With my book open on my desk, I propped my head on my elbow and tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t get through more than two or three sentences before my mind went straight to the video someone sent me.
Jake making out with a half-naked girl.
I only watched it twice before permanently deleting it from my phone, but the damage was done. I couldn’t unsee it, and I couldn’t stop the continuous loop playing in my mind.
I had no right to be mad.I knew that. We weren’t together. I thought things were headed that way, but seemingly out of nowhere, he told me he couldn’t be in a relationship.
What he meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationshipwith me. And that hurt.
I flinched when Ms. Kiefer gently placed her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry for startling you,” she said softly. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed upset when you came into class.”
“I have a headache, and the lights are making it worse,” I lied.
She nodded thoughtfully. “If you can pack up quietly, you can go home.”
“Thank you, Ms. Kiefer,” I said, exhaling with relief.
“You’re welcome, dear. I hope you feel better soon.”
I quietly slipped out of class and hurried to my car. I had plenty of time to make it to my car and out of the parking lot before Jake arrived to follow me home, but it would be my luck for him to show up early. Since we’d been back from vacation, Phoenix wanted someone to shadow me from the moment I left school until my mom or Ink got home, and Jake volunteered for every shift—something I was happy about until I watched that fucking video.
I couldn’t handle seeing him or talking to him. Not until I had better control of my emotions. While I didn’t have the right to be mad, I had every right to feel disappointed, hurt, and rejected.
I sucked in a sharp breath and willed myself not to cry despite the tears welling in my eyes. I just needed to get home. Then I could cry and get it all out in the privacy and comfort of my own bedroom.
When I finally reached my car, I tossed my stuff onto the passenger seat and drove away from the school with the image of Jake kissing some girl repeatedly flashing in my mind. I couldn’t think about anything else.
Jake.
I glanced at the time and knew he shouldn’t be on his way to follow me home. Yet I still turned right instead of left because I didn’t want to risk passing him.
Then I drove with purpose, focused on getting home and avoiding Jake, until a rhythmic thumping sound interrupted my thoughts.
“Damn it,” I cried and frantically looked around. There was nowhere to pull over except the median. I’d never had a flat tirebefore, but Papa had assured me I wouldknow if I had one, and he was right.
Inhaling deeply, I got out to verify my suspicions—the back right tire was flat.
“At least I have something else to focus on instead of Jake and how much he didn’t want me,” I mumbled to myself and got to work changing my tire. When Papa and Nana gave me the car, Papa taught me how to change a tire. He wouldn’t give me the keys until I could do it by myself.
I jacked my car up and started removing the lug nuts, but two wouldn’t budge. I even stood on the lug wrench and jumped, but nothing happened.
I didn’t want to call my mom because I wasn’t ready to tell her why I left school early, but I needed help, and I wanted to call Jake even less.
Mom didn’t answer, which meant she was probably in the middle of a patient emergency at work. I was supposed to call Nana and Papa if I had an emergency and couldn’t get in touch with her. But they were an hour away. That was enough time for Jake to realize I wasn’t at school and call the club.
Ink.
“Hey, Ink,” I said when he answered. “I’m on my way home from school, and I have a flat tire. I tried to call Mom, but she didn’t answer. Anyway, I know how to change a flat, but I can’t get two lug nuts off.”
“Where’s Jake?”
His question felt like someone plunged a knife into my heart. “He’s … I,” I choked out. “Can you come? Please. Just you?” I asked quietly and sniffed.
“I’ll be right there. Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m on Union Street, about two miles from school.”
“Did you turn left or right when you left the parking lot?”
