a label with this one.” She laughs through her assessment of my love life, and I guess on most points, she’s right.
“Huh,” I respond, letting the hurt show a little.
“Hey, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” June says. We’ve reached the independent study room, but before she leaves me to step inside she softly touches my elbow and moves us to the other side of the walkway, away from the students rushing to beat the bell.
“I know, yeah. I guess I didn’t realize all of that. I mean, Hayden and I were talking, and maybe that’s what it was. We talked. We talked about the way my dad left, all of the shit I’m going through now, how he’s filing all of this crap to get his name on my company even though I’m about to be eighteen.”
I stop short of telling her the worst of it. I’m not ready to relive some things. Not until I absolutely have to.
“Abs, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how bad things have gotten with your dad,” June says, hugging me with one arm. I let her, because she’s June and she is a kind soul, but I’d rather not be a thing people have to say sorry about.
“It is what it is,” I say. That’s such a dumb, meaningless phrase, yet it’s the only thing that fits my situation. The only way my problems could go away would be with a time machine. I’d go back to being Annie and whisper in my ear: “Don’t dream big, little girl. That house of cards is mighty fragile.”
“It wasn’t all about me, though,” I continue, shaking away my own thoughts. “Hayden is having a hard time with his parents too. He feels angry, but he has no idea what to do with those feelings because he’s not really the angry type.”
I don’t go into the guilt he feels because that’s his dragon to battle. When he wants others to know everything, they will. And if he never wants that, then that’s his choice. Our relationship is built on confiding in each other, creating a space to dump our baggage and move on. It’s what gives us both peace—we are each what we need.
“No, he’s not an angry kind of guy,” June agrees. “I still remember in fourth grade when Hayden rescued the kittens underneath our grade school portable art room. His mom helped him nurse those things until they could get them adopted.”
“I remember that! I totally wanted one, but my parents said our household wasn’t the kind of place for kittens. No truer words than that!” I’m old enough now to realize a kitten would only have been one more thing for my parents to fight over.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” June slips in, bringing me back to the subject we’re actually talking about—me and Hayden.
“Thanks,” I say, the words basically an act of autopilot. I’m not sure I’m smiling right now, but the commotion of the last warning bell gets me off the hook. June rushes in, shouting something about missing lunch for an SAT meeting or something.
I ratchet up the sleeves of Hayden’s sweatshirt and make my way to my classroom, squeezing in just before the teacher shuts the door, and like a heatwave, I’m pummeled with stares. Okay, maybe I’m not really pummeled, but there are a few people near the back of the class who are definitely eyeing me in this hoodie. There’s going to be talk about it, like me dating someone is major TMZ news, but whatever.
I’m happy.
Right?
5
Tory
Hayden forgot about the SAT meeting. I remembered the moment he told Abby he’d meet her for lunch. I probably should have said something then, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I’ve got a super selfish streak, and I was planning on skipping the SAT meeting. I’m fine with the score I have. A solid nine-eighty works for the places I want to go. Besides, state schools are lenient on test scores when you drain threes like I do. I also knew Abby would skip it. She took her first test the same day I did, and she bragged about being two hundred points higher than me when our results came in. She also said she’d never take that test again.
I feel like a dick now that I’m in the moment, though. I’m clearly taking advantage of the fact my brother and all of our friends won’t be here so I can have Abby all to myself. I didn’t account