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Thankfully I make it to my first class still dry. I join the flow of students and make my way to Modern English 410.It’s a required class so it’s full, which is good for me. I slip into the back where I’m least likely to be noticed.
As the professor lectures, I think I micro-nap, but I manage to stay mostly alert, somehow. When the bell rings I have some free time before my next class. The campus is sprawling with a dozen main buildings spread over a hundred acres. Carefully maintained grass gives an open, airy feeling. There are connecting sidewalks between the buildings lined with alternating rows of bushes and trees. There are also small grottos with benches tucked back and surrounded by trees or bushes to give a sense at least of privacy. I find an empty one and take a seat.
The moment I sit a raven caws. I spring to my feet and spin towards the sound. The large black bird is perched on a tree limb probably six feet over my head. It tilts its head so that one glassy black eye is staring.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t have an answer yet.” It caws loudly as if protesting my answer. “I don’t care.” The damn thing flutters its wings and screeches even louder. “No, damn it. I have too much to do. I’ve got responsibilities.”
“Quinn?” Savannah’s voice interrupts my argument with the crow.
I drop my head, cheeks flushing hot. How much did she see or hear? She’s going to think I’m crazy. I pull myself together and turn to greet my friend.
“Hey,” I say, plastering a wide smile on my face. “How’s it going?”
She has a stack of books clutched to her chest and a bulging backpack slung over one shoulder. She’s wearing jeans and a loose-fitting Nirvana T-shirt with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
“Good,” she says, but the worry is written so clearly on her face that it could be a neon freaking sign. “Are you, uhm, are you good?”
“Good? Uhm, yeah.” I force a laugh and shrug. “Of course, bit stressed, you know. Lots going on.”
“Is it your dad? Has something happened or…” She trails off, obviously not knowing what else to blame my erratic behavior on.
“He’s fine,” I assure her and the tension drains away from her face and shoulders.
“That’s good.” She smiles and nods. “I was worried.” She looks past me and up at the tree, then back. “Quinn, are you okay? Really? If you need help, you know I’m here for you.”
Secrets are walls. Invisible, ugly, divisive walls that lie between you and the ones you’re keeping the secret from. Worse, the bigger the secret or the longer you hold onto it, the more it becomes like a wall. A thick, impenetrable wall that is surrounded by minefields. It forces you to tiptoe around them all the time because one misstep and it all blows up. No one wants the blowup because that would be the worst. If it wouldn’t, then why are you keeping the secret?
I can’t look her in the eyes. It’s too hard and I can’t tell her the truth. It’s so insane I barely believe it and I lived it. The most incredible pressure builds in my head until it feels as if it will explode at any moment. Savannah is watching me close. I know I’m taking too long to answer. That flusters me more and leaves me floundering.
“I do, I appreciate it,” I say, shrugging and feeling both lame and like the worst friend in the world at the same time.
Savannah shifts the stacks of books to free one arm, then she moves in close and wraps it around my shoulders.
“Quinn,” she frowns, pursing her lips, “I know there’s a lot happening. There’d be no shame if you tried out something to help, but that stuff is bad. We can get you help if you need it.”
“Huh?” I shake my head, staring at her in absolute confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She looks furtively around as her frown deepens. Satisfied we’re alone, she still leans in close and whispers.
“Are you high?”
I choke on a laugh, and it comes out as a snort. The stupid raven picks that moment to rip out with one of its own raucous screeches that makes me think it found the idea as hilarious as I do.
Oh, Savannah. If you only knew. Drugs would probably be so much easier than this.
Savannah frowns and her eyes narrow as her cheeks flush. I have to stop this now before she runs too far with this.
“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.” I shake my head. “It’s the idea, really. I’m not on drugs. I haven’t been sleeping very well is all. I’m exhausted. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
She purses her lips and moves in closer.
“There’s no shame. It’s okay if you are. I’ll help.”
“Savannah, I love you, but no. I’m not on drugs.”
“Okay,” she says, but the tone of her voice and her body language tells me she’s not letting this idea go that easily.
Mentally I sigh, but I can’t let her see that. She’ll read it wrong and then that will only serve to escalate. I can see it now. Any minute and she’ll be staging an intervention. It’d be so much easier if I told her the truth.
