“Okay.” I smile up at him, watching as he passes and turns at the end of the hall.
Gathering up my stuff, I move into his office and finish my lunch, disposing of the trash in the bin in the corner.
He returns, leaving a trail of his cologne in his wake, an even larger stack of papers in his hands than before. He lays them on his desk, sticking his stapler on top, and grabs his chair, pulling it out from behind the desk before sitting down. He lets out a deep breath once he does and smiles.
“Other than lunch how has your day been?”
“Uneventful. Dull. Boring. Should I continue?” I joke, rubbing my left hand on the rough fabric covering the loveseat.
“No,” he grins, chuckling lightly, “I think I got the gist.” His blue eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky. I’m fascinated by his blue hues. They’re the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen and such a unique color.
“No contacts today.”
He looks confused for a second before he reaches up and feels his glasses. “Oh, yeah. My eyes were bothering me.” He leans back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he studies me. Normally when someone looks at me the way he is I feel like some rare specimen being inspected beneath a microscope—something to be studied, probed, figured out like an alien from another world. But I don’t feel that way at all this time. There’s something slightly different in the way he studies me, a warmth, like there’s some part of him that feels the deep-seated ache and pain living inside me and he wants to thaw it. “What would make your day better?”
“Huh?” I’m taken by surprise with his question.
“You said school is dull and boring for you. What would make it better?”
I look out the window like I always do when I need a moment to gather my thoughts. It’s like a part of me thinks that all the answers I need are out there and I just have to spot them, take them, and give them to him.
“I don’t know.” I shiver with fear, a fear that’s rooted into the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
When I finally have the courage to draw my eyes back to his, they’re soft, looking at me not with pity but understanding.
“It’s okay not to know.”
“I’m scared about what comes after,” I admit, nibbling my bottom lip. “What happens when I leave here? The real world isn’t a forgiving place.”
“This is the real world too, Dani.”
“I know, but school feels like a small isolated space compared to what’s out there. I used to think I knew where I fit into things, what my role was, I don’t know anything anymore. That’s something that was taken from me that day.”
He doesn’t ask which day. He knows.
He taps his finger against his lips. There’s still no pity in his eyes, which I’m thankful for. I don’t want to be pitied, I want to be understood.
“I don’t know what makes me happy.” I tug on the sleeve of my shirt, rubbing the fabric between my thumb and forefinger. “I know we can’t be happy all the time, that’s impossible, but…”
“But what?” he prompts when I grow quiet for too long.
Exhaling a breath, I lift my shoulders, letting them fall. “I don’t want to exist, I want to live. That’s all I’ve been doing since it happened. Existing, not living.” My throat grows thick and I hold my breath, damming back my tears. I don’t want to cry. I want to be strong.
“And you think you have to be happy to be living?”
I angle my head. “Don’t you? If you’re not happy, aren’t you merely wandering through life? You’re there, but you’re not there, if you know what I mean.” I pause, rubbing my lips together. “Forget it, I’m probably not making any sense.”
“No, I hear what you’re saying. Do you…” He clears his throat and leans forward, clasping his hands together. His twin azure blue pools stare deep into my soul, seeing everything. “Do you want to talk about that day, Dani?”
My heart speeds up at his question.
Do I want to talk about that day? Do I want to relive that nightmare?
I feel my body lock up, all the tension freezing my muscles.
“Dani?” His voice seems to echo as if he’s down a long hall. “Are you okay?”
I close my eyes, clenching my fists as I try to block out the memories. The eerie silence punctuated by pops and random screams. Fear coating my tongue like some sticky syrup I couldn’t swallow.
Too much. It’s all too much.
“Dani?”
His hand touches mine and it sends sparks all the way up my arm.
I grab my backpack, pushing past him and out the door.
I run down the hall, his steps echoing after mine. I dash into the first place I can find that I know he won’t follow—the girls bathroom.
I push inside and into a stall. My backpack falls off my arm onto the floor and I close the toilet lid. Sitting down I draw my legs up to my chest. Tears burn my eyes and I sniffle.
He knocks on the door, still saying my name.
“Dani.”
His voice is near, too near.
I look up and through blurry eyes find him standing in front of the stall since I didn’t bother to lock it.
“Dani,” he breathes my name with worry. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. He steps fully into the stall in front of me. His large frame is overwhelming and blocks the view of the restroom. “I’ve got you.”
He crouches down and wraps his big strong arms around my small body.
“I’ve got you, Dani,” he repeats, holding me together.
I sniffle into his shirt.
He holds me tight and I close my eyes.
I silently wish he could hold me like this forever, his arms the glue for all my broken pieces.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Meadows! Wait, up!” I glance over my shoulder to find Ansel jogging after me. He comes to a stop beside me, exhaling a soft chuckle. “I told you I would take you home today. We have to get costumes. Did you forget?”
I press a hand to my head. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I did forget. I have a headache.”
I don’t actually, but I do feel exhausted. All I want to do is go home and crawl into my bed.
“Well, fuck.” His shoulders sag. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, canting his head to the side. “I can still take you home. It’ll be faster.”
“You really don’t have to.” I look away from him. It hurts to look into his carefree genuine smiling face when I feel the way I do.
“It’s not a big deal, Meadows.” He takes my hand, tugging me toward the student lot. I know if I said a flat out no, he’d let me catch the bus, but frankly I don’t want to be alone. Not that I’d be alone on a bus, per se, but I don’t know those people.
Ansel opens the passenger door for me and I set my backpack between my feet.
He gets in the car, the engine rattling to life. He doesn’t back out right away. He turns slowly to face me, his face etched with concern.
“Are you okay?”
His question catches me off guard, for some reason I’m not expecting it.
“Of course I’m okay.” The words splutter out of me in disbelief, like I can’t believe he’d think I’m not okay.
“Meadows,” he voices my name softly and takes my hand gently in his, “at the risk of being punched in the face, you don’t look or sound okay.”
It’s like his words break me and I burst into tears. They flood out of me, soaking my cheeks, and poor Ansel looks shocked.
“Fuck, do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No, not here.”
“Where?”
“Take me home, please.” My voice cracks and I wipe madly at my wet cheeks, trying to dry up the evidence of my pain and suffering. It’s like subconsciously I think if I can hide it then it doesn’t exist.
Ansel backs out of the parking spot and gets in the line to exit the school lot.
It feels like it takes a whole week before he parks at the condo.
We head upstairs in silence as I ponder how I explain this—do I lie or give him the truth?
A lie would be easier, but also messy, and Ansel feels like a true friend. I shouldn’t lie to him. But the truth is scary.
I unlock the door and step inside, waiting for Ansel to join me. He looks around uneasily.
“Your brother isn’t home is he?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. He works late. He won’t be home for hours. Scared of him?”
He swallows. “No, not at all.” His voice squeaks.
Putting off the inevitable, I open the fridge and pull out two water bottles. I toss one at Ansel. He catches it easily.
He unscrews the top and takes a sip before facing me. I still haven’t left the kitchen, keeping the bar as a barrier between us. I’m not afraid of Ansel, but I am afraid of myself.
“What is it, Meadows? You’re acting funny and you seem really upset.”
I squeeze the water bottle a little too tight and the plastic protests, making an ungodly noise.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
My head shoots up and I let out a disbelieving laugh. “No, not pregnant.”
Ansel paces a bit, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I must be taking too long because after a bit he says, “You don’t have to tell me. Whatever it is … I wouldn’t force you to share anything with me that you don’t want to. Seriously, tell me to go and I will.”
His pale blue eyes ring with sincerity. I believe one hundred percent that he’d walk out this door right now if I asked him to.
Leaving the water bottle on the counter, I move into the living room and sit on the couch. I pat the space beside me and Ansel sits down.
Like earlier today, I rub my fingers against the sleeve of my shirt.
“You know I live with my brother…”
“Yeah?” He angles his head, wondering where I’m going with this.
“Our dad passed away from cancer when we were younger—”
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Meadows.”
I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “That’s not the worst of it.”
He quiets, sitting back slightly and squaring his shoulders like he’s preparing for some sort of battle. I wish I could use him as a shield, but no one and nothing can protect me from the memories. I have to fight them on my own.
“I moved here from the Portland area to live with Sage, because…” I close my eyes. I need to rip it off like a Band-Aid, put it all out there. “There … there was a shooting at my old school.”
His lips part and I see he’s racking his brain, probably remembering nearly a year ago when it was all over the news for a few days. He wets his lips with his tongue, his eyes sad and haunted, probably imagining what that day felt like for me.
“My mom worked at the school. She didn’t make it. A lot of people didn’t make it.” I lean against the side of the couch, my body suddenly too heavy to hold up.
He places his hand over mine.
“Dani—” I shake my head, quieting him.
“It was pure evil in its rawest form. I’ve … I’ve never known fear like that. I don’t want to go into details about that day or how I feel about it, but that’s … that’s why I do certain things the way I do. It’s why sometimes I act funny or get upset for no reason. I hate rooms with no windows and the cafeteria,” I swallow thickly, “I don’t want to be in there any longer than I have to.”
“Why?” As soon as the question leaves him he looks apologetic, but doesn’t take it back.
“Because that’s where I was when I was shot.”
Ansel flinches, his pallor paling a few shades. “Fuck, Meadows. I—”
I hold my hands up, silencing him once more. “Seriously, Ansel, I don’t want to hear apologies and I don’t want to talk about it any further than this right now. Maybe one day, but not now,” I plead quietly with him. I feel the tears beginning to sting my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. Crying has gotten me nowhere.
His lips thin like he’s holding himself back from saying something. Finally, he nods, his eyes soft and understanding.
“Please, don’t tell Sasha. Don’t tell anyone,” I beg.
If people know I’ll have to deal with the stares, the whispers, and I know I’m too fragile to handle it. I’m only so strong.
“I won’t, but…”
I glare at him.
“You should tell Sasha.”
“Sasha is a blabber mouth.” I stare him down, waiting for him to protest.
He doesn’t. “Yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean as your friend she doesn’t deserve to know.”
“Maybe one day.” It’s the most agreement he’ll get from me.
“Thank you for telling me.”
I know he means it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Somehow, I find myself agreeing to the whole Halloween party thing, which means the next day Ansel and I go on the hunt for costumes. I honestly don’t see the point in dressing up, but both Ansel and Sasha insist it’s a must. Why can’t I wear sweatpants and a pizza stained shirt and call myself a college student studying for finals? Seems legit to me, and comfortable.
Ansel parks outside the pop-up Halloween store. I follow him inside, my eyes immediately assaulted with flashing lights, giant inflatables, and purple and orange twinkle lights.
“Costumes are this way.”
I follow Ansel to the back of the right side of the store. There are plenty of options, but they all look so basic to me.
I hold out a Sexy Unicorn costume and raise my brow, turning around the plastic bag to show it to Ansel. “Seriously?”
“That’s terrible. There’s a sexy costume for everything though. Want to be a toaster? There’s a sexy version somewhere.” He winks at me and I hang the garment bag back up. No chance am I going as a Sexy Unicorn.
The store has plenty of things to choose from, but nothing captures my interest.
Ansel finds a couple options, but nothing he loves. We both end up leaving empty handed.
We make a couple more stops, all without any luck. It makes sense with Halloween only two days away, but I can tell Ansel is irritated.
“I guess we’ll have to improvise and make our own costumes.” I buckle the seatbelt when we get back in the car from the last Halloween store he wanted to check.
“That’s not a bad idea, Meadows,” he muses, starting the car. “I can probably make something work.”
“I think I can too.”
“Sweet.” He holds out his fist for me to bump mine against.
We make one last stop at Watchtower for drinks before he drops me off.
“If your brother’s home, don’t tell him you were with me,” are his parting words as I get out, dragging my backpack behind me.
I shake my head at him. “Sage wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
He points a finger at me. “Lies!”
I close the door and he drives off. Heading inside, I adjust my backpack on my shoulder, crossing the lobby. I wait for the elevator and head up, surprised to find Sage already home.
“You’re home early.” I kick the door closed, since my hands are full and then set my stuff down so I can lock it.
“Not much.”
I look at the clock on the microwave and realize he’s right—I’m home later than I thought.
“Where were you?” he asks, his tone accusatory.
“Looking for a Halloween costume.”
“Are you going trick-or-treating? Aren’t you a little old?”
I roll my eyes and start heading back to my room. “It’s for a Halloween party.”
“A party?” he repeats like this is some sort of foreign concept.
“Mhmm,” I hum.
His eyes hone in on the cup in my hand. “Ansel drove you home.”
“Yup.” I’m not trying to piss him off, but he’s been so funny about Ansel that I don’t know what else to say. I’m not going to stop being friends with him because Sage has a problem with it.
Especially when that problem is specifically about the fact Ansel has a penis.
He grunts in reply. “Where’s this party going to be at?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Anger rages in his eyes and I’m sure he’s picturing Ansel and I alone somewhere. “Sasha is going too, and a couple other people I know.”
That seems to calm him down some. “I don’t want you out all night,” he warns. “You’ll be home by midnight.”
“I was actually going to stay the night with Sasha.”
His lips twist, trying to gauge whether or not I’m lying.
“Fine.” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “But text and let me know when you’re at her place after the party.”
“I will.”
Sasha asked me today at lunch if I would want to sleepover. I don’t, not really anyway, but decided it would be a good idea if I end up drinking some.
Sage finally backs away, blowing out a breath. “I’m going to order dinner.”
I leave him be and go to my room. I drop my backpack on the floor, kicking off my shoes. Digging through my bag I pull out my homework and sit at the desk near my bed. I usually do homework on my bed, but I feel the need to mix it up today.
In the hallway I hear Sage ordering dinner and can’t help but laugh to myself. Our lone cooking class did us a lot of good.
By the time I’m done with my homework our food arrives and we sit down on the couch together to eat.
“You are okay with me going to the Halloween party, right?” I voice when I feel like Sage has been quiet for too long.
He looks over at me, studying my face. He inhales a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I’m not happy about it, but only because I worry about you. But you’re eighteen, this is your senior year, and…” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “After last year, I want to see you live your life. It wouldn’t be right for me to prevent you from doing that.”
Setting my plate of food on the coffee table, I give him a sideways hug and kiss his cheek.
“I love you.”
I really do. I know I’m incredibly lucky to have a brother like him.
“I love you, too, D.”
He kisses my forehead and we exchange a look, only one the two of us can have, because as siblings who have been through the hell we have, it’s cemented a special bond.
Sweet Dandelion Page 13
