The Redemption of Callie & Kayden Read Free

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 bag from the desk, sniffs her shirt, and shrugs. “But some advice: Maybe you shouldn’t judge people by their looks.”
    “I don’t,” I tell her, feeling bad. “I’m sorry if you think I judged you.”
    She collects her phone from the desk and tosses it into her bag, then heads for the door. “Listen, if some guy named