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Chapter Thirty-Three
Poppy was finally asleep.Sure, the borrowed bed had blue sheets and blankets, but she didn’t care—a nursery was a nursery. Running a hand over the baby-soft curls on Poppy’s head, she missed the man who gave her the curls.
Yesterday, Harper had told her that Chris wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t push her to call him. She just had a message. She also asked if Chris made fun of her in kindergarten, but Agatha couldn’t remember anything that far back.
Leaving her baby in the nursery, she went to her assigned bedroom, far away from the master. It was up to Buzz and Jonas to get Poppy if she woke up in the night. They needed the practice, and she didn’t want to be close enough to hear anything.
Sitting back in her bed, she grabbed the sketchpad she had brought. Though she couldn’t draw her books in it, she could sketch how she wanted her next book to go. Creating ideas for her next story wasn’t as easy as one would think, especially after she’d just finished one.
As she erased a skunk, her bedroom door burst open. Expecting to see Buzz, she was surprised when Harper and Lucy walked into the room, Buzz following behind.
“We have to talk, Agatha,” Harper stated angrily.
“What did I do?” she asked. She had done a lot in the last few weeks, and more over the last few years. Pinning down what she had done wrong in their eyes this time was going to be hard.
“First, Chris gave us this today to give to you. A peace offering.” Lucy handed her the piece of paper she had been holding carefully.
Looking at the paper, Agatha was confused for a half a second, and then realized it was the valentine she had given him years before. Somebunny did love him. She had. At the time, she was sure he had thrown it away. She watched him throw all his valentines away that afternoon, but he had kept hers.
“Thanks,” she mumbled as she stared at it in disbelief.
“Are you still that somebunny, Agatha?” Harper sat on the bed.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not what he wants; never have been. And now he knows who I am.” She put the card in her sketchpad and closed it.
“He seems to still like you, Agatha. He said he loved you today.” Lucy crawled under the covers next to her, leaned against the headboard, and put an arm around Agatha.
“Once his friends find out, he’ll forget about what he said,” Agatha told them.
“Not this time. He isn’t a kid anymore, Agatha,” Harper stated, sitting down but still a bit angry with her.
“I can’t do it again,” Agatha replied, fighting back tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of her sisters.
“Maybe you won’t have to. Maybe he won’t break your heart this time.” Lucy squeezed her.
“He already did,” Agatha whispered.
“I don’t know. I think you ran off on him. I think his heart is broken too,” Harper stated.
“He’ll get on with his life; he always does,” Agatha told her. This had happened before.
“Not this time. Cliff wants to buy Chris’s house, and his only reaction was sadness. That house is his only connection to you.” Harper squeezed her foot.
“At least he’ll be gone soon.” Agatha’s heart hurt saying the words.
“Why did you quit high school, Agatha?” Harper folded her arms.
“Because I was done. I just stayed home that day; it was the last week anyway. I wasn’t good at it and didn’t want to pretend to care anymore. A week wasn’t going to make a difference,” Agatha repeated the same thing she had told her mom so many years before.
“That’s not what I remember. I remember you went to school that morning, and then you left. Your friend, Dayle, asked where you had gone, and I said you were at school, but she said you never came to class,” Buzz said.
“It’s been a few years. I can’t remember all the details,” Agatha lied. There were just too many sisters in this little room asking her questions she didn’t want to answer.
“Stop it, Agatha. Why did you quit school?” Harper asked again. As the oldest, she was always in charge of the interrogations. It was a job Agatha longed for.
“Was it because of Chris?” Lucy asked carefully.
Agatha was silent under the pressure, too silent.
