Even though it’s cold and the
water sticks my clothes to my body, it reminds me of a beautiful
time full of magical kisses and I need to hold onto that.
Because for now, it’s all I’ve got.
* * *
Time drags on. Classes are ending, wrapping up for winter
break. I’ve been staring at my English book for so long it feels like my eyes are bleeding and the words look identical. I rub my eyes
with my fingertips, pretending like the room doesn’t smell like pot
and that Violet, my roommate, isn’t passed out in the bed across
from mine. She’s been like that for the last ten hours. I’d be
worried she was dead, but she keeps muttering incoherently in her
sleep.
On top of studying for the English exam, I’m supposed to be
writing an essay. I joined a creative writing club at the beginning of the year, and at the end of it, I’m supposed to turn in three
projects: a poem, a short story, and a nonfiction piece. As much as
I love to write, I’m struggling with the idea of putting truth down
on paper for other people to read. I’m afraid of what might come
out if I really open up. Or maybe it’s because it seems silly to write a paper about the truth of life when Kayden’s in an institution
living the truth. All I’ve typed so far is: Where the Leaves Go by
Callie Lawrence. I’m uncertain of where I’ll go with this.
The rain from earlier has frozen into fluffy snowflakes that
sail from the sky and a silvery sheet of ice glistens across the
campus yard. I tap my fingers on the top of my book, thinking
about home and how there’s probably three or four feet of snow
and how my mom’s car is probably stuck in the driveway. I can
picture the snowplow roaming the town’s streets, and my dad
doing warm-ups inside the gym because it’s too cold to be
outside. And Kayden is still in the hospital under supervision
because they think he tried to kill himself. It’s been a few weeks
since it happened. He was out of it for quite a while from the
blood transfusion and lacerations to his body. Then he woke up
and no one could see him because he’s considered “high risk” and
“under surveillance” (Kayden’s mother’s words, not mine).
My phone is sitting on my bed next to a pile of study sheets
and an array of highlighters. I pick it up, dial Kayden’s number, and wait for his voicemail message to come on.
“Hey, this is Kayden, I’m way too busy to take your call right
now, so please leave a message and maybe you’ll be lucky enough
that I’ll call you back.” There’s sarcasm in his voice like he thinks he’s being funny and I smile, missing him so badly it pierces my
heart.
I listen to it over and over again until I can hear the
underlying pain in his sarcasm, the one that carries his secrets.
Eventually, I hang up and flop back on my bed, wishing I could
travel back in time and not let Kayden find out that it was Caleb
who raped me.
“God, what time is it?” Violet sits up in her bed and blinks her
bloodshot eyes at the leather-band watch on her wrist. She shakes
her head and gathers her black-and-red-streaked hair out of her
face. She gazes out the window at the snow and then looks at me.
“How long have I been out?”
I shrug, staring up at the ceiling. “I think, like, ten hours?”
She throws the blanket off herself and climbs out of bed.
“Fuck, I missed my chemistry class.”
“You take chemistry?” I don’t mean for it to sound so rude,
but the shock of her taking chemistry comes through in my voice.
Violet and I have shared a room for three months, and from what I
can tell, she likes to party and she likes guys.
She gives me a dirty look as she slips her arm through the
sleeve of her leather jacket. “What? You don’t think I can party and
be smart?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”
“I know what you meant—what you think of me, and
everyone else thinks of me.” She snatches her