My chest tightened the way it always did when he answered that way.
Me: That can’t be true.
Jasper: It is tonight.
I hesitated, then forced myself to type the truth instead of some stupid joke.
Me: I got another scholarship rejection.
Jasper: I’m sorry.
Me: It isn’t a big deal.
Jasper: Don’t do that.
I frowned.
Me: Do what?
Jasper: Decide you aren’t allowed to be hurt because something could be worse.
My thumb stopped over the screen. I hated that he knew me so well. Hated it even more because he was right.
Me: I hate that you notice that
Jasper: No, you don’t.
My mouth twitched because he was right. I loved it more than I was willing to admit.
Me: Maybe a little.
Jasper: What do you need?
I stared at the question.
What do you need?
Not what are you going to do now? Not have you applied for others? Not you shouldn’t be upset.
What did I need?
People had spent years telling me what I needed. A foster home. A social worker. A safe place to sleep. Adoption papers. Therapy. Perspective. Time.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had simply asked me.
Me: I don’t know.
Jasper: Distraction, advice, or someone to be angry with you?
A laugh escaped before I could stop it, watery and embarrassingly close to another cry.
Me: The third one.
Jasper: Then whoever rejected you is an asshole.
Me: You don’t even know why they rejected me.
Jasper: Irrelevant.