Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,59
twenty-minute drive only takes me ten. I swerve into Marisa’s driveway just as the sky opens even more. Thunder crackles with the roaring wind, and I’m soaked in the few seconds it takes to sprint to her porch. My clothes cling to my skin as I ring the doorbell. No answer. I ring it again and again and again. I even bang on the screen door for good measure.
The door finally swings open, and Mrs. Marlowe stares at me, not seeming surprised at all that I was maybe ten seconds away from kicking down the door. “Yes, Austin?” she asks.
“Marisa,” I say on an exhale. “Can I see her?” She looks like she’s about to argue, so I add, “Please, Mrs. Marlowe. I’m goin’ crazy here. I haven’t talked to her since yesterday, and even then she was all down in the dumps and upset, and when Momma told me she was sick I panicked and drove all the way out here because I’m scared shitless—sorry, crapless—and I need to see for myself that she’s okay. Please let me see that she’s okay.”
And now she looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t know if it’s my fault or what. Things have a tendency to be my fault, so my money’s on that. She glances over her shoulder toward the stairs and steps to the side. I nearly run into her as I rush through the doorway into the quiet house. The silence is way too loud.
“She’s up in her room,” Mrs. Marlowe says. “She’s had one of her rough days. I’ve been checking on her off and on, and all I’ve gotten are one-word answers.” She rubs her forehead. “But at least she’s answering.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “So—so sick was code for—”
“Sick,” she finishes quietly. “Go on up. I’ll be outside if you need anything. I need some fresh air.”
Without another word, I barrel up the stairs, my steps sounding like a herd of elephants. Stopping in front of her closed door, I knock gently. I’d rather break the door down to get to her, but I don’t think that’d go over well.
“Marisa,” I call out. “It’s me. Can you open the door?”
I’m met with nothing but silence, except for the blood pounding in my ears and the rain hammering against the roof. The dread in my gut is a level I’ve never felt before. It’s terrifying as hell.
Screw it.
I turn the knob, push, and get nothing. I narrow my eyes. There’s no lock on her door. She’s not allowed to have a lock on her door, so why? I try again and it won’t freakin’ open, damn it. She’s got to have something pushed against it.
I bang on the door again. “Marisa! I’m beggin’ you, girl, open the door.”
There’s shuffling, and the door opens just a crack. I shove it open all the way. Slowly, I step inside the dim room, illuminated only by the lamp on Marisa’s nightstand. It’s cold in here. Freezing, actually. Dressed in black pajama pants and my hoodie, Marisa paces in front of me, chewing on her nail with her eyes trained on the floor, where clothes and books are scattered everywhere.
“Marisa?”
She stops mid-stride, looking up at me with a gaze so broken, it breaks my heart right along with it. I inch forward, almost like I’m approaching a deer or rabbit or something, and I hate myself for comparing her to an animal, for Christ’s sake.
I reach for her hand, but she jerks away. “You need to go,” she snaps.
Her words are daggers. I don’t know if I did something wrong, but if I did, she needs to tell me. Preferably now, before I crumble to bits. “Marisa, what’s goin’ on?”
Chewing on that nail again, she resumes pacing. “It’s nothing,” she says. “Nothing. I’m having a really bad day, and I want to be alone right now. Need. I need to be alone right now.”
“Please don’t shut me out.” She stops again but says nothing, so I continue. “If there’s something you need to talk about, tell me. If I did something, tell me. Whatever’s wrong, please just tell me. Don’t push me away.”
Her eyes finally flicker back to mine. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I just don’t want you to see me like this, okay? All I need is a night of decent sleep, and I’ll be good as new tomorrow. I swear. Trust me on this.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she shouts. “Stop