I can’t blame them for their ignorance, not when I was exactly like them, but I am frustrated by it. People, not just teens, take things at face value and don’t bother to delve further than what they can see.
Ever since my first day when I talked back to that one girl I’ve set myself apart. I plastered a target on my back for nothing more than daring to go against the social norm.
Why is that?
Why are we so incapable as human beings to sympathize with another?
It’s baffling.
The cafeteria is packed, fuller than normal, and when I look outside I see why.
It’s pouring down rain, the storm having come out of nowhere. This morning the sun was shining.
My hold tightens on my backpack straps as I look around.
Again, many eyes stare at me. It’s not a collective thing, no I’m not worth that, but I can see eyes at several different tables drift to me and away. I swear I hear snickers, but that might only be in my head, an echo of my own long ago malicious laughter.
It’s never that I was knowingly mean, just like these kids hardly ever say anything to me, but quiet judgment is just as bad as a sharp tongue.
Sometimes it’s even worse because of the assumptions you can make.
I start to turn back down the hall, figuring I’ll find a quiet place to eat on my own since there’s no chance Finn’s outside and I have no idea where he’d go on a nasty day like this, when movement catches my eye.
A grin I can’t control sets over my face as I spot Finn, Jack sitting by his feet, trying to flag me down.
My heart lurches and then begins to beat even faster as I take the needed steps to stand in front of him.
“It’s raining,” he announces.
“I noticed.” My hold on my straps loosen.
“Do you still want to eat with me?” He ducks his head, suddenly unsure and maybe a little embarrassed for flagging me down.
“Of course.”
His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink and he nods, signaling me to follow him.
I’m surprised when we reach a pair of doors down a corridor I’ve never been, but I’m pretty sure is beside the auditorium.
Finn holds up a finger to his lips. “No one knows I have this. Our secret, right?”
“Our secret,” I echo as he pulls a key out and unlocks the door.
I follow him into the darkened space and find that we’re on the stage, behind the thick curtain. He turns a light on and it illuminates the space in a dull glow.
It’s not much to eat by, but I don’t mind. There’s something intimate about it.
Finn’s steps make a dull sound across the stage and he sits down beside me, stretching his long legs in front of him.
“If there were stars on the ceiling it’d be kind of like our meadow.”
Our.
My heart latches onto that one word, cherishing it infinitely more than I’ve ever treasured a single word before.
“How do you have a key?”
“Mr. Rochester.” He gives a small, casual shrug, digging in his bag for his lunch.
Jack lies down beside him, resting his head on his paws. His brown eyes follow Finn’s movements and once he sees Finn’s brown paper bag he lets out a satisfied breath. The dog’s eyes move to me and I swear he gives me an almost appreciative look, like he’s thankful he’s not Finn’s only companion anymore.
“Why did Mr. Rochester give you a key?”
Finn shrugs, pulling an apple out and taking a bite. He chews, the crunch of the juicy apple seeming too loud in the empty auditorium.
“He knows I like my space. I can come here and … breathe.” He looks at me with questioning eyes, wondering if I understand what he’s saying.
I nod, popping a grape into my mouth. “Makes sense.”
I look around at all the equipment backstage. Wires, pulleys, and other things I have no idea what they are. I guess since I’ve joined the theatre club I’m going to grow well acquainted with this place. When I got suckered into joining by Mr. Rochester, I wasn’t sure I’d return, but the fact that Finn is a part of it makes it not half-bad. At least I don’t have to pretend to socialize with people I don’t want to know.
I grab my turkey sandwich from the Ziplock baggie and take a bite. Finn watches my movements like everything I do is absolutely fascinating. He clears his throat and fumbles in his backpack, slipping a treat to Jack.
“Why does Jack have a regular name? Why not a planet or constellation?”
“He came with the name.”
I snort, crumbs spraying from my mouth in an embarrassing manner. “That makes it sound like he’s a toy.”
Finn looks at his dog with quiet interest. “He’s my friend.”
The special bond between them is obvious. Maybe all service dogs are like that with their person, but I wouldn’t know. This is my first experience ever being close to someone who has one.
“I know he is.”
Finn gives me a soft smile. In the distance the bell rings and we wad up our trash and dispose of it in a bin. Heading out the way we came Finn locks up before we part ways.
* * *
The rest of the day drags by and the storm rages on outside. I rode my bike like always, but there’s no way I can take it home like this. I find a seat on one of the benches lining the entrance, getting ready to call my mom and ask if she can get me.
“Violet?”
My head snaps up and I look up at Finn standing in front of me. He adjusts his glasses and looks anywhere but my face.
“I thought you might want a ride home … since it’s raining … if you don’t, it’s cool, I wanted to ask.”
I smile gratefully. “That would be great. Thank you. Do you think it’s possible for me to fit my bike in the back of your car?”
He ponders my question for a moment. “I think it will.”
He follows me out and I wave him away. “Go to your car. There’s no point in you getting soaking wet too.”
“I want to help.” The rain beats down on us, and despite his rain jacket and hood—he’s definitely more prepared than I am—the ends of his hair are getting wet and water speckles his glasses.
“Okay,” I agree.
I unlock my bike from the rack and then we move at a slight jog to his car. Poor Jack only has a vest to keep him dry, but since his tongue is lolling out and he looks happy I don’t think he’s too bothered by it.
We reach Finn’s car, now completely soaked to the bone, and he unlocks it then opens the trunk.
“I’ll help you once Jack’s in.”
I wait while he lets Jack onto the backseat. It only takes a minute, not even, and I’m so chilled from the rain now I’m positive if I remove my shoes my feet will be blue.
Finn jogs back to my side.
“On three,” I tell him. “One, two, three.”
We lift together, and I nearly drop my end because I get distracted by the movement of his bicep and the long vein running down his forearm. My mouth goes dry and I know I’m staring, but I can’t help it. Finn is outrageously attractive and he has no idea what he does to me.
With mostly his help we get my bike inside and the trunk closed.
We hurry into the car and he turns it on, blasting the heat to hopefully knock off the chill.
The icy rain must be trying to remind us all that summer is over and fall is here. The unusually warm weather—for here, at least—has been much appreciated. I’m not sure this Texas girl is ready for a snowy winter. In fact, I’ve never actually seen snow. Not in person, anyway.
I shoot my mom a text, letting her know I’m getting a ride with Finn so she doesn’t worry or decide to come get me.
Finn backs out and joins the long procession of cars leaving the school grounds. Between the students, teachers, and buses, it takes thirty minutes to finally leave.
“Thank you for the ride.” I slip out of his car into the rain.
“Let me help you with your bike.” He fumbles with
his seatbelt and joins me. He ends up lifting it out himself and I grab the handlebar, letting the weight of the bike lean against me.
“Thank you again, Finn.”
He nods.
I should get out of the rain, we both should, but we don’t.
Exhaling a shaky breath I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, dangerously close to the edge of his lips.
A small gasp leaves him and I hurry away, towing my bike toward my home and garage, before I can see any sort of expression on his face. I’m mostly afraid I’ll see something I don’t want to see, like indifference, and I’ve already had my heart ripped apart from my sister’s death.
I don’t need a boy to crush the rest of it.
Chapter Sixteen
Plopping my ass down in the seat beside Finn I let out a disgruntled breath. “All anyone can talk about is homecoming.”
His brows lift and he watches me out of the side of his right eye.
Despite his silence I rant on.
“It’s homecoming this and homecoming that.” My hands gesture wildly around me. “What dress to wear, shoes, hair, makeup. It’s all so … boring.” I release a pent up breath. “I think that’s why it’s bothering me. I used to obsess over school dances and having a date, but now … well, I still want to go even though I understand there are more important things than a dance. Is that silly?”
He shakes his head. “If you want to go you should.”
“You should go with me,” I blurt, and realize I’ve basically asked him to be a date.
Actually, there’s no basically about it. That’s exactly what I’ve done.
“No.” He eyes the stage ahead, avoiding me so I can’t see his panicked expression.
“Yeah,” my shoulders deflate, “I shouldn’t go anyway. I don’t really know anyone and dances aren’t fun without friends.”
“I thought I was your friend?” His head whips up to me, eyes wide.
“You are.” I place a gentle hand on his forearm. “But you just said you didn’t want to go—ergo I would be alone.”
“Ergo, Ms. Page, pay attention,” Mr. Rochester snaps from his position on the stage.
My cheeks color at being called out.
I force my thoughts away from the school dance and focus on Mr. Rochester’s words as he discusses the play and his plans for the upcoming auditions next week.
An hour later we’re dismissed to head home and I follow Finn outside.
After the Monday rainstorm he was leaning against his car Tuesday morning, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and gave a single nod toward his car.
I took him up on the offer and we’ve ridden to and from school together every day since.
Jack sniffs at the grass and hikes up his leg on a bush. Finn and I wait for him to finish his business and continue down the sidewalk.
Leaves swirl around my feet, already turning red and orange in the late September weather. I toe my sneaker against the ground, kicking a rock out of the way.
Finn unlocks his car and I shuck off my heavy backpack, climbing in and buckling my seatbelt quickly.
Once Jack is situated in the back Finn gets in and a small grin tugs his lips when he sees I’m already buckled.
He starts the car and backs out slowly. He’s a good driver, even if at times I think my presence makes him uncomfortable.
We’re almost home when he says, “You need to try out.”
I snort. “For the play? No.” I shake my head adamantly.
His fingers flex against the steering wheel. “I-If you do, then I will too.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue. “What?”
He shrugs. “I’ve done small parts—a line here and there if it’s necessary. I’ve basically filled in for background parts Mr. Rochester needed someone for. But…” He pauses, gathering his breath, while I use every moment to form my argument on why this is a very bad idea for me. “I have nothing to lose.”
“Why?” It seems to be the only word I can form.
“It could be the start of something new—the beginning of something great. My mom always tells me not to close a door before I’ve even opened it. Maybe it’s time I start listening to her.”
I sit stunned in the passenger seat, Jack’s pants become the only thing I can hear other than the blood rushing through my head, when Finn says nothing else.
He pulls into his driveway and kills the engine. Before I can hop out and run away, he undoes his seatbelt and leans toward me. “You make me brave, Violet. I want to make you brave too.”
Staring into deep blue eyes I know there’s no way I can deny him this request.
“Fine.”
He grins triumphantly and his happy smile makes my agreement worth it. After all, theatre already isn’t that bad with his company. If we both have a bigger part, it’s more time together.
He holds up a pinky and I’m reminded of the day at the coffee shop when I hooked my pinky with his. Clearly, he hasn’t forgotten.
I wrap mine around his. “Together.” There’s uneasiness in his eyes, but a determination as well.
If Finn is willing to put himself out on a limb then I can do it too.
“Together,” I echo.
* * *
Pots banging, jazz music playing, and the scent of spices hit my nose. I toe off my sneakers and drop my backpack by the stairs, padding into the kitchen.
A smile touches my lips, watching my mom dance around the kitchen preparing dinner.
She used to do it all the time before Luna passed away. It’s something I thought I might never see again, and her simple happiness brings me joy.
I’m still grieving.
She’s still grieving.
But it doesn’t mean we’re not allowed a few moments to feel normal.
She turns around and jumps when she sees me. “Oh, Vi! I didn’t hear you come in.”
She reaches over and turns down the volume on the Bluetooth speaker.
“Just got in.” I head over to the refrigerator and open it up. My eyes scan the various food items inside—it’s always well stocked, my mom hates not having any possible ingredient she might need—and I grab a grape, tossing it into my mouth. It pops when I bite down, the sour juice hitting my tongue. I chew and swallow it, then grab a handful before bumping the door closed with my hip.
“How was your club?”
“Good.” I shrug. “What are you making? It smells yummy.”
I eye the hodgepodge of ingredients, unable to discern what they could possibly make.
“Fettuccine with red pepper alfredo sauce. I’m adding steak too.”
“Never would’ve guessed that, but it sounds delicious.”
I bite into another grape, watching her move about the kitchen. The kitchen is her happy place, where her mind is free of burdens and she can simply exist, but what’s mine? I don’t know. It used to be my friends, but I understand now depending on other people for my happiness doesn’t work. I have to find it within myself.
I like the night, I suppose. The peace and quiet of a sleeping house, with nothing but the stars and my thoughts to keep me company. Even if they’re bad thoughts, I still live for those moments when I slip onto the roof and gaze at the sky.
“Where’d you drift off to?” Mom stirs the sauce in a pan, looking at me over her shoulder.
“Just thinking.”
“How … how are you doing?” Her face is pained and I know she isn’t asking in general about my well-being.
“I’m…” I lace my fingers together, laying them on the countertop. “Coping.”
I see no other choice in the matter. I’m okay with my grief, most days anyway, it’s a reminder of my love for my sister. If I didn’t love her with all my heart and soul then I wouldn’t feel her loss like the ache of a missing limb. But I do have to cope, and I think in some strange way Finn has shown me that.
When she’s silent I ask her the same question. “How are you doing?”
“Contemplating my en
tire existence.”
Her face crumples and within a second I’m joining her around the counter and pulling her into my arms. She holds me to her, like the tighter she holds me the more grounded she’ll feel.
I miss my sister something fierce, but I can’t imagine what my parents feel losing a child. I’m not even at the age where I’m thinking about children, but even now, if I do consider my future and kids, the thought of having to bury one of them is more excruciating than I can comprehend. It’s the worst kind of torture.
“I love you.” She runs her fingers through my dark hair like she used to do when I was a little girl.
“I love you too, Mom.” I squeeze her tighter.
“I wish it didn’t hurt so much.” She lets me go and rubs the backs of her hands under her eyes. Somehow her makeup isn’t smudged from her tears.
I tilt my head to the side and shrug. “Pain deserves to be felt. If you don’t feel it, then was the love even real?”
She lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re far wiser than I was at your age, Vi.”
I snort. I’m only wiser because Luna killed herself and I had to grow up and stop being that girl who was a clueless airhead.
“We all have to grow up eventually,” I say instead. “I just had to do it sooner than most.”
I whisper the last part under my breath as I walk out of the kitchen.
Grabbing my bag, I lug the heavy sack upstairs and drop it in my desk chair. A shower is calling my name so I do just that and change into a jog bra, sweatpants, and one of my old cheer shirts. I thought about getting rid of them, but cheer was a part of me, it always will be, and I don’t want to forget the good times or the pride Luna always radiated when she came to see me.
Slipping my feet into a pair of slippers I make my way downstairs, my dad’s voice now having joined my mother’s. I pause on the bottom stair, eavesdropping on their conversation. I know I shouldn’t, but my conscience doesn’t stop me.
“You’ve been crying,” my dad’s warm voice says softly.
“Only a little.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could make all of this go away.”
“I don’t. I’d rather feel everything than nothing at all.”
Whatever Happens Page 8
