. It’s freezing out there.”
And just like that, my mom’s back. A pool of anguish one moment, in control the next. I wonder if that’s what she did after my accident. Did she fall apart, then put herself back together? How many times can a person shatter and have enough pieces left to be whole?
Anna shuts the door, leery of whatever’s reduced our mother to crying on the floor. Mom goes to her and pulls her to the sofa, both settling on the edge of the cushions. I follow behind and stand at the entrance to the hall, leaning against the wall to support my shaky legs.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asks, her voice breaking.
Mom takes both of Anna’s hands and her face tightens with resolve. “You know that Daddy and I haven’t gotten along very well lately. We’ve both tried really hard, but Daddy’s tired. He just needs a little break, like a mini-vacation.”
Anna jerks her hands from Mom’s. “I’m not a baby, Mom, and I’m not stupid. Dad left us, didn’t he?”
Mom’s mouth drops open and she glances at me.
I step forward. “It’s only temporary. Dad just needs to think things through.”
Anna looks up, seething with anger. “You.” She stands and pushes my chest.
I stumble back, gasping in surprise. “Anna—”
She charges, shoving me into the wall. “This is all your fault.”
“Anna!” Mom cries.
Anna’s shorter than me, but her anger gives her the strength she lacks in size. Her hands grab my shoulders and shake, rattling my head into the wall. “This is all your fault! Everything is your fault!” she shrieks, her eyes wild.
“Anna!” Mom grips Anna’s shoulders and pulls her away, wrapping her arms around Anna’s body. “It’s not Julia’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just happened.”
Anna collapses into Mom, despair replacing her anger. The air in the room becomes too thick to breathe, the misery tainting our house too suffocating. I grab my heavy sweater and cell phone off the bed, then run out the front door. I need to escape, even if it’s only an illusion.
I wander for an hour before ending up in a park a few blocks from my house. The cold wind ensures that it’s deserted. I sit on a swing and push off, my feet reaching for the sky. As the swing comes back down, I tuck my feet tight, my legs too long for the height between the seat and the ground, and pump hard. My feet shoot up farther. I close my eyes and lean back, my hair streaming behind me. I’m flying, far, far away from all the pain and despair and torment. The wind rushes over my face and the weight on my heart lifts, if only for this moment.
For a brief second, I consider letting go, flying off into the unknown where I don’t have to deal with rejection and guilt. Or plunging to my death. Either is an acceptable option.
I stop pumping and let the swing slow until it barely moves then lean my head against the chain. Dad is gone. I’ve driven him away and now Mom and Anna pay the price. I search my brain looking for the way to fix everything and make it better but come up with nothing.
Some things can’t be undone.
The phone in my jeans pocket buzzes. It’s vibrated several times since I fled the house. I’ve ignored it, not ready to talk to Mom, but I’ve worried her enough already. I dig it out and find ten missed calls from Mom. Five texts and a phone call from Evan.
Evan.
My eyes sink closed. My life is a complicated mess and I can’t drag Evan into it. The best thing to do is talk to him as little as possible. The thought twists like a knife in my heart, the grief more overwhelming than it should be. I have no right to feel grief regarding Evan, yet denial doesn’t lessen the pain. Instead, anger rises up to take its place. Finally, I felt myself returning to some type of normal and it’s all jerked away in an instant.
I call home and listen to the phone ring, wondering if Mom has left to search for me, but she answers, breathless. “Julia?”
“I’m okay, Mom.”
She gasps. “Oh, thank God. If anything happened…”
“I’m okay. Really. I just needed some air and Anna needed a chance to cool down.”
“Just come home, Julia. Please, come home.”
I suck in a deep breath. The last place I want to go is home, but it’s time to think about someone else for once. Mom needs me. “Okay. I’ll be home soon.”
We disconnect and I start to read the messages from Evan but stop. There’s no reason to make this harder. I shove the phone in my pocket and stand.
It’s time to atone for my sins.
Chapter Eight
Mom gives me a bone-crushing hug when I get home, then plasters on an artificial smile and pretends as though nothing has happened. As though our family hasn’t been ripped to shreds.
Anna shoots a glare from behind Mom’s back then ignores me most of the evening, as though I don’t exist.
I can live with this. I already do.
We fake our way through dinner with Mom’s forced happy banter until the tension becomes so thick I can no longer choke down my pasty macaroni and cheese. I escape to the sanctuary of my room under the guise of homework and even though I really do have intentions of doing it, I’m distracted. The image of my father walking out the door keeps popping into my head, making the pasta in my gut feel like a ten-pound weight.
Evan calls and texts numerous times throughout the evening, until I turn off my phone, holding firm in my resolve to ignore him.
After a couple hours of studying with little progress to show for it, I give up and climb into bed. I toss and turn before falling into a troubled, dreamless sleep.
In the morning, Mom’s in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee. She makes an attempt to smile but the dark circles under her swollen eyes give her away.
I can’t stand seeing her this way and pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry.” I whisper in her ear.
She leans back and cups my check. “It’s not your fault. Do you hear me?” Her eyes probe mine, demanding an answer.
My throat burns, but I choke out, “Yes.”
“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs and squeezes me tighter.
I dread going to school. The thought of facing Sarah makes me nauseated, but the thought of seeing Evan makes me lightheaded. I’m not sure I have the strength to stay away from him.
It’s easy to avoid him all morning until I turn the corner to English Lit. Evan and Sarah stand several feet from the classroom door, Sarah clinging tighter than usual. My pulse speeds up and I freeze, several bodies slamming into me from behind. I stumble forward, then hide behind a group of people next to the lockers as I watch Evan.
He frowns, glaring at the top of Sarah’s head as she scans the hall. I know who she’s looking for. She spots me and her eyes narrow with laser focus. She tugs on Evan’s arm, wrapping it around her waist, then flashes a triumphant smile.
The blood rushes from my face.
I don’t want him, so why am I upset?
I hide around the corner. Evan pushes Sarah’s arm away and scans the crowd with an anxious look. He walks away as the tardy bells rings, but I wait until Sarah goes into the class before going in. An eerie silence fills the hall.
Even though my impromptu hide-and-seek makes me late to English Lit, Mrs. Jacobs doesn’t seem to notice. Sarah turns her head sideways to watch me slide in my seat. The way her eyes follow my every move reminds me of a predator tracking its prey. A cold chill shoots up my back. Seeing Evan has set me on edge and Sarah’s hatred nearly topples me over it.
/> When the dismissal bell rings, the class gathers their books and bags to leave. Sarah hangs back with Lindsey as though she’s waiting for me.
“Julia, can you stay behind for a moment?” Mrs. Jacobs calls to me on my way out.
“Sure.”
Sarah curls her lips into a sneer then she and Lindsey leave.
Mrs. Jacobs leans against her desk. “I’ve noticed you’re participating in class.”
I feel like a kindergartener being praised for learning how to raise my hand. “Thanks, I’m trying.”
“I’ve been thinking it might help if you joined an extracurricular activity. Forensics will be starting soon. It might be fun and you might forget about...things.”
Things. If only I could compartmentalize my problems into a folder titled Things. “Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Jacobs. I’ll think about it.”
Thankfully, Sarah is gone, but I have no desire to tempt fate by going into the lunchroom. Instead, I escape to the choir room and sit in my corner. I’ve just settled on the floor when the door swings open and I involuntarily draw a deep breath. The only person who’s ever seen me here is Lindsey. It has to be her and Sarah.
But it’s Evan. His anxious face scans the dark room and until he finds me in the corner. His face and shoulders relax as he walks over and sinks to the floor across from me. “Did you bring lunch?”
Of all the things I think he might say, this isn’t one of them. “What?”
His backpack flops on the floor in front of him and he unzips it, pulling out a brown paper bag. “Did you bring lunch?” His face looks up to see my stunned expression. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He pulls two sandwiches out of his bag. “Turkey or peanut butter?”
“Uh… peanut butter.”
He hands it to me. “Good choice. You need to put more fat on your bones. You’ve lost too much weight.”
As I take a bite, I can’t help wondering how Evan knows I’ve lost weight.
Evan studies his sandwich. “Why didn’t you answer my texts yesterday? Or my calls?”
“Evan…”
“I thought we were friends.” He sounds hurt as his eyes look up into mine.
Evan thinks we’re friends. Why this surprises me so much I’m not sure, given all his text messages and phone calls. I give him a half smile. “It’s complicated.”
He grimaces. “Aww… I see.”
“No, it’s not what you think.”
Evan pulls a bottle of water out of his backpack and offers it to me. “Then tell me what it is.”
“Evan…”
“Why are you shutting me out?” His voice pings off the metal chair legs in the room.
To my dismay, tears fill my eyes. “That would imply that I actually let you in.”
He puts his hand over mine, the bottle still in my grip. “Then let me in, Julia. Let me help you.”
I stare into his eyes and wish for things I have no business wishing for. “No.” I whisper as a tear slips down my cheek. “I hurt everyone I touch.”
He shakes his head and lifts his hand up to my cheek. His thumb wipes away my tear. “No, you definitely don’t.”
I’m floored. “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you better than you think. You’re blaming yourself for something you had no control over. You don’t remember what happened. You need to let it go, Jules.”
I close my eyes. If only it was that easy.
His lips brush my forehead and then his hand is gone, my cheek left cold and exposed. “You need to eat. You need to take care of yourself.”
My eyes open, sure I’ve just dreamed that Evan kissed my forehead.
“Do you come here every lunch period?”
It takes me a moment to recover before I answer. “No, just when I can’t deal with facing the student body of James Monroe High School.”
He grins. “Then you do come here every day.”
He puts me at ease and I can’t help laughing. “Close. How did you find me here?”
“I followed you.” Evan pulls an apple and a bag of chips out of his brown sack as I finish my sandwich. “Why did you stop answering my texts?” He hands me the chips and takes a bite of the apple.
I consider dodging his question but decide to tell him the truth. Maybe he can help. “My father left yesterday.”
He takes another bite, the sharp crunch filling the room. “You mean like on a business trip?”
“No. He left us. He walked out.”
Evan pauses, the apple halfway to his mouth.
I shrug. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He hasn’t been the same since the accident. He can’t look at me. He can’t deal with me. So he left.”
“Jules, I’m so sorry. In spite of what you think, it’s not your fault your dad left.”
His challenge makes me bristle. “How would you know? You don’t even know him.”
Evan seems to weigh his words before he speaks. “I know he sucks as a dad if he abandoned his family when they need him the most.”
“No, I pushed him too far.”
His face contorts with frustration. “Why? Because you were in an accident? Because you’re upset that your best friend died? What about unconditional love, Julia? Dads aren’t supposed to leave when things get hard.”
I look away. “I need to fix this. I need to figure out how to get him to come back so my mom will stop crying, and my sister will stop hating me.”
“Julia, it’s not your responsibility to fix your parents’ marriage.”
Indignation spills into my words. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.” What I’m saying is untrue and unfair, yet I can’t stop myself.
His hand rests on my knee as his shoulders slump. He says in a hushed tone, “I’m sorry. I know how hard it was for you to tell me. Let me think about it and see if I can come up with anything.”
I inhale a breath of relief. “Thanks.”
We eat in silence until the bell rings. Shouldering his backpack, he stands up then reaches down to me, his palm open. I look into his solemn face as my hand finds his. He pulls me to my feet and his eyes light up as his mouth lifts into a lopsided grin. I stand inches from him, close enough to smell the faint hint of his soap. The top of my head reaches the bottom of his chin and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him, our lips barely inches apart.
His pupils dilate. He drops my hand and takes a step back. “We need to get to class or we’ll be tardy.”
“Yeah.” A chain around his neck has fallen out from beneath his shirt as he bent over and the light shining through the blinds catches a pendant dangling from it. I lean closer to get a better look as Evan’s eyes widen.
It’s a Celtic love knot.
My head jerks up to face him as he hastily reaches up and tucks the necklace under his shirt.
His hand finds the small of my back as he steers me to the door. “I’ll see you in history.”
I force a smile in my confusion. “I’ll be there.”
We walk into the hallway, going opposite directions. I resist the urge to watch him walk away.
In biology, I sit in a flabbergasted daze. Why is Evan wearing a Celtic love knot? Obviously, that’s how he knew what it was on my page. It’s odd that he’s wearing one and I’m drawing one. That can’t be a coincidence. I shiver.
Irritation rankles close behind. I broke my vow to stay away from him and all it took was a brown bag lunch to crumple my defenses. Yet I can’t ignore that my heart feels lighter and that hope replaces my despair when I’m with him. Surely, that counts for something.
That and he might have answers to my mysteries.
After class, I find him waiting outside the door. He smiles at me and the sad truth sinks in. I can’t stay away from Evan and I don’t want to. My heart craves him too much.
We walk to my locker and the rightness of being next to him is undeniable. He waits while I get my book. I shift my eyes to make sure he’s really there. When I shut my locker door, he wraps his arm aro
und my waist and we walk to class. Other students stop, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.
My days of hiding are over.
Chapter Nine
I walk to my seat in History with Evan following behind. He slides into the desk next to me and I gape in shock.
He lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
“But you sit in front…”
“Not anymore.” He bends over and pulls his books from his backpack.
There are no official assigned seats so it’s not against the rules, but it’s surprising nonetheless. News of this will be all over school before the final bell. I already see students texting on cell phones hidden behind their books.
“But everyone is going to see us together,” I hiss.
“So? I want them to.” His furrowed brow proves his determination.
Mr. Archer takes roll. His eyebrows raise slightly when he sees Evan beside me, but he recovers and begins his lecture on the Vietnam War. Although I try to listen, my gaze strays to Evan. He’s intrigued by Mr. Archer’s lesson and takes notes as if he’s never heard of the Vietnam War before. I have good intentions, but my pen begins its random journey, although I wonder how random it actually is. Maybe I can find something else embedded in the dense lines if I pay attention while my hand draws them.
First, I draw the hearts and the elaborate scrolls that encase them. The drawing takes nearly the entire class period. I glance at Evan. His chin rests on his hand and he seems mesmerized by Mr. Archer’s lecture. Apparently, he really likes history.
I move to another part of the paper, making tight, entwined marks. It’s not until the bell rings that I recognize a letter. The letter E.
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