“I want the books,” I say, the words falling from my lips before I can take them back.
“What?” Gramps’s asks.
“Grams’s books. I’m going to get them this weekend. I want them,” I say.
Gramps shakes his head. “They’re not yours.”
“Because you’re definitely putting them to use,” I snap.
“Halle,” Ollie says. “Stop it.”
“If you won’t remember her, someone should.”
My hands shake violently and tears blur my vision. We’re on a residential street that connects Molly’s neighborhood to ours. I pull over and put the car in park.
Gramps exhales. “Just take us home, Hal.”
I shake my head. “Grams would hate what you did to the house.”
“I know.” Gramps’s voice is hollow.
“I hate the house,” I say.
“Damn it, Halle, I know.”
Gramps’s voice reverberates off the windows before silence settles in the car; the only noise I can hear is the angry beat of my broken heart. I don’t think I’ve rendered Ollie silent before. Ever. I’m never loud enough. My words are never sharp enough.
For the first time since I arrived in Middleton, I don’t try to filter what I’m feeling.
“Then why did you do it?”
“You can’t even imagine.” Gramps’s voice cracks. “It’s like half of me died.”
I exhale. Twist the key in the ignition and shift the car into drive.
“Me too. But you’re not dead, Gramps. You’re not.”
We shift into silence and eventually I start to drive again. I’m struggling for the right words to say, the right way to tell Gramps, I am hurting too and I am here.
Instead, I hold my breath the rest of the ride home, thinking for a girl who loves words, I’m pretty much the worst at articulating the first draft.
September 29
Nash Stevens
LOL remember when I said “Progress!” re: Halle? I take it back.
8:30 AM
You were right.
8:31 AM
As of today, I am officially done trying to be Halle’s friend.
8:32 AM
i’m sorry
8:33 AM
You’re not going to say “I told you so”?
8:33 AM
there are, in fact, some cases in which i don’t like gloating about being right. this happens to be one of them
8:34 AM
i DID, however, screenshot
“You were right” for future reference
8:34 AM
I set myself up for that
8:35 AM
seriously though—are you ok?
8:36 AM
Yeah.
8:36 AM
I always feel better when I’m talking to you.
8:36 AM
[typing]
TEN
Halle’s life has been particularly Not Great in the three weeks following the Rosh Hashanah disaster, but at least Kels is thriving.
It’s only been four days, and the Read Between the Lies cover reveal has already surpassed Fireflies and You in terms of most-liked OTP Instagram post. As of this morning, it has more than 200K likes. Ariel boosted the video on her personal Twitter account, which got the attention of other YA authors and publishers. My inbox is nuts right now—totally overflowing with cover reveal requests. Next level officially unlocked.
Read Between the Lies has been the perfect distraction from all things Fireflies and You. I know it’s temporary relief. Alanna will say something else to make everyone upset soon enough. But for now? I’m living for all the OTP love currently happening in the feed. Every time I check Twitter, I have more followers.
Creating content that people are content with? That makes people excited to read ? It’s the best feeling in the universe. It’s a feeling I’m going to write about in my NYU admissions essay. Once they see OTP, how much love goes into it and how much traction it receives? I know it’ll make up for the lack of traditional extracurriculars on my application. Who has time for student council or debate team when you’re actively pursuing your dreams?
Plus, it’s super validating, being able to bask in my success with my friends, given that Ollie is the only person I can talk to about this IRL.
Amy Chen
KELS! Bustle shared your post!
10:32 PM
Samira Lee
You’re going to be the go-to person for major reveals now—this is HUGE
10:34 PM
Elle Carter
… and lucky. Enjoy the break from Alanna angst while it lasts
10:34 PM
Samira Lee
IGNORE ELLE. YOU’RE THRIVING
10:34 PM
I cling to my online world and how great it feels to be Kels right now because IRL, time passes not in days of the week, but in Jewish holidays. I never knew how many important moments were crammed within the three weeks following Rosh Hashanah. Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah come one after another. Temple makes my stomach twist in unfamiliar knots because though I love it, ever since Rosh I’m feeling more and more like I don’t fit in with these people.
Molly and Nash are at every service. Nash pretends I don’t exist. It’s like, now he looks at me and he doesn’t even see me. I eat lunch in the library now, where I’m free to message him and my friends and work on OTP stuff. But now when I message Nash, I’m wondering what he’s talking about with Le Crew. It was too hard to keep sitting with them—too impossible to ignore Nash ignoring me. It hurt. And it’s the worst because it has no right to hurt—I asked for this. I wanted him to leave me alone.
It worked. Everything is great between Nash and Kels. Better than ever, theoretically. Except for the ways it isn’t. Nash is real now. He has a voice and a laugh and I can’t stop thinking about us on the swings and how good it felt, being able to talk about Grams with him.
How there are conversations I can have with Nash that Kels never could.
At least now it’s the first Saturday I’m free since the whirlwind of holidays, so I try to refocus on catching up with my mentions and chat with my friends.
Halle’s problems can wait until Monday.
There’s a knock on my door and I look up from my screen, expecting to see Ollie.
I blink.
It’s Gramps.
“Oh,” he coughs. “You’re still in your pajamas.”
Gramps is dressed before eleven on a Saturday. He’s wearing a green sweater over a white collared shirt and jeans. I’m so shocked by the clothes, it takes me a moment to meet his eyes, to register his face and see that the beard is gone. It’s just gone and Gramps looks put together for the first time in over a month—but he acts like it’s weird that I’m still in my pajamas?
“It’s Saturday,” I say slowly, trying to mask the emotion in my voice.
“We’re going to Ludlow’s. Get dressed. I’ll be in the car.”
Gramps is gone before I have a chance to catch my breath, to form words, to ask what the hell is going on. It’s the first time Gramps has looked at me, I mean, really looked at me, since I snapped in the car. I’d say we’ve been avoiding each other, but that’s pretty impossible. Whenever we’re in the same space though, just the two of us without Ollie, the tension is so thick, and neither of us breaks it.