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“You sound like you’re fifty-seven, Maisie, instead of seventeen. If your sister wants to learn art theory, you should be more supportive.”
A stab of childish pettiness swept through me. “You and Dad are supportive enough without me.”
“You shouldn’t subscribe to what society says,” Mom went on. “The artsarea valid career choice. It’s disappointing to me that you’re among the few who think it isn’t credible.”
I held my breath until my lungs burned. It wasn’t that I thought arts weren’t credible—I just didn’tget it. I didn’t get why Jozie got all the attention, all the money, all the support. Her art projects were always pinned up on the fridge. Couldn’t they have pinned up one of my aced math tests? Jozie was forty-third in her class and she was congratulated for being in the top fifty—couldn’t they have congratulated me for being number one?
It was like they’d put all their enthusiasm into Jozie that they had no energy left to go through it with me.
Her once concentrated swipes across her tablet were now fueled by a rigid sort of passion, containing a bottled mix of anger and frustration. Without another word, I stalked off toward my bedroom, too tired to fight with her. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good to talk now. Whereas I liked to tackle problems head-on and try to solve them, Mom simmered in her anger until she didn’t want to anymore, and without resolving the issue, she’d act as if we’d never fought in the first place.
I turned toward the hallway, wishing that in that regard, I was more like her.
Jozie’s bed greeted me first as I walked into my bedroom, reminding me how different the house felt without her. The dynamic was off. Jozie was the one who could always moderate between Mom and me, could soothe Mom’s moods and get her back on my side.Yours and Mom’s perspectives are too different, she’d say.Tell me what you want, and I’ll get her to say yes.
With a weight on my chest, I sat down on her bed. My side of the room seemed so much lonelier, with a few origami roses on my nightstand and my primly made bed. With a sigh, I pulled out my phone.
Me:just so you know, I miss you
Her response came in a few minutes later, right before my screen auto-locked from lack of use.
Jozie:I miss you BUNCHES! I’ll try to call tonight so we can chat. Everything ok?
I’d been building a collection of things I could’ve confessed to her. The Most Likely Tos. The tumultuous situation with being valedictorian. Tutoring Connor Bray. My whole life, she’d been my confidant who’d always been there to share things with. I’d never kept anything from her before, and vice versa. Now, though, with her so many miles away, I couldn’t imagine delving into any of it.
Me:no rush. Everything’s good on this end.
I waited for her next text, but this time, my phone auto-locked, and I sat on her bed for another ten minutes before I realized she wasn’t going to respond.
* * *
I left my car in Brentwood High’s parking lot and walked to the corner of Main Street and College Avenue. Car after car zoomed past, staring at the random high school girl standing like a statue. Thankfully, school let out an hour and a half ago, which meant that there’d be few, if any, peers driving past to spot me.
Just middle-aged folk wondering if I was selling Girl Scout cookies or something.
I readjusted my satchel strap where it dug into my shoulder, fighting for patience.
If Connor was lateagain, I was going to lose my marbles.
We didn’t have any classes together, so confirming that we were still on for today was impossible, not that he would’ve appreciated my intrusion anyway. If I’d walked up to him, he probably would’ve pretended not to know me.
Ah, what a lovely dynamic we had.
There was a bench a few feet to my left, beckoning me closer, but I refused. Sitting down would be accepting my fate of waiting on himagain. And I would not. I’d rather lose my valedictorian cord and watch him fail than to let him walk all over me again. I wasn’t going to let it fly.
Except my feet were starting to ache…
The second I’d resigned to eat my words and sit down, a bright blue SUV drove up along the curb in front of me, window rolled down. I hadn’t realized they’d stopped for me until a voice started speaking, one newly familiar. “Hop in. Now.”
Connor leaned across the passenger’s seat and shoved the door open, staring me down until I stumbled into action. “Don’t order me around,” I snapped back at him. “I’m not a dog.”
As soon as I shut the door, Connor peeled away from the curb, swerving back into traffic. I scrambled for my seatbelt. “I don’t know. Macy can be a dog’s name.”
“It’sMaisie.” My tone was biting, but then again, I’d met a dog or two with that name. I wasn’t really helping my case. “Where are we even going?”
Connor readjusted his rearview mirror by a fraction, gaze flicking to it and then away. “Someplace where no one will find us.”
“Becausethatdoesn’t sound sketchy as hell.”
