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THIRTY-SEVEN
Shaken by the whole ordeal with Annalise, I miss school for the rest of the week and the following.
Momma makes sure I speak to a counselor, worried I’m traumatized, and Dad is consistently asking if I’m all right.
Both think Brandon and I should take a break. But I don’t want to. I love him more than ever, and I want to support him after he pushed his abuser to her death.
Though we haven’t seen each other since that awful night, we’ve texted non-stop. He’s filled in missing pieces about Annalise, including how her mother disowned her after she assaulted him, and he informed me his family is back in counseling.
After three weeks, I’m finally returning to the academy.
I’m not the only one.
Heath’s standing in the lot with his friends, clutches under both arms, a cast on his right leg.
No matter his inappropriateness toward me, he doesn’t deserve being struck by a car and unable to play Lacrosse.
At least he survived the maniac’s attempt at his life. The police found Annalise’s car and evidence that she was behind the hit-and-run.
Sam and Rajid hasten over once Dad takes off.
They throw their arms around me, and I relax in the company of my friends.
“Welcome back, Kayla,” Rajid greets.
“How are you?” Sam asks, even though she’s stopped by nearly every day.
I shrug and tell her, “So so.”
We enter the building together, and I take longer than usual at my locker, eager for Brandon to appear in the hallway. Gosh, I miss him.
“Sorry again about the art exhibition,” Rajid says.
“Yeah. It sucks, but I get it.” I never received an email from Ms. Jung, and Sam told me she selected artists from my class. So, I figured I didn’t make the top five. The exhibition was last week, too.
Whispers fill the hallway, and my heart starts to race.
I turn and spot Brandon speed-walking toward me.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me as if it’s the first time all over again, stealing the air from my lungs.
Surprised gasps surround us.
Fellow students have never seen Brandon so intimate with anyone in school.
Him kissing me is most certainly a phenomenon to them.
“You have any idea how much I’ve missed you, little artist?” he says once our lips part.
I smile and press my head against his chest. “I have an idea from your very detailed texts.”
“Ahem,” Sam clears her throat. “Hey, Brandon. How are you doing?”
“I’m getting there,” he replies without letting me go.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Rajid says to him. “Truly. I can’t imagine.”
“Thank you.” Brandon releases me from the embrace but keeps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m just happy Kayla is okay.”
