“Everybody's saying they're yours, that he was trying to protect you.” She pauses and sniffs, running her hand under her nose and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. Ciara was raised in such a different environment from me that some of her everyday gestures seem foreign, strange. I watch as she squinches up her face like she's paying a visit to her gynecologist. Eww. Not that I've ever been to a gynecologist, but Never made it sound like she'd rather have her skin flayed from her body than go back. “Ever since that guy overdosed on heroin,” Ciara whispers the word like there's a strong possibility it could curse her, “the administration's been really crazy about that zero tolerance policy. They dismissed a student last month for having a bottle of Vicodin fall out of her purse.”
I just stare at Ciara for a moment before sighing and taking another drink of water. I'm worried but after sleeping off the initial surge of emotion, I'm not that worried. I mean, it was my first offense, and Tobias did hit me back. Plus, the drugs were his. They were his. I saw in his eyes last night that he means to tell the truth.
“It'll be okay,” I tell Ciara, even though she looks doubtful. “Everything's going to be just fine.”
I try really, really hard to believe that.
4
My heart is beating so fast, I feel like I'm going to pass out.
This can't be happening.
I lean over as my stomach clenches tight, threatening to force my meager breakfast up and out, onto the sidewalk in front of a steady stream of students. I refuse. I can't. I won't. I won't let them see me cry or shake or throw up. I don't even have to look up to know that they're all staring at me, judging me. Everybody knows who I am. Tobias Underwood's girlfriend. That's it. The only name I've made for myself since I got here, since I applied to a university my family never would've been able to afford, since I got scholarships and federal aid.
Gone.
It's all gone now, and my mind is reeling. I spent all day Saturday and Sunday trying to convince myself that I didn't need to worry, that justice would prevail. But I knew better. I did. I scoured the Internet searching for cases like mine, students who had gotten into fights or gotten caught with drugs on campus. The overall opinion seemed to be that dismissal – I guess expelled wasn't the right word – was rare in these kinds of cases, that I'd be given a written warning and nothing more.
But somebody had to pay, somebody had to go down for what took place on that field. It certainly couldn't have been Tobias Underwood, the boy on his way to being drafted by the NFL. Oh no. No. But a piece of white trash from Mississippi? Oh yeah. Send her ass home.
I swallow back the bile that's threatening to spill from my throat, forcing my body into an upright position and locking my spine in place. If I'm going to take the walk of shame, I'm going to do it with dignity.
I thought he'd stand up for me, that he'd tell the truth.
According to the administration, the drugs were mine. I brought them to the field in the jacket, therefore they belonged to me. In fact, it was insinuated I may even have been attempting to bring Tobias down out of jealousy. And the fight? Well, everyone saw me take the first swing and connect my fist with his left eye. Did it matter that he hit me back? Nope. Not at all.
I put one foot in front of the other, slowly. Oh so slowly. I can't move any faster than this or I'll stumble, fall to my knees and cry. I wish there was somebody around to hold me, to take me in their arms and brush my hair back, tell me everything's going to be okay.
Noah would.
I hate that his name pops into my mind whenever I'm upset. Or happy. Or stressed. Or tired. Just always. I guess when you fall in love with your sister's ex, you have to expect some certain amount of angst, but this overwhelming obsession? I could do without it.
I march back to my dorm, the campus blurring around me in swirls of color, like an impressionist painting. I can make out objects and faces around me, but none of the lines are straight or precise. Everything is fuzzy around the edges, faded. I feel like I'm going to pass out.
I put my hand up to my forehead, pressing my fingers into my skull hard enough to bruise bone.
“Beth is going to fucking kill me.” I say the words aloud, talking to myself as I push through the door of my dorm building. Luckily, most people are taking their finals right now, so there aren't any familiar faces around to ask me what's wrong, to show sympathy once they find out that I've been banished. I'm being tossed out the gates of the castle without so much as a wave or a hollered goodbye. I might as well be a sword wielding traitor, mercilessly thrown out after a failed attempt to kill the king. That's how serious the dean's face was when he folded his hands atop his expensive mahogany desk and laid down the heavy pall of fate on my shoulders.
I can barely make it up the stairs.
When I do, I stumble into my dorm room and slam the door, making sure it's locked before I collapse to the floor in a blubbering puddle. The tears come first, streaming down my cheeks and plopping on the gray carpet. Then the sounds, the wailing and the whimpering and all the other noises that I try so hard to fight back but can't. After that, comes the shaking, the quivers that ripple across my skin like I've got a physical ailment.
“Beth is going to freak.” I say it aloud again because I know it's true. There's no way I can hide this from my family. I think about it for awhile, think about packing my shit into my car and driving into the city, seeing if I could wrangle up a job and get an apartment. Nobody has to know about this. Nobody has to know about my shame. My failure. I think about all the money Beth's been sending me. Anytime I need something – a calculator, gas for my car, a new jacket – she gets it for me. Even though she can't afford it. And all the extra? The stuff she told me to put away in case of an emergency? I spent it on booze and parties and trips to the coast. Shit. Shit. Shit.
As if she can sense my distress, Beth chooses that exact moment to call, sending my pink phone into a buzzing fury that makes me grit my teeth and start to hyperventilate. No. I can't do this. I can't talk to her. Not right now.
I sit up and sniffle, rubbing at my nose with the long sleeve of my university sweatshirt. Actually, this one's a little big for me, meaning it's Tobias'. Maybe I should go scope out the plaza near the cafeteria and pick up some more coke? Stick it in the pocket and plant this fucking thing in his dorm room? I should. He'd deserve it.
“That lying son of a bitch,” I snarl through the tears. It's not just the pain of losing fucking everything that's cutting me down, making me wish I were dead, that I were anyone in my family but me. Even with the Regali curse weighing down on my shoulders, I felt like I could do better than this. But the hurt I'm feeling is being compounded over a hundred times, being blown up in the eyes of a magnifying glass, by Tobias' blatant betrayal. He came to me, to tell me about what his coach had been saying. I saw it in his eyes, that he was a good person, that he was going to tell the truth.
I growl a string of unintelligible curses under my breath and force myself to my feet. My phone is sitting on the edge of my desk, so I grab it and plop down on the end of the bed, my finger hovering over the screen. Today's the last day of finals before the winter break, and I was planning on leaving tomorrow for home anyway. So maybe … just maybe, I can get through this without anybody finding out what happened. Yet.
A plan starts to formulate, based on desperation and the nagging ghost of futility. It's not a very good plan, but my mind grasps at it, the thoughts sliding through my fingers like grains of sand. I have a feeling that I'll look back at this moment later with a sad sense of amusement, the ghost of a smile hovering around my lips. This is ridiculous. But when you're wrapped up in your own problems, drowning in the most terrifying but basic idea of what next, your brain will do almost anything to wrap it all up in a neat and tidy little bow.
I will go home as planned. Go to the cabin. See my family. And then I'll just stay. Like Never did when she went to New York. She just never went back to California. Nobody ever questioned whether or not sh
e'd left of her own volition. I don't have to carry this shame, this cloak of persecution back with me. I don't know if I could live with the look in Beth's eyes, how disappointed she'd be. Or maybe it's even worse than that. Maybe the person I'm afraid to look at is the one staring back at me from the mirror, a girl with hazel eyes and brunette curls that used to be colored like copper? Maybe the person I'm most afraid of is myself?
I swallow hard and take a deep breath. Even though I know this isn't a real solution, that I've still been screwed over, that I'm still fucked, it makes me feel better. I'll go home, enjoy the holidays, and then figure this crap out. In the back of my mind, I see Noah Scott riding in on a white horse to save me, scooping me up in his arms and turning my life into a fairytale book where I'm never afraid to turn the page.
The thing is, I know that that's true in a sense. Noah is kind and gentle and always knows the right words to say. He's smart and talented and rich. And gorgeous, don't forget gorgeous. But he's still in love with my sister, Never, the one who ran away and then came back. Even though I'm jealous, even though I see her reflected back in Noah's eyes whenever he looks at me, I don't hate her. In fact, I feel closer to her than I do any of the others, even Beth. Beth is essentially my mother, and you can't tell mom everything.
I take another breath, bringing my heart rate down to a more reasonable level. On the plus side, this whole incident has taken my mind away from all the stresses that come with going home. There's the usual drama with Jade, the conflict between Beth and my mother, two new babies. And worst of all, I have to sit at a table with Noah Scott and stare into his blue eyes, eyes filled with love for me, and I have to tell him no. I have to because although he loves me, I'm afraid he'll never be in love with me.
I run my fingers through my hair, scroll through my contacts, and pause on Never's name. I'm still getting used to having her back, but I know she's been through deep shit, shit she won't even talk about in great detail. Never knows what it's like to fail, what it's like to be betrayed … My heart clenches tight in my chest, and I almost choke. I can't think about that right now. That's in the past. Right now, I need to worry about the present. Once things calm down, I'll start thinking about the future.
I hit the call button.
As soon as I hear my sister answer, I start to speak. I don't even give her the chance to say hello. I have a feeling that if she does, I might freak out, might reconsider confessing the truth to even a single soul. But I have to. I have to tell somebody. Somebody that can either confirm that what I'm doing is okay, or convince me that what I'm doing is wrong.
“Never,” I say, voice low and full of shame. “I think I'm in trouble.”
5
“Are you fucking insane?” I can tell Never's upset, but she's talking to me like a person, like a friend, and not like a child. This is exactly the reason I called her. It's both mortifying and satisfying to tell someone about what happened. I hear some screaming in the background, some shuffling. That's life back at the Regali household. During the daylight hours, peace is nearly impossible to come by.
I shift my phone to the other ear and throw my entire body against the last box of stuff I have to jam into the backseat. I don't think about what I'm doing or why. I definitely don't think about Tobias Underwood or Noah Scott.
Chills break out along my skin, teasing my flesh with painful goose bumps. I'm a failure. I swallow back the thought and slam the back door.
As soon as Never picked up, the story spilled out of me and into her. I think she came this close to driving down here and beating the crap out of Tobias. And the dean. And probably my roommate, Ciara, too. She ended up asking if she could take a moment and call me back. By the time she did, I had all of my crap thrown into bags and boxes that I scavenged from the recycling bin out back. There's no point in sticking around here. If I see Tobias … oh God. The universe does not want to know what I'll do if I see his face, especially if he's got Lisebeth on one arm and a smirk crawling across his lips.
“How … how did this happen?” she asks, like she's delving too far into her own psyche. I pause and look around, at the swathes of green grass that frame the sidewalks, the long rectangular boxes filled with flowers, the sapling trees lining the walkway up to my dorm. I'm going to miss this place. My heart contracts, and I take a big breath, like I'm drowning.
“Happen? Never, I made bad choices. That's it. All there is to it. My biggest mistake was trusting Tobias Underwood.” My right hand squeezes so tight that I yelp when my nails cut into my palm. On the other end of the line, I hear Never sigh. I feel a little bad for calling her, considering everything she's going through. A new baby, a new husband, deciding to move back home. Now I know from experience how daunting that thought is, and I'm not even there yet. “I'm sorry, Nev. I'm not trying to stress you out or anything. This isn't your problem, I know.”
“Shut up, Zella,” she says, and my blood chills. She sounds just like she did when I was fourteen and she was sixteen – the Goddess in my world. Out of all my older sisters, Never was always my favorite. She had this carefree, fuck the world sort of an attitude that I've been trying to imitate since the moment I woke up and she was gone, leaving Noah Scott confused and devastated. I will never forget that morning, the look on his face, the emptiness in his blue eyes.
My own eyes tear up and I find myself leaning my forearm against the hood of the car and trying to breathe. I have to get the fuck out of here before somebody sees me.
“Your problems are my problems. You're my sister.” She says the word like it's sacred and my heart swells with love at the same moment my eyes blur with tears. I don't mean to dump my shit on her. I know she's had a way worse time of it than I have, but I need somebody and right now, I have no one.
“Never,” I sob, feeling my body start to shake, to quiver, to break down again. “Never, I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea how I let things get so bad. The first time Tobias hit me, I should've walked away, but I didn't. I hit him right back and for two years we, we … ” My mind blanks and all I can do is think of one of Noah Scott's poems. We danced the dance of endless plight. Ugh. I force myself to stand up, to spin in a slow circle and take it all in. The tan and gray buildings, the blue flags with black horses, the massive cursive U that's emblazoned across everything. My throat gets tight, and I can't seem to force anymore words out.
“What about Noah?” Never asks softly, gently, the sound of her voice liable to drop me to my knees. I just want somebody to put their arms around me and tell me everything's going to be okay. Does that make me a selfish person? A weak person? I have no idea.
“What about him?” My voice cracks so bad when I ask that question. Nobody would be fooled by that desperation and longing laced throughout my words. I run a hand through my brunette curls, letting them tangle up in my fingers. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me the clock tower in the center of the plaza. I'm really pushing it. If I don't hurry up, I will see somebody I know, and the story of my shame will be complete.
“I thought you were … ” The words in love with him hang heavy between us. “I thought you were into him?” Never asks me, and I can tell she's a little confused. To be quite frank, so am I. Why can't I just accept that I'm Noah's second choice and deal with it. That pain would be nothing compared to the gaping hole in my heart I feel every time I look at him and tell myself he can't be mine. He could be. He would, if I let him. At least, I think so. I do my absolute best not to think of our one night stand, how good his body felt inside of mine. I sigh against the phone, my lashes fluttering, and then realize who it is that I'm talking to. A blush creeps up the back of my neck, but nobody's there to see it, thank God.
“Noah doesn't want me, Never,” I tell her, deciding the truth is better than any lie. “He wants you.” I hear movement over the phone and wonder what she's doing, where she's going, if Noah's there. When she sighs again, she sounds tired, worn-out. I hope that's not entirely my doing. “But that doesn't matter right no
w,” I say, even though I know that's not true. Everything that happens to me is inexorably tied up with everything that happens back there. At home. I try not to sigh. If I do, it'll sound much the same as Never's, and I don't want her to worry too much. “Are you okay?” I ask, because I sense there are other things going on besides the obvious. She pauses for a moment too long, long enough that I know she has something to tell me.
“I'm fine, Zella. Just tired is all.” She pauses, and I can imagine her hazel eyes narrowing in thought as she tries to figure out if this is the right time to bring whatever it is up. “How long is the drive here again?”
A sad smile slides across my lips as I open the driver's side door and pause there, gazing up at the bright blue sky above me. It's clear right now, but the air is crisp, with a coldness that promises winter has not been forgotten, not even down here in the South.
“Long,” I say, forcing the smile to stay frozen on my lips. I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from asking Never to stay on the phone with me, to keep me company until I get back home. Just the idea of sitting alone in this car with my thoughts for hours upon end is making me crazy. “Ten hours, I think. I'll use the GPS on my phone.”
I start to duck inside the white sedan that Noah helped me buy – loaning me the down payment only because I refused to accept the entire car as a gift – when I see Tobias Underwood jogging full speed down the walkway towards me. I bet he tried to call, too, but I blocked his number while I was waiting for Never to call me back.
Never Let Go Page 2
