by Kai Juniper
She laughs. "You sing in the shower? I never would've guessed that."
The sound of her laugh makes my shoulders relax.
"I do it all time. Really loud. The neighbors can probably hear."
She laughs again. "Are you making this up?"
I feel myself starting to smile. "How else do you think I lost my voice?"
"I don't know, but singing in the shower is the last thing I would've guessed. Anyway, I wanted to let you know I called Calvin, but he didn't pick up. I left him a message asking if I could talk to him tomorrow. Hopefully, he'll call me back."
"Is that it? Is that why you called?"
"Yeah, I just wanted to give you an update."
"Okay, talk to you later."
"Are you still going to the party?"
"Yeah, but not for a couple hours. I don't like getting there early. I need to go. I'll talk to you later."
"Briggs, wait!"
"What?"
She pauses. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just sound different. Like something's wrong."
"It's my voice. Nothing's wrong."
"Are you sure? Because if you need to talk I'm—"
"I don't need to talk. I'm good. I'm just tired. I think I'll take a nap before I go."
"Okay, but I'm here if you want to talk."
"Yeah, bye." I end the call.
Why does she think I want to talk? It's not like she knows what just happened. Can she tell what I'm feeling from the sound of my voice? If so, that's fucking amazing. My own parents don't even notice when I'm feeling like shit, or they do and don't care. My mom just proved she didn't care. I tell her Dad hits me and she tells me I'll figure it out?
Thanks, Mom. Great advice. Good to you know you're okay with your husband beating up your son.
I need to get out of here. I change into gym shorts and head outside. Running is one of my least favorite workouts, but I need to burn through this anger and get it out of me before I explode.
I sprint down the road, my arms pumping, going as fast as I possibly can. I imagine myself running away from here, away from my parents, away from the accident, away from the fucking pressure to be better than anyone else. I can't take it anymore. I just want out. I want it to end.
"Briggs?" I hear Ella's voice and see her standing on the side of the road, in front of her mailbox.
I give her a wave as I run past her.
"Briggs, wait!"
My brain's telling me not to stop, but my legs aren't listening. They're walking back to Ella. "Hey."
"I thought you were taking a nap," she says, looking fucking hot in a cropped white t-shirt and tight black yoga pants. Why doesn't she wear those pants to school? They look amazing on her.
"Changed my mind." I link my hands behind my head as I try to catch my breath. I'm shirtless and notice Ella's eyes dropping to my chest. "I'm surprised you're not inside studying."
"I don't feel like it. I think I'll watch a movie instead. You want a glass of water? You look like you could use one."
I've only gone a couple miles, but I'm dripping sweat. I should turn around and go home, but there's something about Ella that makes me want to stay. I don't know why, but when I feel like shit, I feel better when I'm around her.
"I'd take some water." I follow her inside.
She drops the mail on the kitchen counter and grabs a glass from the cupboard. As she's filling it with water, I look around at her house and realize how much more comfortable it feels than mine. It looks like people actually live here. My house looks like a corporate headquarters. My dad got all new furniture when my mom left and it looks like something you'd see in an office, not a home. It's not warm and inviting like the furniture at Ella's house.
"You want to sit down?" she asks, handing me the glass of water.
"I probably shouldn't when I'm covered in sweat." I gulp down the water, finishing the entire glass.
She smiles and takes it from me. "I'll get you more. Go ahead and sit down."
I go over to the couch and sit so my sweaty back isn't touching the fabric. If I was at home, my father wouldn't let me anywhere near the furniture when I'm sweaty like this. He wouldn't even let me sit on the metal stools in the kitchen.
"Here." Ella hands me the glass. "How far did you run?"
"Just from my house to here." I take a big drink of the water.
Ella sits next to me. "I didn't know you were a runner."
"I'm not. I mean, I don't usually run unless I'm forced to at practice."
"Then why were you running?"
I swear, the girl never stops asking questions, and they're always the questions I don't want to answer.
"I just needed to burn off some energy."
She looks confused. "Didn't you just tell me you were tired and needed to sleep?"
"I had a sudden burst of energy." I lean back, then quickly sit up, remembering how sweaty I am.
"You can sit back," Ella says with a laugh. "The couch is old. It's not going to get ruined if you get sweat on it."
I remain upright, my strict upbringing not allowing me to get sweat all over someone's couch. I can almost hear my mom scolding me the one and only time I sat on the couch after getting dirty outside. I was five and playing in the yard after it had rained. My clothes were splattered with mud. When I came inside, I saw my mom on the couch and sat next to her to give her a hug, but instead of hugging me back, she yelled at me to get off the couch. I haven't thought about that in years. Maybe she's been a shitty mom my whole life and I didn't even realize it.
"I can take this," Ella says, her hand going around the empty glass. "You want more?"
"No," I say, my mind still stuck in the past, to that memory of my mom.
Ella goes to the kitchen, setting the glass in the sink. She turns back to me. "You want something to eat?"
"What was your mom like?"
"My mom?" she asks, sounding surprised by the question.
"Yeah. What was she like?"
"I don't really remember." Ella walks back to me. "I was really young when she died." She smiles as she sits down. "I remember her reading to me every night before bed. She called it our girl time. She'd start by brushing my hair and then she'd let me put her lotion on my hands. It smelled like lavender. She said it'd help me sleep. Then she'd tuck me in bed and read me a story."
I nod, feeling sick to my stomach, either from running so fast or because I'm realizing my mom isn't the woman I made her out to be. I always thought she was the good parent. I remembered her as being loving, and caring about me, but I'm starting to think I made all that up in my head so I wouldn't feel so bad that neither one of my parents actually wanted me.
"When she died," Ella says, "my dad tried to continue the tradition." She smiles. "He'd try to brush my hair, but he was so bad at it. He pressed too hard and sometimes it hurt but I didn't want to tell him and make him feel bad so I told him I wanted to do it myself, like a big girl." She laughs, then gets serious again. "We did the lotion thing too until I realized that smelling her lotion made him really sad. I was only four, but I could sense his sadness, even when he tried to hide it from me."
Ella still has that ability to sense when people are hurting. She does it with me and doesn't even know she's doing it.
"Anyway," she continues, "going back to my mom, she was great. She loved giving hugs, and she laughed a lot. She liked to go on bike rides. She liked going to parks." She turns to me. "Why'd you want to know?"
I shrug. "I just wondered."
"What's your mom like? You never talk about her."
Don't say anything. Keep your mouth shut. She doesn't need to know. You promised yourself you'd stop opening up to her.
The warnings are running through my head and I know I should listen to them. But I don't.
Chapter Fifteen
Ella
"My mom's not coming back," Briggs says, his forearms resting on his knees as he stares down at the floor.
&nb
sp; "What do you mean?" I cautiously ask.
"She called tonight, right after you left." He pauses. "I asked her if she was ever coming back. She said she doesn't plan to, which I guess means she doesn't want to."
"But she'll come back to visit, right? To see you?"
He shakes his head. "No."
"She'll come back. She's your mom. I know she lives far away, but moms will fly across the world to see their kids."
"Not mine," he says, his jaw tightening.
He's gotta be joking, but he's really serious, so maybe not. But there's no way his mom wouldn't come back to see him. That's crazy.
"Briggs, I'm sure she didn't mean it." I put my hand on his arm. "She's probably just upset about the divorce and said it because she doesn't want to see your dad."
"She's not upset about the divorce. She's the one who filed. She's happy to be getting rid of my dad. And me, apparently."
"She didn't mean you. I think you're reading too much into this. What exactly did she say?"
"That she has a new life and doesn't want her old one. That's about it."
"What new life? What does that mean?"
He sighs. "She's living in some commune, or who the fuck knows what it is. It sounds like a cult, but she called it a spiritual center. She said coming here would ruin her energy, whatever that means."
"Maybe she's going through some kind of midlife crisis. Once she gets through it, she'll go back to being the mom you grew up with."
"But that's the thing. I'm starting to realize the mom I grew up with wasn't a good mom. I told myself she was, but she really wasn't. So how she's acting now? It's just who she is. She's selfish, and always has been. I just didn't want to believe it." He pauses, still staring at the floor. "I asked her to come to graduation. I practically begged her to, which is fucking wrong. I shouldn't have to beg my own mother to show up at my graduation."
"What'd she say?"
He huffs. "She said it was a worthless ceremony meant to praise a meaningless accomplishment, or some shit like that. Who the fuck knows? Basically, she was telling me it was stupid and that she's not going to be there."
I can't believe she'd tell him that, especially after he asked her—or begged her—to be there. I'd be devastated if my mom told me that. And if she told me she's never coming back to see me? It'd break my heart. My heart's breaking right now for Briggs.
I always thought Briggs had a perfect life. Rich. Living in a house worth millions. Driving a Porsche. Popular. A star athlete. Good-looking. Smart. In my mind, he had it all. But now I'm seeing his life isn't so great. I may not have the fancy car and live in a mansion, but at least I have a parent who cares about me. My dad would do absolutely anything for me, and my mom would too, if she were here.
"At least you have your dad," I say to Briggs, trying to make him feel better.
He laughs, but not in a funny way. It's one of those laughs that says 'if you only knew', which I guess means they don't get along.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. He stands up. "I need to get going. Thanks for the water."
"Sure you don't want some more?"
"I'm good."
We walk to the door.
"Sorry about your mom."
He just nods, then goes out the door.
"Briggs?" I say as he's walking away.
"What?"
I go up to him and hug him, knowing there's a chance he'll pull away, but doing it anyway. As much as Briggs has hurt me over the years, his mom hurt him even worse today. The pain Briggs caused me isn't even close to the pain he's feeling over his mom rejecting him. I can't even imagine that kind of pain, but I can at least try to make a little of it go away.
Briggs' arms go around me, squeezing me tight as he blows out a breath. I press my face into his chest and feel his heart beating fast. A drop of wetness hits my cheek, and then another. At first I think it might be tears, but I can't imagine Briggs crying. I'm sure it's just sweat. He's still sweaty from the run.
His arms loosen, then let me go. "I'll see ya later."
He runs off before I can say anything. I go out to the street and see him running back to his house. He's not sprinting like before, but doing more of a slow jog.
I go back in the house and try to figure out what to do with my night. My dad left out money for food, but I don't feel like going out, so I order a pizza and eat in front of the TV. I try to watch a movie, but my thoughts keep going back to Briggs. I feel really bad for him. I keep telling myself I shouldn't—that he doesn't deserve my concern—but that doesn't stop my mind from going there, and trying to think of a way to help him.
Sunday I spend all day with my dad, mowing lawns in the morning and doing a landscape project in the afternoon.
When we get home at five, I'm exhausted, but I still have to do the lab assignment I was supposed to do with Briggs. I might call him and see if he'll do at least part of it.
"Any ideas for dinner?" my dad asks, looking in the fridge.
"There's leftover pizza from last night. We could have that."
He takes out the box and opens it. "You only had two slices."
"I wasn't that hungry." I go over and grab a slice. "I have to go work on an assignment. It's due tomorrow and I haven't started it yet."
"Why didn't you tell me? I would've given you the afternoon off."
"Then you wouldn't have finished the landscaping project."
"School comes before work. You know that. I could've called in one of the guys to help me."
"I wanted to work. It kept my mind off—" I cough a little. "I need a drink." I go around him to the fridge and take out a soda.
"Kept your mind off what?" he asks, watching as I go back around the counter. "Did something happen last night?"
"I meant school. Kept my mind off school. I feel like all I do is think about school and my assignments. I needed a break." I open my bottle of soda. "Oh, I heard that guy died. The one who was hit?"
He nods as he takes a slice of pizza. "Susan told me last night."
"So what happens with the case? Did she say?"
"She'll keep working on it. She said they have some leads, but she couldn't go into details."
"What kind of leads?"
"She couldn't tell me. Honey, why are you always asking about this? I'm starting to get concerned you're so obsessed with this case."
"I'm not obsessed," I say with a laugh. "I'm just trying to show interest in your girlfriend's job. Would you rather have me not talk about her?"
"I'm glad you want to know about her, but all you ever ask about is her job, and the case she's working on. She's more than just her job."
"Then tell me about her." I check the clock. "But not now. I have to shower, then get to work on this assignment."
I grab my soda and head to my room.
"Ella," my dad says.
"What?" I turn back and see him looking through yesterday's mail.
"Did you see this?" He holds up an envelope.
"What is it?"
"It's from Harvard."
I run back to him and snatch the envelope from his hands. I rip it open and take out the letter, sighing when I see what it says. "I didn't get in."
"Don't worry about it, honey," he says, giving me a hug. "You'll get in somewhere else. I didn't want you that far away anyway."
"I knew it was a long shot, but I thought going to Devonshore might get me noticed."
"It's YOU they should've noticed. You're smart, talented, and a hard worker. They're missing out not having you at their school."
I pull away. "You have to say that, as my dad."
"I don't have to. I said it because it's true. You're an amazing girl, and one of those schools is going to take notice of that. Now go do your homework. I don't want you staying up all night. You need your rest."
Normally, I'd be annoyed he's telling me to sleep and do my homework, but after talking to Briggs, I'm grateful I have a parent who worrie
s about me. I don't think Briggs has that, from either parent.
When I'm back in my room, my phone rings. It's probably Charlotte calling to tell me about her date. I'd love to hear about it, but I don't have time tonight.
"Hey," I answer, cradling the phone on my shoulder as I start up my laptop.
"Ella?" a guy says.
I take my phone from my shoulder and see a number I don't recognize. "Yeah. Who's this?"
"Calvin. You called me yesterday?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I didn't recognize the number. I had a question for you. A tech question."
"I'm not sure I'll know the answer, but go ahead."
"I keep getting these text messages from a five-digit number. I looked it up online but couldn't find out where it's coming from. How do I find out? Do you know?"
"It sounds like you're talking about a short code. It's a set of numbers companies use to market to people. I don't know a lot about them, but I know sometimes companies share the same number so it might be hard to track down where it came from. You said you looked it up?"
"Yeah, and it didn't go anywhere. But I don't think it's from a company. I think it's from a person."
"I doubt that. Short codes aren't for personal use. They're used in marketing and they're not cheap. A person isn't going to pay for a short code just to send someone a text. Did you reply to it?"
"Yeah, and they texted back."
"You should never reply to a number you don't know. You could be giving them access to your phone and everything on it."
"Shit, really? So now what do I do?"
"If you bring your phone here, I can check to see if it's been hacked. I'll take a look at it, and if I can't find anything, I'll hook it up to my computer. I have software that can detect if it's been hacked."
"Actually, the text went to someone else, not me."
"But you're the one who called."
"Because I know you. They don't. So anyway, is there some way to stop the texts?"
"Just block the number."
"Oh, duh. I should've known that. Okay, we'll try that. Thanks, Calvin."
"No problem. And hey, if you want me to check your friend's phone, just bring it by the computer lab tomorrow. I'm usually there around noon."
