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“I hate knowing you’re off your meds,” she said.
I felt like a little of the air seeped out of me. I knew she’d only been here a few days, but I’d hoped some part of the trial would’ve at least made her see the whole thing was a delusion. “I feel great, though.”
“For now.”
Change the subject. The whole medicine thing was why she was here, I reminded myself. They’d have years to work with her to rewire her brain and fix that, if it could be fixed.
“I’m getting ready to go to college now,” I said.
She nodded, eyes still on the window.
“Tristan got a scholarship,” I added hopefully.
Her features twisted at the mention of his name. “Of course, he did. That boy is going to have the world handed to him on a golden platter. He’ll never have to try for anything so long as he lives.”
I pushed down my anger at her words. “Tristan doesn’t have it as easy as people think. And he got the scholarship because of academics. Not football, actually. When he got kicked off the team, when…” I stopped myself. I wanted things to be better with my mom again. No matter how long it took, I wanted to start healing the wound. But it wasn’t going to happen if I pretended she hadn’t done what she did. She needed to know how much pain she’d caused—how wrong she was. Once she accepted that, we could start moving forward. “When you got him kicked off the team, it didn’t matter that he got back on. College teams were afraid to make him offers because it seemed like too much of a risk. Thankfully, he has always worked hard in the classroom and he had the grades to get a partial scholarship to one of his top choices.”
She kept staring out the window, lips working together wordlessly. “Where’s your chair?” she asked. “You’re going to fall without your chair, sweetie.” Her voice was oddly distant, like she was talking in her sleep.
“I’m going to go, mom.” I hesitated once I stood, then walked over to her and hugged her tight. “I love you. I always will.”
After a few seconds, she put an arm around me and hugged me back.Epilogue - Tristan* * *I walked behind Kennedy, pushing her chair toward what would officially be her first class of college. Being infinitely wise, I hadn’t scheduled any classes before ten in the morning, so I still had a few hours before mine began.
“You know.” I stopped, making a show of scrunching my eyebrows and running my hand suggestively along the chrome of the wheelchair. “Seeing you in one of these bad boys again might just get me hard.”
“You get hard if I make eye contact with you.” Kennedy tried and failed not to smile.
“I’m not going to apologize that my equipment is in top working condition. Besides, I’ve never heard you complain.”
“At least one of us is in full working condition.” She looked down at her cast with a sigh. “if I ever get it in my head to become a world-class athlete again, please slap the idea out of me.”
“You were the best frisbee golfer I think I ever saw for those glorious two days.”
“Seriously, though. If they know people are going to be frisbee golfing, don’t you think they should maybe check for giant, leg eating pot holes?”
“For sure.” I started pushing her chair again. “It’s ridiculous to imagine people would look where they were walking and avoid a giant, gaping black hole in the ground.”
“I was scouting my next throw.”
“Consequently, your last.”
We fell into a comfortable silence as I pushed her through the campus. It was pretty, and bustling with life. There was something more anonymous about it than high school, even if it had a similar feeling at times. Here, nobody knew me. It didn’t feel like Kennedy and I were in a spotlight. We were in our own, secret little corner of the social world.
We’d both opted to commute to college, which let us spend more time with her dad and her growing garden of weeds. Ironically, it was starting to look a lot like it had before she moved in and cleared all the weeds. To plant more weeds. It was kind of adorable, so I never gave her a hard time about it. As pointless as the task was, she enjoyed going out there and watering the things.
I still couldn’t quite believe I’d managed to wind up getting a scholarship because of my essays. Mr. Smith had the idea to submit my essays for some program, and a couple months later, I learned I’d been selected. Somehow, it was even more satisfying when I got to tell my dad. Yeah, he’d still hung up without saying shit, but now he knew I was smarter than he’d ever given me credit for.
