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“We’ll meet you after, sweetheart,” Dad says. “We’ll be cheering for you.”
They leave with Holden to find seats with the rest of the families heading for the football stands.
Fox still isn’t here. My brows draw together and my heart gives a pained little pinch. I don’t know if his number of absences this year disqualified him from being able to walk in the graduation ceremony, but I was hoping to see him.
I’m still hurt that he could give up so easily on friendship, or the fiery thing building between us. When I’m around him, he makes me feel safe, despite being a stubborn asshole. He’s always seen my wild side without telling me to tone it down. He’s the only person who makes me feel alive and I want him in my life, no matter what that looks like. After the initial despair from my shattered heart dulled, a new grief formed a pit in my stomach.
My fingertips find the old braided leather and smooth stones of my bracelet.
Fox shouldn’t have to do what he’s doing alone. I want to help. If I can do that, maybe it will be enough to make amends for breaking my promise. Even if I was just a kid, it’s been eating at me that I had any part in hurting his family or him.
My thoughts continue to drift as I follow the rest of my classmates into the school to line up like we did yesterday in practice. Glancing at the rows of lockers and classrooms as we’re led through the hallways, sadness trickles through me. My parents might be proud, but can I say the same thing?
High school should be a time where I started to learn who I could be. I should’ve been making memories and discovering my own voice. It’s the chance to start to explore independence and shape my values and goals in life. But I didn’t get to do any of that.
A boy bumps into me that I don’t even know and it only makes me regret that we never got the chance to be friends. I frown and mumble an apology that he waves off, picking up his animated conversation with his buddies.
If I could do it all over again, without all the rules and pressure to perform in the precise way my parents wanted, what would I have picked for myself?
As soon as I think about it, I’m hit with a realization that almost brings me to my knees. Air rushes past my lips and I clutch the polyester gown hanging off my shoulders. Someone gives me a funny look, but I barely register it.
Mom and Dad haven’t just controlled me for years to make sure I follow a life plan they set out for me—I let them. I helped them by not fighting back hard enough. I gave in and went along, strangling my impulsive urges and curtailing every whim I’ve ever had.
Whims are for children and you’re a grown woman now.
Mom’s favorite criticism fills my head. Funny how I could be a grown woman but also still be treated like a kid by my parents. Whatever manipulation they had to pull to keep me in line, doing what they thought was best for me—what made them look good—was fair game to them.
How many times have I cut away pieces of myself in order to do what I’ve been told so I’d be seen as this perfect goody-goody?
Big parts and small, ones that didn’t seem noticeable and ones that hurt to shave away from who I really am. Everything from not dying my hair a fun color to only picking classes they wanted me to take, instead of choir and women’s history and a rock climbing elective introduced last year—because anything I wanted wasn’t as important as maintaining the path they wanted me on. I did it to keep the peace, in the hope I’d one day be granted the reward to take control of my own life. I did it because deep down, I didn’t want to disappoint them if my good behavior was the only reason they paid attention to me.
Because I was afraid.
I put myself in my cage as much as my parents did. That needs to end.
My throat closes as I glance through the open doors to the stands where families are seated, trying to search for my parents and my brother.
The ceremony is about to start. My fellow graduating classmates stand with me in line, waiting to be led out onto the football field on a bright, sunny summer day.
I’m supposed to be here. Expected to. But this is not where I want to be right now.
Time to stop pretending to be the good girl. That was never me.
“Where are you going? We’re about to start,” Jenna Taylor says when I step out of line.
I glance over my shoulder at her. This is the first time she’s ever spoken to me directly. She’s the mayor’s daughter, the one that threw the party Fox was at two months ago. It feels like a million years ago now. I was so jealous when he took her upstairs. The emotion swept through me like an angry tide, overtaking me to the point I just couldn’t stand by and take his crap anymore because that wasn’t who I was. I guess I should thank this girl for pushing me to find my backbone.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I lie. “Be right back.”
She pulls a face. “Don’t you care if you miss the beginning? This is like, your thing.”
“What is?”
“School. Smart nice girl shit? I don’t know, you’ve always seemed like a huge priss since you never partied all four years here and only focused on school.”
I lift a brow. “Assume much?” Hitching a shoulder, I gaze past her at the other students in line. Most of them don’t know the real me and never bothered to look beyond my reputation or the rumors. “If you’d ever taken the time to talk to me, you’d know that isn’t me
at all.” Her brows jump up and an embarrassed blush creeps across her cheeks. I wave a hand. “I’m pretty glad this is all over. I don’t actually care about any of this, or missing the beginning.”
