“I don’t think I’ve ever uttered these words to you in your life, but I’m disappointed in you. Disappointed in the way you just treated Dani. It’s not okay to go off like that on someone you care about. It’s fine to disagree. It’s fine to be mad, but you acting so completely disrespectful toward her is only going to make things worse. Because it’s very obvious to all of us that you still care for her. Even to Lacey, who you won’t commit to. You think she didn’t notice when you stopped holding her hand the second you saw Dani? Anger won’t kill your feelings, Chase. It will only make you look ugly trying to hide them.”
I want to justify my actions, but I can’t exactly tell Mom that, earlier today, Dani said she’d ride my pony again, and it got me all revved up.
Because what the hell was that even about?
I’ve had sex since we ended things. But it hasn’t been the same. What we had was special. It was love. The kind of stupid true love everyone dreams about.
And the kind of love I’ll probably never feel again.
I was going to yell at Dani earlier at her house, but Damon interrupted us. And it’s been simmering inside me all afternoon. The rage. The sadness. I’m not sure if there’s even a difference anymore.
I don’t reply to my mom. Just stare blankly at her, hoping she can’t read all that’s going through my mind.
She must not be able to because she keeps the lecture going, finally saying, “And I’d like you to tell your friends to leave. I think you need to spend some time alone today, contemplating the kind of man you want to be. Because the son I raised wouldn’t treat anyone, especially not a friend, the way you just treated Dani. She wanted to explain why she did what she did, and you just yelled at her.” When I don’t reply, she gives me the mom glare. “Better yet,” she says. “I’ll tell your friends to head out. You can just go straight up to your room.”
Which only makes things worse.
Because now, I find myself lying on my bed, staring at Dani’s window, knowing my mom was right.
Not about what happened.
But about how I yelled at her.
And how I wish I hadn’t.
Sunday, August 18th
She lost it.
Chase
Damon comes barreling into my room, unannounced. He was kind of pissed at me yesterday after Mom told everyone to go home, and I maybe fibbed to him about why I was in trouble, mentioning some chores I hadn’t done. As my best friend who happens to live next door, it’s certainly not unusual for him to just come over, but today, he seems stressed. And Damon is the least stressed person I know.
“I had to get out of the house,” he says, plopping down on a chair in the corner of the room. “My sister is freaking out.”
And I can’t help it. My eyes immediately glance out my window to his sister’s bedroom window.
My mom was right. I’m not at all over her. I just feel stuck. I also know that, like many of my other friends, she’ll be leaving for college next weekend. Which means I don’t have much time left to fix things.
Or apologize for yelling at her yesterday.
“What’s she freaking out about?” I ask.
“She’s leaving for college today, and she’s still not packed.”
“Wait, what?! Why is she leaving so soon? School doesn’t start for another week,” I say in a panic.
Damon rolls his eyes at me as he picks a football up from the floor and starts tossing it in the air and catching it.
“Rush week starts tomorrow. Apparently, Mom made a list of what Dani should wear each day, and she couldn’t find one of her pairs of shoes. She lost it. Started crying. I told her she needed to get her shit together. That she couldn’t go to college, acting like a big baby. To which Jennifer gave me a dirty look, gave Dani a big hug, and took her into her closet to find a similar shoe. So, fine, I’m thinking, Okay, that’s settled. We’re all good. But Dani’s still babbling about how she’s worried she can’t take enough regular clothes and blah, blah, and I was like, You’re a few hours away. It’s not like you can’t just drive home. Or call for the plane. Both she and Jennifer looked at me—the voice of reason—like I’d just told them to go eff off, so I figured it’d be safer over here.”
My eyes go back to the window. Even though Dani and I haven’t been close, at least I still get to see her. She sits on her window seat and reads or talks on her phone, and she goes to my and Damon’s games and to most of the family events. She’s here. I see her every day. And it makes me sad to think that I won’t anymore.
“I’m hungry,” Damon says. “Let’s go raid the fridge.”
“You go on down.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks me.
“Nothing. Just sick of chores. I’ve gotta put these clothes away quick, so Mom doesn’t get mad about it.” Fortunately, there’s a laundry basket full of clean clothes on my desk.
“Cool,” he says, wandering out, yesterday apparently forgiven.
He goes down the hall, and I hear him stop and talk to my sister, Haley, who is probably in her room, doing the same. Our family’s weekend chores.
I know what I’m about to do makes no sense. But nothing since the day we stopped being friends ever does.
I grab a piece of paper and start writing.
I look at it.
Laugh at myself.
Wad it up and throw it in the trash.
I grab another sheet and start over.
There are six rejects in the bin before I finally settle on a winner. Or at least, the best of the stupid things I wrote.
After I get my clothes put away, I deal with the note, then shut my curtains, and go down to the kitchen.
“Dude, you didn’t tell me today was cinnamon roll day,” Damon says, sitting at the counter, happily eating one of my mom’s practically legendary rolls.
“I didn’t know,” I say, surprised the smell didn’t wake me.
“I made some to send to college with Dani,” my mom says. “And a bunch of cookies and a basketful of snacks.”
Damon paws through the basket. “She’ll gain her freshman twenty her first week.” He laughs. Damon always finds himself hilarious.
“No, she won’t,” I say, standing up for her. “Dani eats super healthy and is mostly vegan.”
“And they are all healthy snacks,” my mom says to Damon before turning to me. “Chase, would you do me a favor and run them over?”
Uh, no, I think, I can’t. But I know I need to. I want to tell her I’m sorry before she leaves.
But before I get a chance to even pick up the basket, Damon’s phone buzzes with a text.
“You can give it to her outside,” he says. “We’re all supposed to go say goodbye now.”
It was our dream.
Devaney
I have a bit of a packing crisis—okay, it was more than a crisis—over a pair of shoes. Actually, I couldn’t care less about the shoes. It’s more that I’m not sure I want to do this. Not sure I want to leave home. Not sure I even want to go to college. And really not sure I want to go through rush. Even though both my mom and Jadyn have fond memories of being in a sorority, the idea seems antiquated in so many ways. Not to mention that you have to pay to be in one. Like I have to buy some friends to fit in. Jadyn told me what you pay is no different than joining a social club, a country club, or a business club.