A chill runs up my spine.
“So maybe allow yourself to be used for something good.” Hayden digs into her bag, pulls out a rack card, and slides it across the table.
The orange paper has a clenched fist held in the air on the center.
MUTUAL AID TRAINING:
HOUSING & FOOD JUSTICE.
EVERYONE DESERVES DIGNITY.
JOIN GLENBROOK PEACE COALITION!
The paper has a rough texture, probably recycled. I turn it over to see an address, date, and time on the back.
“We can always use extra hands. You want to make a real difference? Help us deliver groceries to underprivileged communities. Help us fight the rezoning proposals that will mean dozens of elderly and low-income folks could lose their housing. Hell, come help us run free laundry nights and health clinics on Saturdays. Do something that matters, something that helps in the moment.”
I turn the card back over. “You want me to volunteer with you?”
“I want you to matter in a way that won’t leave you feeling empty. You won’t be a symbol to the woman who has been dealing with a toothache for six months because she can’t afford to go to the dentist, or for the man who can’t get a job because he doesn’t have a clean shirt or a ride to the interview. To the kids who finally get a real birthday cake on their birthday, or actual presents under their tree on Christmas morning. To them, you’ll just be a person. Someone who shows up when no one else does.”
Outside, the wind and rain have picked up. The sky is darkening, warning of an incoming thunderstorm.
“Look, I get what you’re saying, but…she took everything from me. I don’t have anything left to give. I have to take my power back. Ihaveto.” I move to hand her back the card, but she holds up a hand, stopping me. “I’ve waited years to be back here. Years to face her again. I can’t wait anymore.”
“Then do what you need to. Just don’t let it be the only thing you do. Don’t stop there. You’ll be surprised how much helping…well,helps.Others, but yourself too. It matters to feel like you’re part of something.”
I pull the card back toward me. “I can’t forgive her. I wish I could.”
Hayden smiles with one corner of her mouth again. It looks genuine this time. “Me either. But I’m building something with the ashes she tried to leave me with. She doesn’t get to define my future, and you shouldn’t let her control yours either. She’s just a person. One person.” She stands and throws her bag over her shoulder. When she looks back at me, her eyes are softer. “You have every right to be pissed at her, for the record. She’s hateful. Vindictive. Empty. All the love in the world can’t fill whatever void she’s so desperate to hide. She leaves rubble in her wake, behind all that bright light. Don’t let that be your legacy too, okay? She’s not worth it.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just nod. With that, Hayden leaves. She doesn’t wave or say goodbye, just turns and moves. The bell above the door chimes, and I watch her disappear into the gray of the storm, not even ducking or jogging to avoid the rain.
I sit still for a while, my hands icy, brain swimming. For the first time since my arrival at Havenport, I feel something like clarity. Not closure. Not justice. Not even hope.
It feels like…direction.
I’m getting closer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I wait for the rain to stop before walking back to campus. Havenport’s manicured lawns sing of tradition and hope, of future generations walking in the footsteps of those who came before them. There’s a promise here—one that used to stir something deep inside of me. That made me feel something I’d been longing for all my life.
A promise that anything is possible. That hard work will lead to success. That the future is bright.
Today, that feeling is a hole in my gut, a lie I accepted too easily, without ever asking for proof.
The second I didn’t fit into its puzzle, Havenport spit me out like a broken filling. Ralston replaced me, and the world moved on. Never looked back.
I move past the pavilion on my way back to my dorm. There’s a new fire in my belly—one of hope and purpose—and I embrace it. No amount of either could erase the anger, though—it’s still there, winding through my chest like a vine, climbing and crawling, latching itself onto whatever it touches. It’s been there for so long, now it feels like part of me—thick and inescapable.
The dean’s words echo in my head.I thought you’d be happy to come back, to celebrate someone who meant so much to you. Who did so much for you.
He left no room for dissent, for my version of events. He must remember how it all ended. I know he does.
Then again, at Havenport, I’m not sure any version other than Ralston’s truly matters. The way he looked at me burned the worst—somehow both patronizing and disappointed.
I’m nearing the library steps when someone catches my eye.
