Sometimes I wondered if it were possible for me to keep my mouth shut. "Why not?" I posed the question softly, more out of curiosity than accusation. "Truthfully? I don't know. Best guess is...I didn't want them to. I wanted to be angry. I felt justified in it. That one feeling hadn't failed me when my mom was sick or when she died. Every other one had." He lifted his shoulders slightly and then allowed them to fall. "Then spring break happened."I smiled. I couldn't have stopped the toothy grin even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't. I'd never regret anything about that week. He huffed through his nose, and his eyes lost focus. It was clear he was reminiscing and maybe even wishing he could go back to that place in time. "It was as though God answered a prayer and gave me a blessing all at once. Other than my mom, you are the only thing in the world that makes me truly happy...core deep."That was a heavy burden to carry, and one I wasn't equipped to hold. "Jude...""When y
I retreated to the security of my bedroom. It was eerily quiet. Jude had turned the music off or put on headphones, and I hadn't so much as heard footsteps outside my door. There had been no sign of Ernie or Hensley, either. It was as though I were the only one in the house.Curled into a ball on my bed, I picked at Woobie's knotted fur, keeping the little bear close to my face. He reminded me of Jude, and if I closed my eyes and tried hard enough, I could smell Jude's scent on him. Or maybe that was my mind's way of comforting me through the most excruciating pain I ever remembered experiencing. When my mom died and I was in protective services-before I'd been placed with the Shaws-a counselor told me that with each day that passed, the hurt would subside a little more. Even as scared as I had been, I just never missed a mother who hadn't really existed. But the fear had done the same thing the lady said the pain would do. And I got to where I longed for the sun to come up just t
For the life of me, I couldn't recall what I'd said to Ernie after Portia left my room that day. From the moment she told me to find myself, until the time I walked into Dr. Vanderhugh's office, there were only fractions of time I could clearly visualize. The same thing that had happened when I found the Beatles tribute book in Hensley's room happened again when Portia gave up on me. Only this time, I didn't have anywhere I could run.The walls had closed in as the darkness narrowed my field of vision. My chest constricted, my heart raced, and I had kept it hidden so Portia wouldn't see how truly broken I was. The slamming door sparked impending doom, and I was certain my death was imminent. Ernie's panic-stricken face was crystal clear when I got downstairs, yet how I had arrived there was a mystery. Once I had gotten out of the house, the possibility of death by suffocation waned. It might have been something Ernie had said, it could have been escaping the torture chamber, or possi
California was an adjustment. I'd only been there a few days, but the heat was a killer, and the people were different. Not in a bad way. Actually, I loved how liberal Berkeley seemed as a whole. Ethan and Carson both found menial jobs near the campus, which was within walking distance of the apartment, so I spent most of my days alone. I had met with Dr. Sarratt twice since I'd gotten here. He encouraged me to get out and walk around, see everything I could find that held any interest, and start writing. I wasn't certain I bought into the belief he had about journaling, but I committed to giving this my all. That meant playing by the rules. And I hadn't set the rules in this game.I tried to treat my notations about my excursions like a documentary on paper. When I viewed it as an exercise in evaluating my surroundings instead of my feelings, the words covered the pages. If I tried to analyze the ink on the page-zilch. It only took a couple of days before that notebook became my
"If you're so bored, why don't you get a job? I know you don't have to have the money, but it would give you something to do." Ethan had found the first semblance of a social life-Carson had, too, for that matter-when he'd become gainfully employed. I'd always heard that life after high school was totally different, and that my social status prior to college was meaningless after my senior year. I'd just found that hard to believe when the same kids who held the spotlight in high school then went on to the colleges we attended after. Yet somehow, it was true. The clicks faded, and people were generally more accepting. I wasn't experiencing it myself, but both Carson and Ethan had quickly found friends here. And Carson and Cat had even gone out on a couple of dates. He kept the details a closely guarded secret. Any minute now, he believed she'd start laughing at him with her friends, and he'd find out it had all been a big joke at his expense.I had met her once when they stopped
"What the hell are you doing?" I snatched my journal from the hands of a nosy co-worker.She shrugged and contorted her face into an expression of equal indifference. "Just wondering what you spend so much time working on."I tucked the notebook into my backpack and slammed the locker. When I turned around, Lacy wore the same unbothered look. "So, you went through my locker, dug it out, and just thought you'd have a look around my private thoughts?"Lacy pulled out a chair from the table and placed herself in it with more fanfare than called for. "We work in a bookstore. Do you know how many people here are writing the next great American novel?" She paused, waiting for my answer. When she didn't get one, she popped a grape into her mouth and continued. "All of them. Including the ones who run the place." "And how does that justify breaking and entering?" I didn't have a clue what she'd read, or how deep into my thoughts she had been able to dig. My heart lay fully exposed on
Spending Thanksgiving alone hadn't been all that bad. Christmas was torture. The Shaws sent me a box of presents, and I opened them by myself on the morning of the twenty-fifth. Somehow, they'd managed to package the scent of their home and mail it to California. As soon as I had unfolded the cardboard, the familiar smell rolled out in waves. It was the first time I'd missed home since I'd left. I'd longed for Portia, but I'd talked to Ernie and Hensley enough that their absence didn't seem any different than it had when I lived with my mom. There were times I'd go long stretches without seeing them, although not often.I hadn't been able to unwrap a single package for nearly an hour. And when I finally regained my composure, every piece of paper I tore, tape I removed, and ribbon I untied, took me further into longing. Even though I wasn't sure I was ready to go back just yet, that box convinced me that there was nothing I wanted more. With the last gift opened, I stared at the bott
Jet flew into our dorm room with her usual dramatic flair. "Mail call." Her lyrical voice tumbled into the room, and she followed. It was clear she didn't plan to stay when she left the door open, tossed a few envelopes on her desk, and held a package in my direction.I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of my bed. "What's that?"I never got mail. Everything I received went to my parents' house, and I didn't get care boxes because I went home often enough for Hensley to load me up with baked goods to tide me over for weeks.Jet snatched the thick packet back and held it against her chest like a treasure. "It's from California," she teased and then wisely handed it over.An uneasy feeling landed squarely in the pit of my stomach. Butterflies didn't flutter; vultures swarmed. I'd no sooner taken the parcel than the greedy bastards started pecking away at my insides-starting with my heart.My roomie's expression softened, and the emotion she held for me was written all over