Love Always, Mia

by Cecily Wolfe

  Love Always, Mia

  a sequel to That Night

  by Cecily Wolfe

  cover design by Beetiful Book Covers

  ©2021 Cecily Wolfe, All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All similarities to any person,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  I might be in a room full of people, but I feel so alone.

  When Mrs. Baker, our teacher, calls my name during attendance, I raise it lazily, just enough for her to catch sight of it, then return it to my lap.

  The sun is out, and I stare through the grimy window of the classroom, with its view of the faculty parking lot and the tennis courts, both full of dirty snow plowed into giant chunks that pepper the corners of the area like filthy little icebergs.

  “Hey, can you take one and pass it back?”

  The girl in front of me holds out a bundle of papers, her voice not unkind but distant.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I take one and hand the rest of them back, nodding to the boy behind me as he does the same.

  I’ve lived in this town and attended school here for over three years now, with most of these same kids, but have only a few friends to sit with at lunch.

  And now, surprisingly, a boyfriend, although I’m wondering how long it is going to last.

  How long I will let it last.

  Mrs. Baker’s voice drones on about an upcoming test and the importance of time management as I gently touch the photo keychain that dangles from my purse strap.

  I always keep my purse open on the desk with me in every class, because it has all of my pencils and pens in it.

  This is what I remind myself as I stare at the photo of my older sister and me, me in my cheerleading uniform with my older sister Kayla hugging me from behind, bent over as she holds me tight against her chest.

  I’m holding her, too, my arms and hands over hers, and my smile is huge, almost foreign.

  Hers seems tired, though, and I never noticed it until after she died.

  Her pale cheek is pressed against mine, and every time I look at the photo I’m reminded of how I missed these signs.

  The stress that was pushing her too far, the knee injury from soccer that was painfully robbing her of much needed sleep.

  But her tired smile is true, her love for me more real than anything in my life ever has been, then or now.

  “Does anyone know where Eli is?”

  Mrs. Baker’s words come out on an exasperated sigh, and I look up to see the other kids glancing around at each other with knowing smirks.

  But no one answers her.

  “Let’s continue.”

  I fight back a yawn, knowing it has more to do with the weather than a lack of sleep, and jot down a few notes as the teacher drones on.

  Winter break is coming up, a long two weeks where I’ll be stuck with my parents at home, which is not ideal.

  I draw a snowman in the midst of my notes, smiling to myself as I think of how Kayla and I, along with her friends, used to build them in our backyard.

  Somehow I don’t think my current friends would be interested in doing the same, since they’re mostly occupied with rating the boys in our school, making silly videos for social media, or whining about their appearance.

  I always smile and go along with whatever they’re focusing on at the time, but my heart has never been in it.

  How important is any of that stuff, anyway?

  A loud thunk outside the classroom door stops the teacher, her lecture coming to an abrupt halt when the door jerks open.

  Eli Saint, smiling as he bounces a basketball on the cold tile floor, nods to Mrs. Baker as he heads towards his seat in the back corner of the room, but when she crooks a finger at him, he turns back and holds the ball in his arms, placing it gently on her desk.

  His careless grin makes most of the class laugh at his antics, which are nothing new.

  He carries no backpack or notebook, no pen or pencil, and when I watch him, mildly interested while everyone else stares, smiling and nodding their approval, he saunters past me down the aisle.

  For someone who claims not to care about what anyone thinks of him, he sure knows how to make an appearance.

  “One more tardy, Mr. Saint, and you’ll end up with another detention.”

  Whatever Eli does in response brings a hoot of laughter from the room, but I don’t look back to see what I’ve missed.

  Because I don’t care.

  Everyone has settled under the annoyed gaze of Mrs. Baker, who has started scribbling on the chalkboard, and while I know I should be paying closer attention, I find my mind wandering again.

  When this school year started, I was actually hopeful. I’m not sure why, but something made me think high school would be different, as if as I grew older I would magically find answers to questions I couldn’t give words to.

  Questions that were all in my heart, never spoken aloud.

  If Kayla was still alive, I’d be able to talk to her.

  But she isn’t, and I feel selfish thinking of how much I need her, when I should want her back for her own sake, not for mine.

  The bell rings, and I fold my notebook closed and tuck it back under my textbook before standing.

  Eli rushes forward and grabs his basketball, waving to Mrs. Baker as she shakes her head slowly at him.

  There’s a brief rumble of laughter over his actions as we all shuffle towards the door, and I’m surprised to find Josh waiting for me around the corner when I step into the hallway.

  “Hey, Mia. How’s it going?”

  My boyfriend’s smile is so welcome on this dreary morning, and I let him take my hand as we head down the hall, the push of other students around us nothing unusual.

  He usually doesn’t meet me at this time, though, so I wonder what’s going on.

  But I don’t ask as he leans closer, a lock of his perfectly cut light brown hair tilting into his bright green eyes.

  “Do you want to sit together at lunch? My mom packed a ton of chocolate chip cookies today, probably because she knows how much you like them.”

  My friends won’t mind if I don’t sit with them, so I agree, although my mother wouldn’t approve of the cookies.

  Josh is so nice to me, and his parents think I’m wonderful.

  Which is a big problem, since I want to break up with him.

  My next class is closer to us than his is, so we stop at the classroom door and he squeezes my fingers in his before backing away, waving before he rushes off with his trademark smile, the one that leaves every girl who is within sight staring after him.

  I stand still for a moment, watching him go as I rest the palm of my hand agains
t my forehead.

  “Do you feel sick?”

  A familiar voice I can’t quite place makes me lift my chin and when I do, I find Eli watching me from inches away.

  His face is so close to mine I can see flecks of green in his blue eyes, his inky black long lashes framing them prettily.

  “You look like you’re going to throw up. Should I back away? These shoes came from the thrift store but I like them a lot.”

  When his voice trails off, I take a deep breath, and realize I’m staring at him instead of answering his questions.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  I smile automatically, hoping I look convincing, because now that he mentions it, I don’t feel too great.

  Not sick, just too much in my head.

  But hasn’t there always been?

  “Not buying it, so I’ll clear out rather than put my Converse in jeopardy. You should go to the nurse’s office and lay down or something.”

  His voice is calm and sincere, and there’s something soothing in his tone as well as his words.

  “Thanks.”

  I imitate his movements as he backs away, but not before I catch the narrowing of those green-blue eyes the smallest bit, as if he’s unsure.

  Or . . . interested?

  I spend the next forty-five minutes trying to pay attention in Earth Science class, knowing midterm exams are just around the corner and if I don’t do well, my parents are going to be all over me.

  Get good grades, stay out of trouble, keep under the radar.

  Although their first daughter was the school soccer star and had all As in advanced placement classes, they’ve decided to lower their expectations when it comes to me.

  I’m not sure if it’s because they think I don't have what it takes to be as perfect as Kayla was, or because they’re afraid I might.

  But I don't.

  Lunch with Josh, after I wave at my friends where they watch us from our usual table so they know where I am, is sweet, as every moment with him usually is.

  But is that enough?

  I feel awful as I decline a second cookie, knowing his mother, who is kinder to me than my own is, baked them just for me.

  “You worry too much about your weight, Mia. You’re beautiful as you are.”

  Her words are a gentle memory I return to again and again when my mother takes my dinner plate away from me before I’m finished, night after night warning me that it’s harder to lose weight than to gain it.

  “Do you want to come over and watch a movie on Friday night?”

  I nod without looking at Josh as I crunch on a carrot stick, aware my mother would also not approve of the ranch dressing I snagged from the lunch counter to dip it in.

  “Is everything okay, Mia?”

  Josh’s voice pulls me from a daze where I find myself staring at Eli and some guys with skateboards who are talking to the vice principal.

  The skateboard boys are arguing, but Eli looks bored, his gaze drifting up towards the clock on the wall above the cafeteria doors.

  I shake my head at Josh, finally turning my focus to him with my usual smile.

  “Sure. What do you want to watch?”

  Instead of telling him we need to talk, I let him speculate as to what is new on Netflix and what he thinks I would like to see.

  Everyone is good at telling me what I would like, what I should like.

  How I should be.

  But Josh means well, and so do his parents, who are so welcoming whenever I visit.

  So why do I feel uncomfortable when I’m with them?

  “You really miss her, don’t you?”

  Josh points to my purse, and I realize I’m rubbing the keychain photo. He never knew Kayla, since my parents and I moved here after she died to get a fresh start, as they put it.

  As if leaving our small town, where everyone knew how Kayla died, could erase what happened.

  Could erase her.

  “Yeah.”

  I take another carrot stick from my plastic baggie and dunk it in the plastic container of ranch, moving my other hand away from my purse and into my lap.

  “You can always talk to me, you know. I don’t understand what it’s like to lose someone close like that, but I can listen.”

  Josh leans in closer and rests his forehead against mine.

  I should be more grateful to have a boyfriend like him, when I liked him so much last year and now, for some reason, feel like I’d rather be friends.

  When I hold back a sigh and tap my carrot stick on the ranch cup, Josh sits up straight again and nods.

  “My mom or dad and I can come get you around seven, so your mom can talk to them if she wants.”

  My mom has to know every detail about every move I make, and Josh knows it.

  With Friday’s plans made and lunch nearly over, I crumple the empty plastic baggie in my hand and look up, past Josh and for some reason, towards the door where Eli and the skateboarders were a few moments ago.

  And Eli’s eyes meet mine.

  Chapter Two

  Dear Kayla,

  I wish I was older, then I could have understood more of what went on between you and Paul. You broke up with him and got back together so many times, but I didn’t know why, and all that mattered to me was that you were okay. But you weren’t. What I have with Josh is nothing like your relationship with Paul, but I still don’t know how to tell him I don’t feel that way about him anymore. I don’t know if I really did in the first place. Why aren’t you here to help me? It’s selfish to get mad at you for leaving me, but sometimes I can’t help it. If you were here, everything would be okay, because you would know what I should do.

  Love always, Mia

  “I heard he hit Mr. Duncan with Joey’s skateboard.”

  “No, he hit Joey with the skateboard, and Joey fell onto Mr. Duncan.”

  “Actually, Mr. Duncan tried to take Joey’s skateboard, and Eli cussed him out.”

  The halls start to fill with inaccurate reports of Eli’s latest detention-earning activities, all of them way out of proportion to the incident I witnessed in the cafeteria earlier.

  I don’t correct anyone as I keep my head down and walk briskly to my next class, where I’ll find my friends whispering about the same.

  Eli didn’t lay a hand on the vice principal, but he may have exchanged words with him, which would definitely result in a detention if what we’ve all heard out of his mouth is any indication.

  When the principal at our middle school broke up a group fight during recess once, Eli’s language wasn’t just bad, it was clever.

  Creative insults aside, he ended up with a longer suspension than the other kids involved, just for making the principal look like an idiot.

  “Hey, Mia, did you hear Eli punched Mr. Duncan? We were all there and totally missed it!”

  I shake my head, smiling as I take my seat.

  “I did see it, and he didn’t touch the vice principal, although I don’t know what he said to him.”

  Bethany’s face falls, her frown exaggerated.

  “At least that means we didn’t miss anything good, right?”

  Krystal’s expression perks up, trying to find the good in the truth I’ve offered, although none of it should be a big deal to any of us.

  The bell rings, and our teacher, always a few minutes late, rushes in, flashing his usual charming smile our way as he moves across the front of the room towards his desk.

  When Krystal sighs audibly, I chew on my lower lip, watching Mr. Carl closely.

  It always seems like his gaze lingers on my friend, but I might be imagining it since Krystal’s crush on him is so obvious.

  And gross.

  Today he's too busy to give us more than a hurried look, and Krystal flips her notebook open with a pout, pushing her long, chestnut hair over her shoulder dramatically.

  The whispers about Eli come to a halt, but a few kids keep their phones out and show each other photos they took during the int
eraction at lunch, and I find myself more interested than I should be, craning my neck to see if I can catch a glimpse.

  “Phones off and out of sight, ladies, or they end up on my desk.”

  Mr. Carl strolls down our aisle and Krystal’s eyes grow wide as mine narrow.

  The culprits murmur apologies as the teacher hovers around us, and when he turns around to move back to his desk, I catch a flicker of his lips as he faces Krystal for a brief moment.

  Just long enough for me to see their eyes meet.

  The carrot sticks and chocolate chip cookie feel like a lump of mud in my stomach now, the idea that my friend is flirting with our teacher nauseating me.

  Once he starts talking again and we’re supposed to be taking notes and looking in our textbooks, I tap Krystal’s hand with my pen and she stares at me, her brown eyes wide and innocent.

  I shake my head slowly, but she looks down, her own pen moving quickly over her notebook paper as she ignores me.

  My sister would know exactly how to handle this.

  But if Kayla was still alive, we wouldn’t be living in this town, and I wouldn’t know Krystal.

  There was enough drama in my sister's high school, if everything I overheard Kayla and her friends talking about was any warning, that I would have had plenty to worry about, and she would have been there to help me figure it all out.

  She would know what to do, no matter what.

  She always did.

  Every day after school, except Fridays, I head to the room the school newspaper shares with the yearbook staff, so I leave my books and coat in my locker and head down the hall, waving to Bethany and Krystal as I see them on their way to the front door.

  “Have anything good for us today?”

  Megan, who has been dating Josh’s best friend Alex for over a year, doesn’t look up when I close the classroom door behind me, but somehow she knows it’s me and not another member of the newspaper staff.

  I shake my head, although she isn’t looking at me, and she sighs, wrinkling her nose with disappointment.

  “The last poem was really good. Like, if you sent it to one of those literary journals they would publish it for real.”

  The windows that line one wall of the room display a picture perfect view of the woods behind the school, where the snow falls heavily on the trees like a thick white blanket.