Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
It was easier to be in my room, but every day spent in isolation brought its own side effects, feeding my anger at everything and everyone. And I didn’t know how to make it stop. So it grew and grew until it became my whole existence.
People are assholes
I ripped up every piece of paper anyone shoved in my face or slid under my door, except the lined pink paper. Those were from Tillie, my fifteen-year-old sister who was in a serious Madonna phase with short, edgy blond hair, heavy eye makeup, ripped denim, and high-top sneakers. She also pierced her own ears, which resulted in a nasty infection that lasted several weeks.
Her notes didn’t make me smile, but they came close. I felt like there was still happiness somewhere inside of me, but I couldn’t find it. Every day, anger won. I responded.
Am I “people”?
A few seconds later, she slid the paper back under my door.
No. I’m talking about that jerk who threw Gabby into the hallway. HE’S a real asshole. My brother would never do that.
I read her words twice. Seeing Gabby hurt the most because I loved her the most. But she didn’t love me the same way. Still, I’d thought I could prove that I was better than the baseball player turned lawyer. I was going to be a famous conductor who would write entire symphonies for her.
Overnight, I turned into her disabled friend with no future. I wanted all of her except her pity, but that’s all she’d ever be able to give me. And suddenly, I didn’t know how to be her friend with no hope of anything more.
Did that make me an asshole? Absolutely.
Your brother was awesome. Too bad he died.
I returned the paper. In the next breath, the door vibrated against my back. She was banging on it.
I stood and opened it a fraction. Tillie shoved her whole body into it until I took a step back to let her inside. She grabbed my shirt with both hands and tried to shake me; her lips moving while her eyes reddened with angry emotion.
Shaking my head, I narrowed my eyes. She slapped the piece of paper onto my desk and scribbled another note on the back of our original messages. Then she shoved the paper into my chest like she was punching me.
You don’t get to leave this world! Do you understand? If you kill yourself, I will kill myself too!
I studied her for a few seconds before looking at the paper again. Then I flipped it over to reread our previous notes.
Too bad he died.
I shook my head a half dozen times. “That’s not what I meant,” I said.
Tillie looked deep into my eyes for a few seconds.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, hugging her.
She pulled away, giving me a look that she learned from our mom. It was the silent scolding. After glancing around my room, Tillie eyed a framed picture face down on my nightstand. She set it upright. It was a picture of me giving Gabby a piggyback ride through our yard after a rare, record-breaking January snowstorm. She wore a big smile while trying to catch snow on her tongue. My mom took it from the living room window.
Tillie pointed to the picture and shook her head, more silent scolding. There was so much she didn’t know and couldn’t understand. To my family, it looked like Gabby was trying to be there for me, writing me letters and visiting me over Thanksgiving break. But they didn’t know about the kiss. They didn’t know how much I ached to mean as much to her as she meant to me.
I wasn’t proud of my selfish heart wanting everything from her, nor was I in control of it. Feelings weren’t a choice; they were a reaction to the mind rejecting logic. I was certain of it. After all, who would willingly choose to fall in love with someone who was in love with another?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DEF LEPPARD, “LOVE BITES”
Gabby
I smiled on cue, nodded, and answered “fine” to everything I was asked on Thanksgiving.
How’s school? Fine.
How’s your roommate? Fine.
Do you like the campus? It’s fine.
Then Grandma Bonnie asked me another question. “How’s Ben’s hearing?” she asked.
I stared at my plate, absentmindedly rearranging my turkey and mashed potatoes. “He’s deaf, but shit happens.” My knee-jerk response silenced everyone at the dinner table, but it took me several seconds to register the words that fell from my lips.
Swearing wasn’t my thing, and definitely not in front of my parents in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. And the insensitive tone wasn’t me either. There must have been a low level of anger that I was suppressing, then boom! It came out at the worst time.
As I glanced up, everyone gawked at me, except Eve. She grinned like a proud older sister.