by Maya Hughes
It was me and Ms. Mak. I slid into the chair next to her and leaned back, lifting the front two legs off the floor. She made a small sound in the back of her throat like she wanted to chastise me for it.
“This will be quick and painless. Where are you going next year?” She mumbled something under her breath and wrote in the answer. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Been checking up on me, huh?” I peered down at the paper as she went through the list of questions and filled in some of them without asking me anything.
“When your legions of adoring fans screech about everything you do in the halls, you pick up a thing or two,” she said, not taking her eyes off the paper. She adjusted her glasses. The dark rims worked like a barrier between her and the world. Like her shield.
“Isn’t the purpose of the interview to actually interview the person?” I slid my hand along the table and swiped the paper away from her.
“Tell me, Books, where’s your little interview sheet?” I scanned the questions even though the other guys had already answered them in their interviews. She reached for the paper, but I leaned back even farther in the chair.
“Would you stop? I don’t have time for this, Declan.”
I threw on my lazy smile, the one I knew she’d hate the most, and she certainly rose to the occasion—literally. Her chair scraped along the linoleum floor as she tried to snatch the paper out of my hands.
“I’d love to get into that head of yours.” I let the chair fall back onto all four legs, and she shot me a glare.
“I’m sure you would. Are we doing this or not, because I can easily leave your section blank?”
“That throbbing vein on your neck is kind of sexy when you’re pissed.”
Her eyes went wide, and her hand flew to her neck, trying to cover up the red flush that crept into her skin when she was irritated, which meant she had a perpetual pink glow. She cleared her throat and stared down at the paper in front of her.
“Have you heard that being a student athlete is incredibly difficult? How do you plan on making sure you keep your grades up, practice with your team, and impress the NHL coaches for four years?”
The blood drained out of my face, and she pushed her glasses up right at the center with a smug look on her face. I fisted my hands on the desk.
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a question on there.” My jaw was tight.
I grabbed for the paper, but she snatched it away. As much as I kept saying I was going to college because of my mom, it was really because of my dad. Sperm donor was more like it.
Former NHL god Archer Travis showed up to my training camp every single day. It was like he knew being there would severely fuck up my game, and congrats to him, it had worked. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d split before I was even born; he needed to be there, looming in the background, trying to ruin my chances at going pro.
I hadn’t been drafted like I’d planned. Handling my mom’s expectations would have been easy if she could have quit all her jobs. But he’d been there, his eyes on me every second. My stats as the highest goal scorer in Rittenhouse Prep history might as well have been a figment of my imagination.
But the coaches had given me another chance. They’d watch my college games and some practices, and I’d be part of the development program every summer, but I needed to bust my ass. As much as I wanted to pretend it was a sure thing, it was anything but.
“On the paper or not, it’s still a valid question. I think you’ll find that college is a bit different than things were around here.” She used her haughty tone, like she knew anything about me.
“And in what way were the things around here?”
“The way where you have everything handed to you. No one is going to bend over backward for you when there’s a sea of other people out there who can do what you do and probably better.” She glowered at me.
I bristled, my jaw clenched tight. Pushing back from the table, I stood and slammed my hands down, looming over her.
“And what about you? You think being Little Miss Perfect makes you special? That there isn’t a sea of other overachieving, straight A tight asses in college? I’d say your type is a dime a dozen compared to mine. But don’t worry. One day you’ll find the perfect match, and they’ll be every bit as uptight as you are.”
She flinched like I’d hit her, and I backed off. But watching that smug smile of hers slide off her face gave me a small bit of satisfaction.
“Just answer the questions so I can get out of here.” Her eyes dropped to the paper, and she picked up her pen.
“Hot date tonight?” I sat and folded my hands in front of me, but she kept her eyes on the table. The corners of her lips turned down as she read through the rest of the questions.
“And we’re done.” She clicked the end of her pen.
“That’s it? It’s over already? I’d have thought you’d try to drag it out. Maybe find a way to have us locked in here together overnight.” She glared, shooting up from the table. It was a long walk back to her computer as tried to ignore me. Like she’d tried to do for the past two years, but I knew I got to her. And as much as I hated to admit it, she got to me. It was like she could see what kept me up at night and zero in on it. Jabbing at the festering wound. I threw on my backpack and headed to the door.
“Catch you later, Books.” I stepped into the doorway, and I swore I heard her mumble “asshole.” I headed out to meet the guys. Totally got under her skin, but damn did I need to skate this tension off. I was about to explode if I didn’t get a handle on things.
2
Makenna
My head throbbed by the time I climbed the ten brick steps in front of our house, walked past the pillars and across the porch, which had once been one of my favorite places to play. The yearbook fiasco was making the last few weeks of school absolute hell. It wasn’t even supposed to be my job. But the editor had flaked and Mr. Vander asked me to do it because of course I would. That was me, Miss Dependable.
I stood outside the house with my key in the lock, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Both cars were in the driveway, which meant Mom and Dad were home. Not that it was all that unusual, but it was the end of the month. My stomach soured.
The still-warm engine of my car beckoned me back to safety. Just go straight to the coffee shop. But my notes and things were inside; plus going straight there meant I wouldn’t have a chance to check on the house until ten. I had taken as many hours as I could at the coffee shop. Shifting from foot to foot, I turned the key in the lock.
Pushing the door open, I couldn’t hear a sound in the whole house except for a low rumbling. Stepping into the kitchen, I raced across the bright white floor and turned the burner off under the pot boiling over. Abandoned half-chopped vegetables and a wide-open oven made it clear what had happened.
A stack of mail was strewn across the table. Bright red warnings and big bold font splayed across each envelope. My shoulders slumped and I finished dinner, put it in the oven with a timer to auto shut off and cleaned everything else up. It didn’t use to be this way. Things were different before Daniel was taken from us. Now it seemed like we’d never be anything more than a glued together version of our former selves.
After a few steps up the stairs, the tension ebbed away a little until I heard the soft sound that had kept me up so many nights before: the closed-door fighting and crying that had become a hallmark of my life over the past five years. Graduation couldn’t come sooner.
“Mom, Dad, I’m home.” Climbing the stairs to my room, I stopped by their door. My feet sank into the thick carpet and didn’t make a sound. Their voices drifted out through their closed bedroom door even though they tried to keep their words low. I don’t know if they heard me come in, but they always fought like this. Especially at the end of the month.
“Money…collections…college.” The pit was back in my stomach, and my skin buzzed with the need to get out. Stanford was a long way away from here, but I needed it.
Shame soured my gut as I pictured the life I’d get to lead. The prom I’d gone to only after Avery practically threatened me with public humiliation if I didn’t go. Acceptance letters from colleges. Daniel would never get that. But I’d do everything I could to live his dream for him. I’d lived. He hadn’t. I owed that to him.
I took a few steps backward and hurried into my room, closing my door as quietly as I could. Maybe they wouldn’t know I was here. Flinging my backpack on the floor, I flopped onto the bed and let out a shaky breath.
I needed some space.
I needed to throw myself into something else.
I needed to forget for a little bit.
Glancing over at my nightstand, I felt the heaviness slam into my chest like I’d been kicked. A picture I’d seen a thousand times. Daniel and I building sandcastles on the beach. We’d gone down to the Jersey Shore like we did every year. Up until just after that picture was taken.
After that, nothing was ever the same again. The beeps of machines and an industrial antiseptic were the last reminders I had of him. That and my failure. The old phantom pain in my hips, the kind that had made me cry out once the anesthetic wore off, was back. Curling myself tight into a ball, I tried to breathe.
The walls were closing in, and I resisted the urge to stand in the middle of my room and scream at the top of my lungs, let some of the pressure out before I lost it. Instead, I took a few deep breaths to keep the shaking under control and closed my eyes, trying to think of a time when everything had been perfect. After a few minutes, I had my head back above water. I wasn’t being dragged down under the pressure of the past, just treading water. I’d been treading for years. Getting myself together, I rolled off the bed and changed.
Picking up the note cards and books I’d need, I slung my bag over my shoulder again and crept back downstairs. At least outside I didn’t feel like the weight of everything was crashing down on me, like a pair of hands were holding my head under the breaking waves of a rolling surf. It was stupid to go home at this time of day at the end of the month. It was the same every single time.
Things were always okay for the first few weeks, and then the bills kept coming but the money stopped. Dad had been in and out of work since then. He’d make it back for a few months and then break down again. It would be a day like Daniel’s birthday or the anniversary of something we did as a family and he’d lose it all over again. My grandfather had written it into his will that we couldn’t sell the house. At least he’d put in provisions to pay the taxes, or we’d have been screwed a long time ago.
I hopped into my car and drove to the bookstore slash cafe, H&T’s Teas, on Park Ave. Parking in the back, I checked the time before running inside. The delicious smell of coffee and pastries smacked me the minute the door opened. The bell over the door jingled, and a few people behind the counter looked up, waving at me.
The comfort of this place rolled over me, and I closed my eyes, letting my shoulders relax and breathing in deep. Even though it was close to the house, almost no one from school ever ventured here. It was where old people went to have their coffee breaks, but that was fine with me. The fewer people who knew this was my hideout, the better.
Sometimes I felt like I got a caffeine high just from walking in the door and gained at least a pound. Their muffins were dangerously addictive. Three was my record, and I’d been sick for almost a week but not sick enough to never try to eat that many again.
I got a few more waves and nods as I walked toward the back. Scanning the nearly empty shop, I spotted my favorite table. The espresso and coffee machines blended together into a background hum that helped me focus. I didn’t even drink coffee, but the smell always made me want to down an entire mug.
There had been so many nights I’d fallen asleep in the comfy oversized chairs on the far end of the shop. Harrison and Tara, the owners, made me a comfy quilt to drag out while I was studying as long as I locked up after. This place was like a second home. Leaving it behind would be one of the hardest parts about going to college.
The after-work rush hadn’t arrived yet, so I grabbed my usual spot in the back and got out everything I’d need for the next few hours. Avery would be here soon. Since it was a mom-and-pop place, no one minded if I sat for a while in the cafe before my shift as long as it wasn’t too busy. After fifteen minutes of intense highlighting and self-quizzing, my head snapped up at the shake of the table.
“Why are you freaking out about this? You already got in.” Avery slid into the chair next to me, dumping her bag on the table, nearly knocking my index cards to the floor. I grabbed them and restacked them. She ran her finger along the collar of her navy zippered hoodie but didn’t take it off even though it was almost eighty degrees outside.
“Yes, I’m in, but there are still the valedictorian and salutatorian spots that are up for grabs. I’m a hundredth of a percentage point ahead. If I don’t get an A on this, there’s a chance someone could beat me.”
“And that would be a problem because…” She tugged her books out of her bag and let the question hang.
“Because I always have to be the best, right?” I let the sarcasm drip from my voice even as the words hit that hollow spot inside. The easy lie. Daniel had wanted to be valedictorian. He’d always gotten straight As and wanted to be a doctor when he grew up.
“Right.” She threw her mountainous pile of light brown curls up into a hair tie and slid her phone onto the table.
“We’ve got five more questions to finish and then we can turn this thing in.”
“I’m so ready. I can’t wait to graduate.” She leaned back in her chair, proofreading the sections we’d already finished. I always made us proof everything at least twice.
“Where are you going to college?” I glanced up, my eyebrows furrowed. Turning everything in as soon as you got it meant I never remembered the deadlines, but the decision deadline for colleges had to be before late May.
“I’m still deciding.” She dropped her eyes and picked at nonexistent lint on her sweatshirt.
“Still deciding? Aren’t commitment letters and stuff due already.”
She opened her book and took out the notes I’d prepared for the two of us. I let it slide; it wasn’t like I didn’t have my own stuff I didn’t want to talk about. We spent one mocha chino and one iced hot chocolate, aka chocolate milk for me, finishing up our portion of the partner take-home exam. I stretched my arms overhead and tried to work some of the kinks out of my shoulders.
My one and only time going to a masseuse, using a gift card I’d gotten for my birthday, she’d actually sprained her fingers trying to knead the knots out of my muscles. I existed in a state of permanent tension, but at least I was good at school. The world made sense in the books and classrooms I sat in every day.
We reviewed everything again, and I checked the time before closing my books.
Avery’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down at it and smiled so wide I swore her cheeks must have ached. It only took one guess as to who it was. Her chipped and cracked case danced across the table. Picking it up, she tapped away at the screen before spinning in her chair.
A huge black truck deftly reversed into one of the parking spots across the street. Even with a truck that big, the guy who unfolded himself from behind the wheel was massive by anyone’s standards. Emmett. There was a brief moment of panic when I thought Declan might be following behind him, but he was alone. He jogged across the street, his wide smile of perfect white teeth on full display even under the facial hair. The door to the cafe flew open, and in he walked, striding across the cafe floor like he owned the place.
She jumped up and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His well-kept beard had been in place since he started dating Avery. Apparently, one innocuous comment from her and he’d gone all lumberjack on us. He wrapped his arms around her, muscles straining under his T-shirt.
It looked like a Hulk moment was about to happen at any secon
d. I glanced around, making sure there were no children’s eyes to protect. A thumping at the table was what brought the intense bouncing of my leg to my attention. Emmett was part of the King Klowns, which wasn’t entirely fair. Only one of them really got under my skin.
“Hey, Mak.” Emmett tugged Avery to his side with his hand around her waist. She winced slightly before slapping a smile back on and beaming up at him like there had never been a more perfect guy on the planet.
“Hey, Emmett.”
“You guys finished?” He stared down at Avery and ran the back of his hand along the side of her face like there was no one else in the cafe.
“We’re finished, right, Mak?” Avery ran her hands along Emmett’s arms. I felt like I was intruding on their intimate moment as they were completely lost in one another.
“Yeah, we’re done. I hit submit.” I hadn’t hit submit. I would read it over at least two more times, but she didn’t need to be there for my obsessive-compulsive antics when it came to my grades.
“Awesome,” they said in unison, like two people who were so in tune together that they’d finish each other’s sentences. A small thud hit me right in the chest as Emmett helped her pack up her things and slung her bag over his shoulder. I’d never even been on a date, let alone had a boyfriend. Pathetic, right?
I told myself and everyone else that there wasn’t the time. The guys who’d ginned up the courage to ask had been shot down not so subtly, not that there had been many. But the idea of being one of those girls, the kind who twirled their hair around their finger when they talked to a guy and batted their eyelashes and giggled… I didn’t giggle. It was more of a barking laughter, kind of like a seal according to Avery, and those were few and far between.
She waved, turning to leave with Emmett. Stopping abruptly, she whipped around.
“I almost forgot! Em is having an end-of-year party, and you should come.” She bounced on her toes like she couldn’t contain her infectious energy. “Right, Em? She should come. It’s going to be awesome!”