My pupil has disappeared into skinny air.
I stand rooted in place, ice chilly sweat trickling down my again.
Identical to that, I’ve misplaced her.
9
Lane
It’s infantile to run away from my issues, I do know. Infantile to rush away from Ambrose’s calls, refusing to have an grownup dialog about the truth that he simply tore out my coronary heart and trampled it. And infantile to wander into Kephart city and tempo the streets for hours, wandering out and in of e book outlets and thrift shops with out shopping for a single factor, simply determined to maintain my physique transferring and my ideas away from campus.
That is probablyexactlywhat my mother and father would count on of me. Oh, Lane? Crushing on her tutor then falling aside when he doesn’t need her? After all she’d buy groceries to really feel higher! She has extra footwear than mind cells!
Bleurgh.
My cellphone retains buzzing within the backside of my backpack, vibrating in opposition to the bottom of my backbone, however I ignore it. I don’t want any stern welfare checks from Ambrose Brent, as a result of he made his place fully clear.
This was turning into a distraction.
If solely, motherfucker! If. Solely.
If I’d haunted Ambrose Brent’s ideas half as a lot as he haunted mine this week, he would by no means have known as issues off so simply.
Garments hangers slide over the rail as I browse in a 3rd thrift retailer, metallic clinking, and I barely register the comb of cloth beneath my fingers. That is simply one thing to do with my palms; someplace to level my eyeballs whereas my insides disintegrate. The shop smells like mud bunnies and gingerbread, and it’s stuffy and heat, however a minimum of it’s removed from campus.
From Ambrose.
“Searching for a present?” a white-haired older girl calls to me from the checkout stand, her eyes crinkling kindly behind her glasses. She cocks her head, expectant.
I look down. I’m within the males’s part, flicking by means of lumberjack shirts.
Superior.
“Searching for me, really,” I inform the lady, hooking one arm like I’m flexing my non-existent bicep. “Fascinated with working into the woods to turn into a lumberjane.”
She clucks with amusement, however now that I say it out loud, that plan just isn’t half dangerous.
Certain, I’ve zero higher physique power and get terrible hay fever in the summertime. Certain, I’m frightened of bugs and peculiar noises at evening. However I may completely adapt to the woods! I may study to swing an ax, I may mild campfires, and I may…
No, these shirts are all ugly.
No matter.
“Thanks,” I name to the lady, waving as I depart the shop. Possibly I gained’t run away to the woods, however I’ll findsomethingto distract me from Ambrose Brent.
* * *
One dumb horror film later, I’m quick working out of excuses to keep away from campus. My cellphone stopped buzzing in my bag about an hour in the past, and I can’t resolve if that makes me really feel higher or worse. Principally I really feel empty, I believe.
I get a large slice of pizza and eat it off a paper plate, standing up outdoors and squinting out on the hazy pale sea within the distance. Sizzling cheese burns the roof of my mouth, however I preserve chewing, robotic, attempting to consider something besides Ambrose Brent.
That calculus take a look at I’ve developing.
The complete laundry hamper in my room.
The voicemail my mother and father left me final week, asking with real concern how I used to be ‘coping’ with my lessons.
Something besides narrowed hazel eyes, and that deep voice rumbling right down to my bone marrow. Something besides the agency power of a sure chest beneath my hand, and the way in which his buttons snagged on the heel of my palm as I stroked down his physique, and the purple mark his glasses depart on the bridge of his nostril.
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