bit. I’d allow myself to be his friend, but I wouldn’t keep going the way we were. Remembering how to keep it together was crucial, because I certainly didn’t need to continue to let myself get swept up into…
Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was in pretty deep with him already, and I could never take back what I’d told him. He had the knowledge now, and nothing could change that.
I barely slept Tuesday night and went to school on Wednesday, powered by nothing but fumes. I remembered to eat only because Tom reminded me during the few minutes in the morning that I saw him. I was pretty sure I had sex with Jason in his car before school, but I wasn’t entirely positive.
I was high, not just from the pot on the way to school, but also from sleep deprivation. I’d never slept particularly well, but I’d usually managed at least five hours. Ever since those words started shouting in my head, it was even worse.
During school, I did my best to retrain my mind again. I was in control of my thoughts. I was in control of what I felt, and I wouldn’t let myself get involved in the whispers of the past again.
Elliott was coming over after school, and I would prove to myself that I could still keep my shit private. It was all about keeping it in a box and ignoring the crowbar Elliott kept using to pry it open.
In order to ignore, I tried to go on autopilot, which worked for the majority of the school day. I listened to Jane tell me about Homecoming, and at lunch I nodded in the appropriate places when the kids I sat with said anything. I didn’t have sex with Jason during Study Hall; we just smoked pot, neither one of us really talking.
Autopilot failed in Horticulture, of course, because Elliott was there. My plan had been to sleep again. Surely, he would’ve understood that I was tired. When I sat down, he slid a few crisp sheets of paper over to me. I looked down and recognized his very careful script.
“I c-copied my notes f-for you.”
I focused my eyes on the paper and looked at how well-laid-out the notes were. He was entirely too nice to me. Elliott seemed to care when no one else did, and I wanted to be pissed about it. I wanted to yell at him and tell him to leave me the hell alone. I wanted to go back to being a nameless face in a crowd of kids. I wanted to take back my first day and do it over.
If that were possible, I would have never spoken to Connor. I would have never found myself walking with him and the biggest asshole at Damascus High, Chris Anderson, and then Elliott would have never bumped into me.
I wouldn’t be stuck with all these fucking feelings.
But I couldn’t take any of it back, and if I were truly honest with myself, I didn’t want to. I liked Elliott.
I finally lifted my head and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”
Instead of trying to push him out of my mind, I tried to focus on him to drive away the memory of a man’s voice telling me, Shhhh! Quiet, Sophie. Don’t wake your mother.
After we left school, the ride to my house with Elliott was awkward and strange, but that seemed to be the usual. He was kind, too kind, and I was…well…I was whatever the opposite of kind was. He was so deserving of good things, and I was so not.
Our relationship had slipped into this murky gray pool of what the hell . He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he wasn’t just a friend either. I hadn’t had many friends in my life, but I was pretty sure I’d never tell other “friends” about a fork in my neck or having to learn to cook when I was just a little kid so I literally wouldn’t starve.
I didn’t know what to say to Elliott. I wished that I could pull back all of those words I’d said on Friday and Saturday; the ones that told him my mother had left me on my own to care for myself when she wasn’t too busy hitting me and making me fall onto dirty utensils. No good was going to come from people knowing that shit. Even Elliott.
There was a change in him. It was subtle, and
Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was in pretty deep with him already, and I could never take back what I’d told him. He had the knowledge now, and nothing could change that.
I barely slept Tuesday night and went to school on Wednesday, powered by nothing but fumes. I remembered to eat only because Tom reminded me during the few minutes in the morning that I saw him. I was pretty sure I had sex with Jason in his car before school, but I wasn’t entirely positive.
I was high, not just from the pot on the way to school, but also from sleep deprivation. I’d never slept particularly well, but I’d usually managed at least five hours. Ever since those words started shouting in my head, it was even worse.
During school, I did my best to retrain my mind again. I was in control of my thoughts. I was in control of what I felt, and I wouldn’t let myself get involved in the whispers of the past again.
Elliott was coming over after school, and I would prove to myself that I could still keep my shit private. It was all about keeping it in a box and ignoring the crowbar Elliott kept using to pry it open.
In order to ignore, I tried to go on autopilot, which worked for the majority of the school day. I listened to Jane tell me about Homecoming, and at lunch I nodded in the appropriate places when the kids I sat with said anything. I didn’t have sex with Jason during Study Hall; we just smoked pot, neither one of us really talking.
Autopilot failed in Horticulture, of course, because Elliott was there. My plan had been to sleep again. Surely, he would’ve understood that I was tired. When I sat down, he slid a few crisp sheets of paper over to me. I looked down and recognized his very careful script.
“I c-copied my notes f-for you.”
I focused my eyes on the paper and looked at how well-laid-out the notes were. He was entirely too nice to me. Elliott seemed to care when no one else did, and I wanted to be pissed about it. I wanted to yell at him and tell him to leave me the hell alone. I wanted to go back to being a nameless face in a crowd of kids. I wanted to take back my first day and do it over.
If that were possible, I would have never spoken to Connor. I would have never found myself walking with him and the biggest asshole at Damascus High, Chris Anderson, and then Elliott would have never bumped into me.
I wouldn’t be stuck with all these fucking feelings.
But I couldn’t take any of it back, and if I were truly honest with myself, I didn’t want to. I liked Elliott.
I finally lifted my head and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”
Instead of trying to push him out of my mind, I tried to focus on him to drive away the memory of a man’s voice telling me, Shhhh! Quiet, Sophie. Don’t wake your mother.
After we left school, the ride to my house with Elliott was awkward and strange, but that seemed to be the usual. He was kind, too kind, and I was…well…I was whatever the opposite of kind was. He was so deserving of good things, and I was so not.
Our relationship had slipped into this murky gray pool of what the hell . He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he wasn’t just a friend either. I hadn’t had many friends in my life, but I was pretty sure I’d never tell other “friends” about a fork in my neck or having to learn to cook when I was just a little kid so I literally wouldn’t starve.
I didn’t know what to say to Elliott. I wished that I could pull back all of those words I’d said on Friday and Saturday; the ones that told him my mother had left me on my own to care for myself when she wasn’t too busy hitting me and making me fall onto dirty utensils. No good was going to come from people knowing that shit. Even Elliott.
There was a change in him. It was subtle, and
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