“You only have a couple more months, babe. Then we’re off to Texas. College will be your clean slate. I promise. You just have to make it to graduation. But I still think you should keep your head held high on your way out. You deserve to do that.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah…these people can smell fear, though, and I really don’t want any more problems.”
“You got this,” Simone says softly, sensing my doubts. “One day at a time, remember?”
“One day at a time,” I repeat, flatly.
“I have to go; I’m walking into my class. But text me updates. I mean it.”
“I will,” I promise, hanging up.
I stare at the school building, summoning every ounce of courage left in me. Then I lean over to my passenger seat, where no one can see inside my windows, and open the glove compartment, pulling out the vodka-filled water bottle and taking the biggest swig I can, hoping for a little numbness to get through the morning.
I step out, keeping my head down through the parking lot, sensing all the eyes on me already, but not wanting to acknowledge them. I can’t tell if they’re angry stares, pity stares, or just curious stares, but I don’t really want to find out.
Walking through the entrance doors feels surreal. I’ve spent this whole school year without Eli here, going about my days while he was at college. Nothing felt weird without him here, but now I see him everywhere. I see every inch of space he once took up, every spot he flirted with me in, every spot he kissed me at, every spot he made me feel safe and protected, every spot he made me feel uneasy and insecure, every spot he made me feel terrified to do or say the wrong thing. I thought all I had to worry about with coming back was what people would say about me. I didn’t expect to be haunted by him here, too.
Haven’t you taken enough of my peace already? You just can’t let me go, can you?
Heads start to swivel toward me as I walk down the hall, eyes widening. Some expressions are shocked, others disgusted. My heart is racing, but I try to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
Just get to class. Just get through the day. Worry about what you’re here for. Don’t let them affect how you move. You can do this.
First period is tense, a couple of whispers and glances thrown my way, but mercifully, no one says anything directly to me. When class ends, I take a deep breath as I approach my teacher, hoping for some grace with what I’m about to ask.
“Mr. Collins?” I say softly, getting his attention. “Is there…um, anything extra I can do to bring my grade back up? I know I’ve been out for a while, but I really want to graduate on time, so…”
He studies me, softening his expression. “Of course, Lydia.” He hands me a couple of worksheets from his desk. “Complete these, and it’ll count toward your grade. We can reassess if you still need some extra help to pass.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate, surprised by his kindness.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
The sincerity in his words catches me off guard.
“I’m…trying.”
He nods. “Keep doing that.”
I muster a small smile before slipping from the classroom.
Confusion hits me when I open up my locker. It’s completely empty. My textbooks, binders…everything is gone. Maybe it’s just a mix-up or something. Maybe they cleared it out by accident and have my belongings in the office somewhere…hopefully. I close my locker, trying not to worry too much about it.
As I’m walking down the hallway to my next class, now with none of the textbooks that I need, I feel a hand grab my elbow. I can’t help the involuntary flinch at first before I turn to see that it’s John.
“Come here,” he whispers, nodding to a blocked-off area.
John is in the same grade as me, so I still see him at school, but I had started to avoid him a lot this last year with Eli being at college and our relationship getting pretty bad.
I follow him, and the guilt hits me as soon as we’re alone. “John…hey…how have you been?”
He looks away with pain in his eyes. “It’s been hard, but I’m doing better…seeing a therapist and all now. It’s kind of…helped, I guess.”
I nod sympathetically. “I’m sorry…that, you know, I never reached out to see how you were after…everything. We were friends. Well, at least I thought we were—”
John gently places his hand on my arm, stopping me. “Lydia. It’s okay. You’re going through a lot more than I am. I understand.”
“He was your best friend, though.”
