It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,77

done this. Mom. Not Dr. Jacoby. It might not have been medical malfeasance after all—it could have been Mom and her inability to take no for an answer.

Then, because the universe really wants me to suck it, the door opens again, and Julian walks in. I bury my face in my hands and just sob. This is all too much.

His hand goes on my arm. “Jenna. Are you okay? What happened?”

I’m too busy trying to turn away from him, to keep him from seeing the horror show I’ve become. My eyes are dripping, my nose is dripping, God only knows what my mouth is doing, and he’s here. Why is he here? I don’t have much time to process any of this, because he pulls me close to him and lets me cry into his shoulder.

“Hey. Shh. It’s okay.”

I can barely breathe, and he keeps holding me and rocking me and rubbing my back, which I realize is exposed to the air, since I’m in—shoot me—a hospital gown. And I smell of hospital sick. And I’m not wearing a bra, so my boobs are free beneath the gown and pressed against the boy’s chest, currently. None of this horror helps me stop crying.

Julian is holding me like this when the door opens again. Rena stands in the doorway, upset, and I wonder what the hell I’ve done to her to piss her off, too.

“Look,” she says. “I know this all sucks. I know your life sucks, but our mother is out there breaking all the way down. They are thinking of sedating her. Dad is a mess. He and Uncle Steve got in another fight. And now, the boy you blew off is taking care of you. I just can’t take it anymore.”

“What—”

“Just because you have CP doesn’t mean your life is one big telethon.” And with that, she leaves. The line I once thought was funny and sarcastic is way too real.

Rena pops back in to land the final blow. “Oh, by the way, Mom told me to tell you they’re keeping you another day.” The door shuts, and I cry harder.

Julian stares at me. “What just happened?” he asks. “Why’s Rena mad at you? What happened with your mom?”

I shake my head. No way I can get all of those words out.

Julian hands me my phone. “You can tell me later if you want. Okay?”

I nod, sniveling and trying to control my breathing.

“Let’s get you cleaned up a little. You’re kind of a mess.” But he smiles as he says it.

Before I can protest or complain or tell him I’d rather be alone, Julian hops up and heads into the bathroom. He’s back in an instant with a wet washcloth that he uses to wipe the tears off my face. He brushes my hair back off my face. “That’s better.”

I slow my breathing and look up at him. He still bears the marks from the fight, the line of stitches on his forehead above the purple bruise painted over his eye. His lip is still scabbed. What would it feel like to kiss him now? Would he make a noise if we kissed? A combination of small discomfort mixed with longing?

“Jenna,” he says, “I know you’re upset. I’m not even sure what about. So maybe the best thing, the nicest thing, would be for me to just leave you alone.”

My heart cramps. Water leaks out of my eyes.

He looks at his hands and rubs the thumb of one hand over the back of the other. “But I just want to tell you,” he says, his voice cracking, “I didn’t mean to fight those guys. It just happened.” He gives me an earnest stare. “I let them get to me.”

And this is when words finally come. “Because you were embarrassed of me.”

He stares at me like I’ve wounded him. “No, Jenna. Not that.”

“Then what?”

“I was mad at you. So mad.”

“Why?”

“Because I remember everything. I remember you. And if you liked me, why did you have to hide behind anonymous texts?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Couldn’t you see how excited I was to see you when I came back? Didn’t you think I felt the same way about you?”

“No,” I say. “No. I thought you were too good for me.”

His eyes get mad and his mouth turns down, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe what I just said. “See? That’s what I mean. I remember what you were like before, when we were kids. You were so adventurous. You always

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