“Get out of my house!” she screams, the veins in her neck popping.
I should stay here, apologize, talk this out, but I don’t have time. I have to get to the hospital, to the place I’d freaked out about getting to in the first place.
Grabbing my things off the counter, I hastily run out of the house, regret and anger following me the entire way.
I probably just lost the only girl who will ever love me the way Jolie does, and yet …
My mind is still focused on my future and finding a cure for my father. I knew going into this, way back when I warned myself to stay away from Jolie, that I’d give anything and everything up to heal him.
And now, my premonition has just come true.
34
Jolie
I don’t leave my room until two p.m.
I wish I could say I was sleeping that entire time, but mostly I was crying. And trying to figure out what to text Mick to make things right. Or what to text him out of the horrendous anger chewing me up inside.
My eyes feel raw, and when I look in the mirror before heading for the door, it looks like I’ve popped a few blood vessels in them.
I can’t believe that all happened so quickly, that it went down the way it did. We had the best time at the party last night, and, I thought, we were really getting closer. Not to mention we spent the wee hours of the morning screwing each other’s brains out.
And then, before I was even roused from my full REM cycle, Mick had freaked out so badly that the damage was likely irreparable. I guess I hadn’t been listening to him about how worried he was in terms of being late, but the things he’d said to me …
They can’t be taken back. He called me every name I’ve always internalized and resented. The things he said about me were so ugly that I feel like he slashed my confidence, my self-worth and my heart in half. Everything inside me aches with sadness and fury. I have no idea how we come back from this.
This is never what I meant to happen. I never meant for us to pick up where we left off at Camp Woodwin, or for it to get so serious. I never thought I’d fall in love with Mick Barrett. Yet here I am, heartbroken the way all the books and love songs describe it.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I turn from the mirror. No use in focusing on that now. I walk out in search of food, though I’m not actually hungry. My stomach is rumbling, and I’ll see if I can manage a few bites of toast.
Christine and Madison stand in the kitchen, holding mugs that look like tea.
You know that feeling when you stumble into a room and you realize someone is talking about you? Or someones are talking about you? Yeah, I get that icy cold nail of dread dragged directly down my spine the minute I enter the kitchen.
I’m already not in the mood to talk to them, being so distraught over what happened with Mick this morning. It doesn’t matter though, because they start in on me immediately.
“What the hell happened this morning?” Madison asks, coming over with a concerned look on her face.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I pull down my loaf of bread from the cabinet and busy myself making toast.
“Jolie, we heard you all screaming at each other at seven a.m. We want to make sure you’re okay …” Maddy keeps at it.
“I’m fine.” I sniff, throwing out the line every woman produces when she is so very far from fine.
“Psh, that’s a company line if I’ve ever heard one. You’re not fine. Talk to us. Mick said some pretty ugly things,” Christine chimes in, and I really don’t want to hear from her at this moment.
I snort snidely as my toast cooks. “No shit, you think? Why do we have to do a download about the entire fight? You heard what he said. He was pissed off that we partied and he ran late for his internship. Apparently I’m irresponsible, have no goals, and I’m not worthy of a smart guy like him.”
He didn’t say that, but it was all but implied.
“None of that is true, you know that.” Madison comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist.
I shrug her off, because I don’t want anyone touching me right now. I can’t bear it. Something inside me has broken. It’s like all the insecurities I’ve ever felt about myself, Mick just held them up one by one and confirmed. Typically, I don’t give a shit what people say about me. But he’s the one person I’ve ever really opened up to. Mick knows all of my biggest secrets, vulnerabilities … even more than my family or my best friends.
“What did he mean about community college?” Christine’s tone is laced with curiosity and prying.
I knew it. I knew she wouldn’t let that go. Even if I’m in the most horrible breakup of my life, she won’t stop digging.
“You would ask that. He just tore me down and I’ve been crying for hours, but that’s all your focused on.” I turn around, practically spitting the words at her.
She holds her hands up helplessly. “We both had no idea what he was talking about, so what is going on? Are you going to community college?”
There is no way I’m getting into this discussion right now. I’ve already had one blow out today, I have no energy to do it again.
The toast pops up, and I pull it out, all but burning my fingers. “Why don’t you just add onto my stress for the day?”
“Jolie, I’m not trying to do anything, but we’re worried. What the heck is going on?” Christine pushes, and I’m at my breaking point.
“Yes, I’m going to community college. There, that good for you?” I throw my hands up, my temper flaring.
“What? Why? I thought you were in all of those courses on campus …” Madison tilts her head to the side, so confused.
I stay silent, buttering my toast even though there is no way I can eat it at this point. The girls are quiet behind me, until I hear Christine clear her throat.
“This is about the fountain, isn’t it? You didn’t skate out of punishment; this is what happened. You were ordered to go there for the semester?”
Her guessing so close to the truth is what makes me snap.
“Welp, guess you figured that one out, Christine. How long have you been snooping around? I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve thought something weird was going on. Yes, Daddy couldn’t fix this one for me, and you all left me to get picked up alone. I didn’t say even one of your names, but that wouldn’t have stopped you from berating me about community college, would it? You want to know why I didn’t tell you? Because I knew I’d get the holier than thou, Christine talk about how I’d fucked up. Or maybe you would have gone the route of why my spoiled princess ass couldn’t just pay off whatever punishment it was? Is that what’s running through your mind?”
“No one is saying that, girl.” Madison tries to give me a hug.
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand.
Christine looks stricken, but it doesn’t mean she hasn’t thought those things. “Jolie, I’m … I would never want you to be in that situation. How can you even think that? I hate that you thought you couldn’t tell us that.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Because I don’t get to have problems, remember? Every time I try to vent, I’m told that I have money, so it shouldn’t be that big of a problem. Or some sort of judgment like that. After a while, I just started playing my part like you all wanted me to.”
Leaving my toast abandoned on the counter, I stomp back to my room and slam the door.
I have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I don’t want to stay in this house, the one that has always felt the closest like home.
For the first time in a very long time, my desire to return to my family home is actually something I feel in my soul. I need to get away from Salem Walsh, to lick my wounds, to mourn.
But damn if my world doesn’t feel so fucking lonely right now.
35
Jolie
The house is quiet, nothing on but an old rerun of a Real Housewives franchise on my TV.
I’m lying upside down on my bed, my head hanging off the end so that my v
ision is up into the canopy hanging high above. It’s how I spend most days, never leaving this California king, and I’m so sad I could just shrivel up into a ball.
It’s been two weeks since I came home for winter break, and I’ve barely seen another human being. My parents were home for the first six days, just until after Christmas, and then jetted off to Milan. When they asked if I wanted to come with them, I thought about it. I really did. An international escape sounded like the perfect medicine for me right now.
But then I thought about what Dean Wassak said, and how Christine regarded me when I said my father couldn’t fix the mistake I’d made last year. By getting on that plane and trying to throw money at my heartbreak, it would only perpetuate the issue. I’d be doing the exact thing I’d always felt so judged for, and I didn’t want to spend any more time with my parents. Before my fights with Mick and my best friends, I’d been determined to carve my own path outside of my family name.
Staring up at the four-poster bed, I try to strain to hear any signs of life. My bedroom at my childhood home is bigger than four dorm rooms at Salem Walsh put together, and my mother has redone it for the fiftieth time, in taupes and beiges so muted that I feel like I’m living inside a pair of khaki pants. There is nothing me about this room, and nothing human about the house in general. It’s a museum, a shrine to architecture and clean lines, rather than a family home that makes you feel warm and comforted the minute you step in the door.
But the peace and quiet gives me time to cope. To think about the utter disaster that is the organ in my chest. To swallow what Mick had said to me, and how I’d treated both him and Madison and Christine.
What he said to me was horrible, but I wasn’t without blame. I hadn’t listened to him when he said he didn’t want to go out. I thought I was doing something good for him, but I forgot about what he’d confessed to me. He’d leaned on me about why he worked so hard, about why he pushed himself into the internship, about his father’s disease. I should have considered it more, calmed him down and gotten to the core of it rather than being so flippant.
What I did was bad, but what he did was worse. Which was why I hadn’t responded to his call, or the message he’d sent me. I could tell, from both, that he was still pissed off at me, too. But he was apologetic as well, for lashing out and calling me those ugly names. And from his message, he was sorry about spilling the community college secret to my roommates.
He was the reason that I was in a fight with my roommates as well. Not that we were exactly fighting, because they’d only sent me sympathetic, concerned texts since we’d been home. Ones I also hadn’t returned. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think I could tell them about the suspension, because I didn’t want to be judged. No one in my life had ever comforted me, and I was afraid they wouldn’t have done that either. I see now, with their words and actions, that they probably would have, but I’m too wounded.
And I miss them all like crazy. Especially Mick. I miss talking to him, even about the dumbest parts of our days. I wonder every second about what he’s doing, if he’s having a tough time at home with his father’s health. I wonder if he got in trouble with Dr. Richards, and if he’s as upset as I am.
I wonder if he’s so heartbroken that he can barely get out of bed, or barely eat. I wonder if he closes his eyes when his head hits the pillow and sees memories of us.
There has never been another time in my life I’ve been this melancholy. Which I guess means I am spoiled, or blessed, or all the other things people like to heap on girls like me.
A yearning ache in the pit of my stomach wants to end this sadness, to reach out to everyone, but there is something stopping me. With Madison and Christine, it will fade. My frustration has all but dissipated with them, it’s just pride holding me back now. I shouldn’t have snapped, but I’d reached my breaking point and they’d pushed me.
When it comes to Mick, I just can’t answer him. He hurt me worse than anyone ever has, or will ever have the power to. As deeply as I miss him, as much as I’ve fallen in love with him, I’m not sure I can get past this.
So here I sit in this silent house, more alone than I’ve ever been.
More heartbroken than I ever will be again.
36
Mick
“Mick, I’m going out for a bit. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
Mom calls from the front hallway of our house, and I know she’s stalling.
I poke my head out from around the living room wall. “Yes, Mom, now go. You deserve it.”
Dad and I got her a spa gift card for Christmas, that she has yet to use in the almost three weeks I’ve been home. She rarely gets to do anything for herself, and with a rare day off of work, and me home to watch Dad, she should take this time to recharge her batteries.
“Okay, I’ll be home in an hour or so. I love you. Call me if you need anything!” Her voice is tinged with worry, but I hear her open the front door.
“We love you!” I call from my seat on the old brown leather couch.
When Dad and I hear the front door close, I turn to him. “I thought she’d never leave.”
His smile is lopsided but genuine, and I’ve missed this. As stressful as it is being home and dealing with all of Dad’s needs, I’ve missed time with my parents. Our house sits on a cul-de-sac, a two-story brick Cape Cod style with a screened in front porch. It’s filled with worn-in furniture, tables with nick marks on them, rugs that I’ve burned holes in with my middle school chemistry set. In my bedroom, the walls are plastered with posters of Battlestar Galactica, The Office, and Star Wars. It’s not the fanciest place on earth, but it’s home, and when I walk in the front door, I can always smell the scent of Mom’s homemade cooking or the fresh daisies she always keeps on the hall table.
It’s been nice to be home, to get out of the grind of classes and the internship and worrying about my parents while I can’t physically be in my hometown. Mom and I spend time cooking together, and she’s even taken a few days off her crazy schedule. Dad, surprisingly, looks better than I’ve seen him in years, though the progress is slow and it’s just a standstill on his quality of life, really. What most people would consider good health … Dad will never have that again. But the more we can prolong the decline of his disease, to hopefully find a cure, the better chances he has.
There is a football game on our years old TV, a sport I don’t even know all the rules for, but Dad enjoys it so I sit here with him. Back when he could talk without so much effort, he’d talk to me about plays and routes and the like, and I’d just sit here and let him talk at me. I wish, now, that I’d soaked more of it up so I could regurgitate it back to him.
“How”—Dad gulps—“is school?”
“School is good, great honestly. Really challenging, but in the best way possible. I’m learning a lot in my classes, and I’m hoping I can fit them all in so that I can go to medical school next year. The internship is mind blowing. The things Dr. Richards is working on are just insane, next level stuff. I can’t wait until the trial is in its early stages, to see if his theories will actually work.”
Dad nods his head—the slightest, imperceptible movement—as if to show me he’s listening.
“And … friends?”
He’s asking about my social life when he says this.
I shrug. “Yeah, my roommates are nice enough. We talk and sometimes hang out.”
“Gi-girl?” He smirks as well as he can.
My breath whooshes out, because I have a feeling Mom’s been talking to him. I made the mistake of picking up one of her phone calls with Jolie in the room, and she heard her in the background. Mom had six billion questions, none of which I answered, and now I’m sure she’s put Dad on the case to dig up some dirt.
Too bad there is no dirt to dig. Unless they want to know that their son is just as big of an asshole as every other jock and bad boy on the Salem Walsh campus. The things I said to her, the way I tore her down to justify my own temper tantrum.
They’re unforgivable.
Yes, I’m pissed at how flippant she was, but I was the worse one out of the two of us. I called her every name that she’s always wanted to scrub off her, and now I can’t take them back. She thinks I think that of her, when I was in a selfish blind rage just trying to lash out. There has been so much pressure on my back that I snapped, and it was at the only girl I’ve ever loved.
She hasn’t responded to my one call or heartfelt message I sent, and I don’t expect her to. I broke her trust in the worst way possible and managed to out her secret to her roommates. But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss her every damn second of the day. And it burns me every day that I never got to tell her exactly how I feel about her, that I put other things in front of her.
It’s what I said I’d always do, put my goals and dreams ahead of anything else, but falling in love with her shifted my entire vision.
“Yeah, there is no more girl.” I try not to meet his eyes, but his silence is blaring.
Looking at Dad, his green eyes, the same as mine, penetrate my soul. I know he’s looking for more, and I sigh, rolling my own eyes.
“There was someone, yes. We actually … we met at the camp I worked at and she ended up going to Salem Walsh. At first, it was just casual—you know I’m no ladies’ man. And she’s … her name is Jolie, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. There is no way she’d pick me out of a lineup. We kept hanging out and spending more time together, but I made it clear that my studies and my internship came first. Anyway, I let those things get in the way in the long run, because I chose them over her. I said some things that I can’t take back, and now it’s done.”
I set my head in my hands, because just talking about it makes my heart crack into a million pieces.
A noise, like someone clearing their throat, makes me pick it back up.
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