My mom is reading a book when I arrive home and smiles up at me when I enter.
“So, how did it go?” she asks as she sets the book down.
“It didn’t,” I say flatly as I make my way into the kitchen to grab something to eat.
She gets up and follows me in. She doesn’t say anything right away as I slam cupboards, looking for something to eat, even though I’m not hungry. She’s probably trying to choose her words carefully. She’s smart like that.
“Can I ask what happened?” she finally says as I snatch a box of cookies.
I start stuffing my face with cookies. “The same thing that always happens. I suck.”
“You don’t suck,” she assures me as she leans against the counter with her arms crossed. “In fact, you’re the least sucky death angel I know.”
“And you’re the weirdest mom ever,” I tell her as I shovel more cookies into my mouth. “You’re the only mom I know that uses words like sucky.”
“Because I’m awesome.”
“Yeah, you are.”
She smiles at that, and I can't help smiling just a little.
But my smile fades as she asks cautiously, “What did Trystan have to say about all of this?”
I shrug. “That I needed to do it. That it was important. That if I didn’t, I wouldn’t pass my flying test tomorrow and wouldn’t get into school.” I sigh as I set the box of cookies down. “Like I didn’t already know of all that.”
“I’m sure he knows you know all of that,” she says. “He’s probably just worried.”
“I know,” I tell her. “And I get that he doesn’t want to go to college alone, but he can make new friends. He’s got one of those personalities that angels love.”
Not that I won't miss him. I will a freakin' ton to the point that my chest is actually hurting right now just thinking about it.
“I think there might be more to it than him worrying about going alone and making new friends,” she informs me.
My brows dip. “Like what?”
She smiles softly. “Like he’ll miss you.”
“I know that. And I’ll miss him too. But like I said, he’ll make new friends. Plus, it’s not like we won’t ever see each other. He’ll come home to visit on holidays.” Again, my chest aches thinking about those few times I’ll see him throughout the year.
“Hmm...” my mom studies me. “I still think there may be more to it than that.”
I arch a brow at her. “Like what?”
She just smiles, pushes away from the counter, and pats my head. “One day, you’ll see,” she says, leaving the room.
Yeah, she’s definitely the weirdest mom ever.
• • •
Late that night, I’m sprawled out on my bed, flipping through the college brochure. I’m wearing pajama shorts and a tank top, which basically is like admitting defeat since tonight is the last night for me to get over this fear of trying to fly.
It’s put me in a sour mood, which is probably why my family has been avoiding me. Eventually, though, someone knocks on my door; mom or dad, I assume.
“Come in,” I call out as I turn the page.
On it are photos of the campus: sparkling trees covered with glittery flowers, the grass looks like crystal, and the building is very castle-esque. It also has photos of the inside of the classrooms, the massive library, the domed ceilings. As I look at everything, I admit to myself that I want to go. Badly. I want to walk around and breathe everything in. I want to read every book on the shelves of the library. I want to learn, fill my mind with knowledge.
But in order to do so, I have to fly.
Le sigh. Why, oh why did those angels have to throw me over the cliff that day?
Although if they hadn’t, I might not have ended up becoming best friends with Trystan. And that leaves me wondering: will our friendship survive him going off to school? Or will I end up alone?
Speaking of being alone, why didn’t the angel that knocked on my door ever come in?
I turn around and peer over my shoulder to find Trystan standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me.
My initial instinct is to ask him why he’s here. But then I remember what my mom said and remind myself that I’m not really mad at him—I’m mad at myself.
“Why are you just standing there watching me like a creeper?” My brow teases