This is What Goodbye Looks Like Read Free Page B

flourish.
    Part of me wants to snap at him that I could have gotten it myself. But a larger part of me really doesn’t want to become known as the new girl who fell flat on her ass the minute she got to campus. So I nod my thanks to him and take the cane, trying not to look relieved as I lean against it and take some weight off my aching left knee.
    “Um,” Brie says, and I realize she’s just been staring at me and not answering my question. I lean over and pick up my smallest bag, partially to prove I’m not entirely helpless, and partially so I can pretend like nothing happened and let Brie keep talking.
    “So,” she says, “uh, yeah, Nathan and I met at the pizza place he works at. It’s sort of the hang out spot for the seniors at Harting, and he started working there about a year ago.”
    I raise an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were a taxi driver?”
    “He has many talents,” Brie says.
    “And many bills,” Nathan says. “I’m trying to save up for culinary school, but it’s taking a while.”
    “I still think you need to try applying for some scholarships,” Brie says to him. “You could totally get them.” Then she turns to me and adds, “I swear he makes the best pizzas in the state. I mean, he can even make anchovies taste good. Not even joking.”
    “Aww, Brie, you’re making me blush,” Nathan says, winking at her.
    She rolls her eyes. “Learn to take a compliment gracefully, will you?”
    He laughs. “Graceful isn’t my style, sweetie.” He glances over at me and frowns as I try to rub my arms and balance on my cane all at once. “Where’s your coat?”
    “I didn’t bring it on the plane.” And I’m already regretting it as the chill seeps deeper into my skin every second. I clear my throat a little, which has become a habit ever since the accident. My vocal chords don’t painfully spasm like they used to, but my voice still goes hoarse a lot, and clearing my throat seems to help. “Um, can we go inside? Sorry, it’s just kind of freezing out here.”
    Brie takes a moment to examine my clothes and then shakes her head. “Well of course you’re cold! I’m going to have to give you a major lesson on layering. It’s the only way you’re ever going to survive here.”
    Nathan scoffs. “You Californians and your cold intolerance. Such wimps.”
    “Well excuse me for not being born with antifreeze in my veins,” Brie says as she grabs my other two bags from the ground. “Totally not my fault my parents didn’t want to raise me in a frozen wasteland.”
    “Come on, Brie, it’s not that bad here,” Nathan says. “You know the teachers only start eating the freshmen when they get snowed in for longer than twenty days.”
    Brie swats at Nathan’s arm and says to me, “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go to school at Harting.”
    “Fifteen essays a semester? Yeah, I’m happy I passed that one up. You smart kids are crazy.” Nathan hesitates for a moment, then says to me, “Hey, I’ve got to take off now.”
    “Oh,” I say. “Yeah, hang on a sec.” I rest my cane against the side of the taxi and dig through my backpack, pulling out my wallet. I quickly count out the fare, along with a forty dollar tip, and press it into Nathan’s hand before he can protest.
    He raises an eyebrow, clearly thinking it’s a mistake, but I just shrug and don’t take it back. Every month, I get a small check from the stock photo website where I sell some of my old photography as prints. Mom helped me set up the account my sophomore year of high school, saying it made me a true professional. The income I make off my photography isn’t much, but ever since the accident, it hasn’t felt right to keep it for myself. So I’ve started giving the money away, usually to local charities, but sometimes just as big tips to people who deserve it more than I do. I figure Nathan fits the profile well enough, as a hard-working dude trying to earn his way into school.
    He