“Ah, it isn’t?” I pull my long sleeves down over my knuckles, covering the torn skin. We both know I’ve been fighting, but she’s never mentioned it aside from that comment about seeing the nurse. Could this be it? She’s had enough?
“I’ve been watching your grades, Hunt.”
Shit. I clear my throat. I wasn’t expecting that. “It was one C, ma’am, and I’m retaking the test. I know I got a couple B’s too, but that’s still pretty—”
“It’s not good enough for the scholarship, and you know it.” She sighs, folding her hands on her desk. “I don’t know what’s going on lately, why you suddenly seem so distracted, but this isn’t like you, Hunt. And if you aren’t careful, it’s going to cost you everything you’ve been busting your butt for these past two years. Is that really what you want?”
“No, ma’am. I can fix it. I will fix it.”
Her eyes narrow like she’s trying to get a read on me. “I really hope you do. A scholarship this big is highly competitive. We want you to succeed, you know that, but there’s only so much we can do.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice is softer, but the words still make me swallow. “Ultimately, your future is up to you.”
Gripping the wheel tighter, my bare foot presses down on the gas as I take a left on Cornery Street and head in the opposite direction of the school.
Mr. Lancer won’t be happy about my no-show, but I’ll at least text him so he isn’t waiting around any longer. I’ve got an extra pair of shoes in the back I use for fighting. They’ll have to do for now even if that’s not where I’m headed.
I have somewhere else I need to go. Somewhere I usually reserve for Saturdays, but I need more than school right now. Somewhere that kills me and makes it impossible to sleep decently afterward, but also calms me down in a way nothing else can.
Not even Blue.
Blue
Itug my dress over my head, my eyes lingering on the tear as I switch the outfit out for a flowy yellow top and a pair of white jeans. I feel like I’m just sitting around waiting for him to talk to me, and I don’t want to wait. Either he needs to step up, or I will.
I grab the dress off the ground, and my phone slips from its pocket. I narrow my eyes. Wait a second. Joshua was messing with my phone. Suddenly hopeful, I flip it open.
It’s easy to spot him amongst the few other contacts I have, and when I see that he listed himself asGrumpy, I smile softly.
After hitting the call button, I squeeze the phone, listening to each ring. When it goes to a voicemail box that hasn’t been set up yet, I let out a quiet growl I’ve never heard myself make and tuck the phone into my back pocket. The longer I stand here, the more my eyes sting. It’s a silly reaction, and one I really don’t like.
So I can’t reach him. Not a big deal.
It’s okay.
He’ll come back. And then he’ll talk to me. He’ll tell me everything. Right? But I know, deep down, he won’t tell me—not everything, at least. Will there always be parts of himself he keeps in the dark? Away from me?
That sting behind my eyes flares.
What is it with people thinking they can’t tell me the truth anyway?
Joshua doesn’t want to talk about where he goes on Saturdays. Dad won’t tell me what really happened between him and Mom all those years ago. Mom never tells me why she takes off on these spontaneous trips. It’s not all work, I know it’s not. I don’t understand why she can’t just talk to me.
When a single tear wobbles at the edge of my bottom lashes, I quickly wipe it away. God, I can almost laugh at myself as I realize how I’m acting.
I’m a happy person. I don’t cry.
I just have to stop overthinking. When did I even become this overthinker?
Life is good. My dad is trying, my mom will be back soon, and even my relationship with Kimmie is steady now. I told Joshua always, and I meant it.And you’re his song, remember?
I can roll with this like I always do, and everything will sort itself out.
It’s all good.
Breathing in a lungful of air, I send Joshua a quick text to call me, leave my mom another voicemail, and make my way to the sweetgrass on my desk. Smudging always makes me feel better, and I’ve been falling out of my routine lately—another thing that probably explains why my emotions are so off-balance.
I end up going with palo santos instead of sweetgrass. Once I finish smudging and reciting a new set of affirmations, I feel a thousand times better. Refreshed and ready to see what the rest of today holds. Leaving the window open so any remaining tendrils of smoke can escape, I snatch up my tote bag.
I stop in the backyard first, collecting only the best lavender for Miss Riley. She seemed to like it the last time I brought her some, and I got a text from Annie the next day saying Miss Riley had set them on her piano.
