Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
That was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever had to do.
Like harder than prison, detox, and the Doris Day double-feature at the drive-in my mother asked me to take her to when I was seventeen.
Combined.
Emory
Nine Years Ago
“Here you go.” Mr. Kincaid handed me a pack of college brochures, secured with a rubber band. “When you apply, though, your acceptance letters will come to your house.”
He winked at me, and I gave him a tight smile.
Reaching over his desk, I took the booklets. “Thanks.”
Believe me. I knew I’d have to deal with this sooner or later.
I left his office and walked through the main office, heading out to the hallway. My brother expected me to go to college. It was one of the only areas we agreed and where I didn’t experience resistance from him, but that might change if he learned my choices. I wasn’t ready for his opinion on the matter, so I asked the dean to request the brochures for me for now. I still had a year to apply and face the fights.
I pushed through the doors, opening the top booklet as a few students made their way down the hall.
“Ooooh, Berkeley.” Someone snatched the booklet out of my hands.
I turned my head to see Elle flipping through the brochure. “Hey,” I scolded, reaching for the brochure.
She pulled away, looking at it. “You couldn’t get any farther away from here,” she said. “But I guess that’s what you want.”
I stole the booklet back. “Yep.”
Berkeley was at the other end of the country, and I could afford maybe two years with the college fund my parents had put in a trust for me.
I wasn’t planning to use any of it, though.
I’d barely slept last night after Will left, spending much of the night replaying him in my head, part of me sure I should’ve just let him leave when he tried the first time, and the other half of me sorry that I let him go the second time.
But I did decide on one thing that had been troubling me. If my grandmother were still alive when I left for college, my trust would be more than enough to pay for a year at the best convalescent home in Meridian City.
That would get her out of my brother’s house, and I’d be able to go to school without worry.
All I had to do was earn a scholarship—or ten—to pay for my education.
I looked ahead, hearing a group of students laughing.
Will stood against the lockers, surrounded by his friends, his arms wrapped around Davinia Paley as he lifted her off the ground and stared into her eyes. She smiled at him.
My heart sank, and my mouth went dry.
I faltered for a moment, blinking and looking quickly away. Looks like he found his Homecoming date. What a prick.
Elle stopped at my side, following my eyes as I looked up at him again. He held Davinia like she weighed nothing, talking to her and looking playful and happy, while everyone around them, with their clothes and their cars and their friends, looked like a Teen Vogue ad I’d never belong in.
He looked over at me, and I dropped my eyes, turning away. It was just as well.
I continued down the hall, feeling his eyes on me as I passed, and Elle and I rounded the corner, stopping at my locker.
“Will I see you in class?” she asked.
“Ugh.”
She snorted, because she was well-aware I hated literature class. Touching my arm, she continued on. “Maybe see you at lunch then.”
“See you.”
I stuck the brochures into my locker, hiding them at school for now, and pulled out my notebook, The Grapes of Wrath, and the rest of my materials for the morning, stuffing everything into my bag.
The bag grew heavier, though, as Will and his friends’ laughter escalated around the corner, my patience and silence spent. I couldn’t sit in class right now.
I wish I could. Show him that he didn’t bother me. That Davinia didn’t bother me.
He should see me tough and unaware of all of it.
It was a game I knew well.
But I slammed my locker door shut and walked down the hall, passing lit class and taking one flight up to the art room.
It was always empty first period, and Mr. Gaines didn’t arrive until he absolutely had to. I’d have the room for another hour.
Dropping my bag at my usual drafting table, I pulled my rolls of paper out of my cubby and slid onto my stool, spreading everything out and getting to work.
The bell rang, students raced down the halls outside the doors, but soon everything quieted, and all I could hear were the teachers beginning their lessons beyond the dark, quiet walls of my little hideaway.
Using my rulers, I continued the redesign of the Bell Tower, the one near the cemetery that had fallen to ruins when St. Killian’s was abandoned so many years ago. I measured the gables, as well as drew lines for each of the small decorative dormers I was adding. It was an assignment, but I’d love to see it come to fruition someday.