She nods. “See you.”
I wave lamely before slipping out of her room. The good thing about studying for a test is that it distracts me from the awkwardness of this afternoon. And Beck always makes me feel better with his goofiness.
Chapter Twelve
Raven
I’m glad to report that I’ve made some progress on the song I’m writing. I mean, I’m still struggling with writer’s block, but I at least have an opening verse.
Of course it’s a love song—what else? Everyone loves listening to love songs. I started writing it before Kylen arrived at HBA, but I couldn’t come up with the perfect opening. I can’t count how many pieces of paper I crumpled into a ball and threw at the garbage bin. Kylen’s arrival made it impossible for me to even come up with the perfect verse. But I’m glad I’ve managed to push through.
This song is about meeting your perfect soulmate. He or she might not be the perfect person in the world, since everyone has flaws, but that person is perfect foryou. You can look past their imperfections because you get to know the beautiful soul inside. Every person, no matter who they are or where they come from, has worth. They have a spark inside them that makes them different from everyone else. Makes them shine just a bit brighter than the people around them. I think that’s what a lot of people search for in a soulmate. That special thing that makes the person unique and perfect in their eyes.
Now, the only problem is conveying that sentiment into lyrics.
I go at it for about half an hour before dropping my pen and rubbing my forehead. I think a headache is starting to form. Sometimes, I rack my brain just a bit too hard when I’m trying to come up with the perfect lyrics. I don’t even know why it’s so important to me. I haven’t shown my lyrics to anyone, not my family or my closest friends. Sophie accidentally saw them once, where I mentioned a guy I met at camp after freshman year.That’s how this whole Camp Lover Boy started. Of course I tried to deny the dude existed, but I can’t really lie to my friends. They always see right through me.
I’m about to reach for my notebook and try once again, but my phone buzzes with the name “Robin” flashing on the screen as a video call. My little sister just got a phone for her twelfth birthday a few months ago. We usually text, so I’m surprised to see that she’s video calling me.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say as I answer the call.
“Hi, Raven. Are you busy?”
Her dark hair, the same shade as everyone else in my family, is pulled into a high ponytail that sweeps against her upper back. She’s sitting on her bed in a dark room, as though she didn’t open the light or her window shades. Her brown eyes, which are usually bright with life, are dimmed, too.
“I’m not really busy,” I tell her, putting my notebook aside and discarding my pen. “Just writing some lyrics. Or, I’m trying to.”
“Oh. Are you sure you’re not busy? I know how absorbed you get when you write.”
“I always have time for you, little bug,” I assure her with a smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah…” She stares off in the distance, clearly bothered or distracted by something. “I just called because I miss you.”
My sister is similar to me in many ways. She also likes to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself. We’re super close, but sometimes I need to figure out how to pull information out of her because she doesn’t volunteer it easily. And of course I need to make sure I don’t accidentally push her away in the process.
“I miss you a lot, too, Robbie. It feels like forever since we saw each other on Parents’ Day.”
“Yeah.” She focuses her gaze back on me. “It was like four months ago. When is the next one?”
“In a few weeks. I can’t wait to see how much you’ve grown. You’re probably taller than me.”
That makes her lips lift in a smile. “Not true. I measured myself against yours on the wall and I’m still shorter than you. It would be so weird if I were taller than you. Everyone would think I’m the older sister when we’re, like, older.”
Even though some light has entered her eyes, I see there’s something weighing heavily on her heart. “Is school okay?” I ask. “Mom told me you’re one of the top students in your class. That’s so awesome, Robin.”
She nods, but she doesn’t seem to be glad about that.
“That doesn’t make you happy?” I ask.
“Why would it? It doesn’t make the kids at school suddenly want to be my friend.”
Another thing we have in common is our struggle to make friends. Robin made a best friend in kindergarten, but she moved away this summer, leaving Robin all alone. My parents told her not to worry because they were sure she’d make new friends easily, but it’s way into the school year and she hasn’t made a single friend.
“Yeah, being a good student just makes the other kids jealous,” I say softly. “Parents and teachers tell kids all the time to strive to do well, but they don’t get that sometimes it doesn’t have a good effect on their social status.”
“I wish you were home.” She lowers her eyes. “Sorry if that’s selfish. I know you love Harrington.”
“It’s not selfish,” I assure her. “Sometimes I wish I were home, too.”
