I don’t care about school, or dancing, or anything right now. All I can think about is their kiss, and the foolish hope I allowed myself to feel. I can’t keep going in circles with him. Something always comes up between us that shatters my spirit, and each time it gets harder to make myself whole again.
There’s a knock on the door. I don’t move, wishing whoever it is to just go away.
“Chrissy? Are you in there?” Theo says. The mere sound of his voice clenches my belly.
“Go away, Theo!” I say from under the blanket. “I don’t want to see you—ever.”
He begs me to let him explain, but I can’t face him. Not like this, with my face red and tear-streaked. He keeps pleading, but I don’t respond.
Finally, I hear the sound of footsteps diminish down the hallway. I’m alone again.
When the well of tears finally runs dry in the morning, I call Stephanie to tell her everything, pouring out every bitter detail, every flicker of hope that was extinguished.
“Sometimes,” Stephanie begins, “people aren’t who we think they are. And sometimes, no matter how much we like someone, they just don’t feel the same way about us. You deserve someone who loves you as you are—not someone who makes you question if you’re enough.”
The ache becomes a little more bearable as her words sink in. I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Steph. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Hey, that’s what best friends are for,” she replies, her tone warm and reassuring. “And for the record, nobody knows you as well as I do, and I think you’re amazing. Don’t let anyone make you feel you’re not.”
Stephanie is so right. I can’t sit here and wallow in despair. I’ve been knocked down before, but I always come back stronger. Maybe all I need is to let go of all the people who make me feel . . . less.
Easier said than done.
The next few days at school pass in a tempest of emotional misery. I feel like a zombie, lost in my thoughts and drifting through classes with no focus. It’s hard to care about anything when I keep replaying everything in my head—Theo moving in, the way we laughed together, the tension that built up betweenus until it was tangible, Paige’s party, the concert . . . could I have done anything different?
But what’s done is done, and I can’t change any of it.
Theo is missing class again, which I’m thankful for. Out of sight, out of mind.
He doesn’t reach out, and it’s probably for the best, although, sometimes, I wish he would. How silly am I?Make up your mind!A sigh flows from my lips. I’ve turned into a walking contradiction.
Paige hasn’t said a word to me—she sits there in class staring at Theo’s empty desk. Good. If we never talk again, all the better.
Stephanie tries to cheer me up with random stories, like the horror of dissecting a frog in biology, but I only register half of what she says. I can’t pull myself out of this fog, no matter how hard I try.
At home, Theo and I are like strangers, passing by each other without so much as a glance. I keep my distance, nose in textbooks, pretending I’m busy with schoolwork so no one bothers me. I don’t want to explain anything to our parents.
From time to time, he comes up to my door, trying to explain himself, but I don’t want to hear it. I have to protect myself from further heartbreak.
The numbness I trained myself to feel carries me through the holidays and birthdays over the next three months.
Spring finally arrives, and it’s late morning on Saturday when the rumbling engine of a truck outside the house gets me out of bed. I move to the window and peek through the blinds.
My dad is helping Theo’s parents load suitcases into a U-Haul truck. Looks like the repairs at Pearsons’ new home are finished.
“Chrissy, why don’t you come down and help us?” mom calls from downstairs.
For the sake of appearances, I drag myself downstairs with utmost reluctance. My stomach twists into a pretzel of dread. I know I have no choice—refusing to say goodbye would only draw unwanted attention and questions I’m not prepared to answer.
Mrs. Pearson spots me first, her warm smile making guilt crawl up my spine like ivy on a wall. What would she think if she knew the truth about what happened between her son and me? I force my lips into what I hope passes for a genuine smile as she pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you for everything, Chrissy,” she says, squeezing me tightly. “We’ll miss having you around.”
The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. I swallow hard, my voice coming out strained. “I’ll miss you, too.”
Mr. Pearson steps forward next, and I hug him briefly. “Take care, kiddo,” he says before patting my shoulder.
And then there’s Theo. He stands tall a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets. He’d be great at poker with that unreadable expression on his face. What is he thinking? Does he even feel an iota of remorse?
