“Along with the food, it appeared they were buying things to make jello shots. They had the little plastic cups and everything.”
“Oh, we just like to make them without the alcohol. They’re still fun.”
My dad rolls his eyes.
“Avery, it’s an insult to our intelligence and common sense if you think we buy any of that.”
Slouching down in my chair, I stare up at the ceiling.
“OK. What if I promise not to drink? I swear I won’t.” Slowly lifting my head back up, I look to both of them.
“I can’t accept your word,” Dad says. “It would be too easy to give into temptation when all your friends are doing it. You’re not going. End of discussion.”
“Can you both honestly tell me you never took a drink in high school?”
“It doesn’t matter what we did,” Mom spouts. “As your parents, it’s our job to look out for your safety. We can’t allow you to go to Florida when we know there will be alcohol and partying.”
“This is so unfair. I’m eighteen, and in only a few months, I won’t even be living under this roof!”
My parents crease their foreheads simultaneously.
Shit, how could I let that slip out?
“Excuse me,” Mom says drawn out. “Young lady, you’ll be living under this roof while you attend UofL. We already decided it’s not necessary for you to live in the dorms since our home is not far from there.”
They’re not going to change their minds about Florida, so I’ll piss them off in return.
“I’m not going to UofL. I’ve decided to accept the scholarship from IU instead, and you can’t stop me. I won’t need your money for tuition, and if you cut me off financially, I’ll work part-time to pay my other expenses.”
Both of my parents drop their forks to their plates and look to each other. Dad’s hands ball into fists on the table, and I guarantee if Mom wasn’t sitting here, he would’ve slapped me already.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. I shouldn’t have to attend UofL just because you both did.”
“This is more about the fact that you went behind our backs and made an important decision like this without us,” Mom replies.
“You knew both colleges were scouting me, and I’ve been telling you for at least a year that I want to attend IU. But like every other time I try to voice my opinion, you and Dad dismiss it without listening to my reasoning.”
With his elbows resting at each side of his plate, my dad clasps his hands over it.
“OK, Avery. Tell us why you want to attend IU.” His voice is condescending, like I’m the stupidest girl in the world and he’s just waiting to hear my idiotic reasons.
“I’ve been solely dependent on you, having never been employed. You’ve both made every important decision in my life, and I feel it’s time I make some choices on my own. I’m going to fail as an adult if I don’t learn how to do that wisely.”
“There will be plenty of time for you to make poor choices, but as long as we’re able, we’re going to prevent it.”
“Their Kelley School of Business is highly recognized in this country, and I’d like to get their doctoral in finance.”
“What happened to medical school?” my dad barks.
“You want me to be a physician.” I point at my chest. “I have no desire to go to medical school. Science is not my thing but numbers are. Look how much better I’ve done in my math classes than all my others.”
With his elbows still on the table, Dad presses his palms to his eyes.
“I don’t know where we went wrong with you,” he mumbles.
“Wrong? Nice, Dad. I’m screwed up in every way to you, aren’t I? I’m always a failure, never measuring up.”
“Avery, that’s not what—”
“Just stop. You’ve made your disappointment known countless times.”
Shoving my chair back, I march out of the dining room and up the stairs. I slam my door and pace. I’m furious with them.
I swear if I knew they wouldn’t come up here, I’d cut myself and bleed and bleed. One day when they can’t ground me or institutionalize me, I’ll show them my scars and point out each one they were responsible for.
Chapter Twelve
Avery
“What the hell’s going on?” Blake asks as he approaches my locker before our first class.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you back last night. My parents were being stupid, so I was too angry to talk.”
“Is it true you’re not going to Daytona Beach?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, when I couldn’t reach you, I texted Carrie, and she told me about your parents catching them at the store.”
I’m shoving books I don’t need inside my locker when I turn to him.
“Why would you text Carrie?”
“I just told you why.”
“Do you text her often?”
He shrugs. “Not really. Mainly when I’m looking for you.”
“Mainly … interesting.” I slam my locker door and start walking to class.
“It’s going to suck in Florida without you. I’m so pissed at your parents.”
“That makes two of us. I swear I’m marking the days off a calendar for when I get to move out of that house.”
Blake grabs my hand.
“Avery, go to UofL with me. I bet if you told them you’ll go in exchange for living in the dorms, they’d compromise. Then, we could still be together.” He leans over to my ear. “We could study in bed together and party.”
“I’m going to IU. It’s a matter of principle at this point.”
“God, you’re as stubborn as they are,” he says through a groan. We arrive at Mr. Bradford’s classroom, so I jerk my hand away and stare inside.
I don’t want to go in, and as I stand here paralyzed, the numbness I’ve injected myself with is wearing off and allowing my emotions to take over. My palms begin to sweat, and I feel dizzy.
“What are you doing?” Blake asks as I begin to step backward.
“I think I forgot something in my locker.”
Shaking his head, he goes inside. Like my parents, he’s disgusted with me, and the only way to please any of them is to cave and be what they need me to be.
Unable to see Mr. Bradford’s face today, I turn to run and smack right into a chest. My feet fumble back, so a hand wraps around my arm to brace me. I look up, and Hayden is staring down at me.
“I’m sorry. I was leaving.”
“Why?”
“Why am I leaving?”
“Yes.”
“I–I’m not feeling well.”
“You need to go inside. Don’t let him think you’re weak.”
“Who, Blake?” I whisper before I step to the side and away from the door. He releases my arm and steps with me.
“No, not him.”
“Oh, um …”
Carrie strolls up, and her blue eyes that are hinting with humor dart from me to Hayden.
“Everything OK here?” she asks.
“Yeah, he was just asking me about a question that was on the pop quiz,” I reply with a smile before I loop my arm into hers and practically pull her into class. I can feel Hayden’s presence behind me, and lord what does he know?
***
I was proud of myself in physics. Even though I wasn’t sure it was Mr. Bradford who Hayden was speaking of, just thinking someone else had my back in there made me feel safer and less alone.
I kept my head up, and acted like Mr. Bradford was nothing more than a boring teacher. He loves to intimidate me, but at least for today, he didn’t get his wish.
I’m grabbing my gym bag from my locker when Blake shows up.
“We need to talk.”
“I have tennis, so keep it short.”
“Jesus, Avery. You know I respect that you take school and sports seriously. I’m the same way, but sometimes I wish I was a priority to you. You’re always in
your own world and so damn serious.”
Where the hell did this come from? I slam my locker.
“What’s going on?”
Looking to the ground, he shoves a hand in his jeans pocket.
“I’ve been trying with you. I really have, but we’re not close anymore.” He glances around us before staring at me. “I was hoping if we had sex it would make us close again, like when we first got together, but you won’t budge,” he whispers.
I sigh. “Get to the point.”
“You’re cold, Ave. What happened to make you closed off like this?”
I bite my lip and avert my gaze.
“I can’t tell you, and I guess that does mean we’re not close.”
He studies me as if I’m only a more confusing girl now, and I guess he’s right.
“I thought maybe something would happen between us in Florida, but now that you can’t go …”
“What is it you’re trying to say?”
“I–I think we should break up. I mean, we already agreed it’s happening in August, and since you’re not going to Florida, I want to have some fun there.”
“Meaning, you want to be able to party and be a man whore for a week.”
“Could you be a little quieter?” He looks around again. God forbid someone see the most perfect couple at school having problems.
“I’ve been patient with the virginity thing for two years, while all our friends are having sex, and I don’t know any nice way to say this, but it’s getting old.”
“I get it. You’re eighteen and don’t want to wait, but I shouldn’t have to do it if I’m not ready, and since you’re breaking up with me so you can bang a total stranger on spring break, sex obviously doesn’t mean as much to you. I agree we shouldn’t be together any longer.”
He blinks fast a few times and pulls his head back.
“You’re not upset?”
I shrug. “It’s better this way. We can still be friends, though, right?”
He furrows his brow.
“I thought you would show some emotion.”
“So, you’d rather see me devastated?”
“No, but I expected you to be upset about it. I thought we might have a chance at being together in the future, too, but your reaction leaves me thinking otherwise.”
A clipped laugh escapes me even though I didn’t mean for it to. Grasping my hip, I tilt my head.
“You thought you were going to break up with me, go screw around in Florida, and then get me back once you returned.
“I will have been so devastated to have lost you how could I possibly say no, right? Hell, you probably even thought I would put out then so you wouldn’t break my heart a second time.”
He shakes his head. “It didn’t have to be like this. If you really cared about me, you’d want to be closer to me and go to the same college. Until recently, I thought we might be together forever.”
Wow, he’s honestly hurt. His eyes are watery, so I grab hold of his hand and kiss his cheek.
“I’ve discovered that we don’t want the same things in life. We’re not as much alike as you think we are, so it’s partly why I’ve kept my wall up, and for that I’m sorry.
“You’ll always hold a piece of my heart, Blake, and I do hope you have fun in Florida, but be careful; you don’t need a disease or a baby.”
He smiles before sliding a hand around the nape of my neck. Bringing me to him, he kisses my forehead. My eyes flood with tears over the finality of what’s happening and the gentleness from him.
This is the most attentive we’ve been to each other in months, and our conversation has shown light on the mistakes I made in our relationship. I’m such a screw up.
“I thought I was breaking up with you, but it feels like the other way around,” he murmurs. “I hope we can still be friends, too.”
“Of course.” I hurry away from him before my tears spring forth. Although this made me realize I’m not in love with Blake any longer, I still care for him and will miss him. I hope it’s true we can be friends.
Coach Riley yells at me during all of tennis practice. I can’t hit a ball to save my life. I’ve been distracted since our practices began, and we start our matches the week after spring break.
“Avery, I need a word with you,” she says after we’re finished for the day. I take a drink from my bottle of water, gather my stuff at the side of the court and head over to her.
“What’s going on with you this season?” She adjusts her visor over her short chestnut hair.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted by a bunch of things, but I’ll get it together before our matches.”
“You know you can talk to me if you need to. I spoke with your dad today, and he told me he’d talk to—”
“Wait, what? Why would you do that?”
“I emailed him because I’m worried about you. Other faculty have mentioned that you’re different this school year. We’re concerned.”
Looking to the ground, I rub my forehead.
“He’s going to ground me until the end of time. Did you ever think he could be part of the problem?”
“No, since you don’t confide in me.”
“Well, I wish you would’ve spoken to me first. He and my mom expect so much from me. It’s a lot of pressure.”
“I’m sorry, Avery, but they’re your parents. I felt they needed to know.”
“You just made my life a whole lot harder.”
Before she can say more, I stomp away. My dad is going to lose it. First Mr. Bradford messaged him that I’m behind in physics, and now Coach Riley is telling him I’m not doing well.
All of spring break my parents will have me studying and doing conditioning. I’m screwed, and it’s bad enough all my friends will be having a blast in Florida.
Like so many other times, my anxiety escalates in anticipation of Dad’s phone call. He’ll be wearing disappointment like a tuxedo when he gets home, too.
My boyfriend dumped me, my teachers are talking about my failures, and now I’ll have to be lectured by my parents while my friends are driving to the beach.
I’m parking in my driveway when my phone rings. I pick it up from the seat, and as soon as I see it’s Dad, I squeeze it in my hand.
I don’t answer. I can’t do it. I stride to the front door and while I shove the key inside the lock, my phone buzzes with a text.
Dad: Don’t think of leaving tonight. We’re having a long talk. Coach Riley emailed me about your lack of performance, and Mr. Bradford even wants to tutor you over spring break.
I’m still reading the first text when another comes through.
We need to find a solution to whatever is going on with you and fast, Avery. I mean it. I’m done with you not taking your future seriously.
Slinging the front door open, I drop my bag to the floor. I hurry up the stairs and get the box cutter blade still taped beneath my nightstand drawer.
The shininess of it is like finding the most valued diamond in a mine. It’s my treasure to a sense of freedom.
I yank off my green tennis skirt and put on a pair of black satiny athletic shorts. In a hurry for relief, I leave on my white tank top and run down the stairs.
As if I’m being chased by perfection and achievement, I burst out the back door and sprint across the yard into the woods. I never stop running even though the cool air is slamming against my face.
Come back, Avery. You can’t run from us. You’ll never measure up. We all know it, but you’re going to keep pretending for everyone else. We’re so close to owning you and your pathetic existence.
Reaching the clearing, I look to the sky and scream at the top of my lungs. I can’t fight back against the expectations fast enough, so I lie flat on one of the tattered benches, with my feet dangling over the arm of it, and yank my bottoms down to right at my hair line.
Starting at the left side of my lower abdomen, way below my navel, I bury the blade the deepest I ever have and drag it a good inch and a
half horizontally farther to the left. I yelp from the pain before I take in a long breath and hold it.
Releasing the air gradually, my panic eases. I stare up at the lifeless trees above that will look vibrant soon with new green leaves. I wish I could experience new life. One that’s beautiful, vibrant and full of hope.
A few tears slide from the corners of my eyes and fall to my ears, tickling them a bit. My fingers skim over my wound before I hold them up to eye the blood dripping from them.
I hear the stomping behind me, and Hayden is standing over me before I can sit up.
“Shit, what have you done?”
Chapter Thirteen
Hayden
I had the door open to the workshop when I heard a scream coming from the woods. I ran as fast as I could and found Avery lying on the bench and covered in blood.
I think she might be in shock because her eyes are fixed on her bloody hand she’s holding above her.
Reaching over my shoulder, I grasp my black t-shirt and pull it over my head. I wad it up and press it to her wound. Avery snaps back to reality when I yank my phone out of my jeans pocket.
“No! You can’t call anyone. I’ll get in trouble.”
“You need help, Avery, and more than the physical kind. I’m calling an ambulance.” The blade she was holding in her right hand drops to her stomach, and she reaches out to grab my wrist.
“Please. I’m begging you. Don’t call anyone.”
I stare down at her, trying to think of the best move.
“I could sew it up.”
“You know how to do that?”
“Yeah … but I’m not going to. I’m not giving you a worse scar than the ones you have, and I’m not going to be responsible if you get an infection. I have an idea. Here, put your hand on my t-shirt and apply pressure while I carry you.”
“Where are we going?”
“To an urgent care clinic.”
“But if I give them my insurance card, my parents will find out.”
“Then I’ll pay them cash.”
“I can’t let you do that, and I don’t have enough money.” She’s shaking her head against my chest.
The Scars Keeper Page 8
