Writing so I could remember.
Writing so I could let go and forget.
“What is this?” Jaime frowns at the journal. I think he thinks it’s the original one Daria had. But that shit burned to the ground with the snake pit.
“Some stuff I wrote for her. Don’t read it.”
“You know I will.” He laughs.
“Whatever, asshole,” I groan. “So, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Send it to her!” I roar. He is playing with me, and I fucking hate it.
Jaime looks up at the ceiling and pretends to think about it. “If you start acting like a human being and not like a zombie, maybe.”
We shake on it, and for the first time since I’ve met him, my shake is harder than his.
How sweet must it be
To look into your eyes again and see
If I’m killing you like you’re ruining me
My apartment is beautiful.
Off-campus, it is new, large, and spacious. When I first came here with Dad, it looked pretty bland, but then Melody sent out an interior designer, Tiffanie, and things kind of picked up. I grew to like the place, even if it’s completely new to me.
It’s been three months since I came here. Two since Dad came for a visit personally to give me Penn’s journal. I am not one for self-control. I immediately read the whole thing, then did it again, and again, and again.
A million times, I wanted to pick up the phone, call him, and tell him to come to me.
A trillion times, I simply wanted to purchase a ticket and go back to Todos Santos to his still-open arms.
But every single time, I slammed that idea, knowing that now was not the time for us to be together, and that we needed to stay focused. I’m attending high school here, and Melody or Dad fly out here once every two weeks to spend the weekend with me. I’m slowly learning to get used to calling Mel Mom again, but baby steps.
I don’t feel particularly alone here. It’s a college town, and all my neighbors are twenty-one or below. There are Rich and Welcott, and Beth and Fiona, who I seem to be getting along with really well. Beth and Fiona have Mel on speed dial and vice versa. They get their grocery shopping for free, and in exchange for that, they promised to snitch me out if I throw a party or bring a boy to the apartment. As if. Like I ever would.
Melody says things are getting better at home, and I’m not surprised. Someone needed to step back and let us all heal, and that someone had to be me. I’m not bitter to be making this sacrifice. I want Penn to have a strong relationship with his sister. Knight, Vaughn, and Luna text my new cell phone almost every day. So far Knight’s reported that Vaughn dumped Esme after her confession, Blythe somehow managed to kick her off the cheer team and became captain, and Colin made sure his father went to visit Camilo at the hospital, and they are going to pay for his first year of college. Vaughn said Gus got thrown off the football team for using steroids trying to get bigger and more desirable for scouts and decided to drop out of school. No one knows where he is, and quite frankly, no one really cares. Via has parted ways with the cheer squad after everything that went down, and apparently, she is hanging out with the freaks and geeks of senior year. It made me laugh, and I could hardly even believe it. Luna, who is not big on gossip, texts me that Bailey misses me and talks about me all the time. She sends me fun facts about where I live to try to get me more amped up about the place.
Luna: Word is you have the best popcorn in the States. Make sure to get white popcorn and pop it in the Whirley Pop I’m shipping you.
Luna: Garfield the cat lives there. Give him a squeeze from me.
Luna: Sent you two tickets to the circus via snail mail. GO! It’s supposed to be awesome.
Luna: Also sent you a coupon for that breaded pork tenderloin place you have to try. Try it and let me know, okay?
Bitch is vegetarian, and knows I’d die before using coupons (I think she is the only person in Todos Santos who even knows what they are), but I appreciate the effort, so I always text her back. I think I’m finally getting over the fact she is magic, and I’m real, but maybe being real is no less magical.
I put on my coat, scarf, and beanie and take the keys from the ugly bowl by the door. I got it in a souvenir store. It’s shaped like a golden football helmet. I walk out into the crisp winter day, watching my boots crush semi-dirty snow that’s wilting on the sidewalks. The sky is gray, the trees are white, and the campus is quietly getting back to its post-Christmas routine. I know I’m not thinking any of this through, and that I should turn around before I see them. If I even see them. But I can’t help myself. Seeing Penn burns in me so bad, I can’t even feel the cold that’s kept me tucked in my apartment for much of the past few weeks. I’m shivering with adrenaline, and my stomach churns as I swallow down my nerves.
I stand behind the statue of Jesus in front of the campus when I watch Penn and Dad on the steps of the beautiful building.
Penn is taller than Dad. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that. Broader, too. And my dad is a big guy. They look like they’re arguing. Penn shakes his head, pacing back and forth. He is saying no, but I’m not sure what to. My father is trying to reason with him—they are almost playing a slow-motion catch—but Penn refuses to relent and descends the stairs fast.
I want to run to him and ask him if everything is okay, but I don’t have the guts.
I want to follow him and see if he breaks down and if he needs me, but I’m too scared.
Instead, I take out my phone and text Dad.
Is Penn okay?
He is nowhere in sight now, and I’m getting worried. Edgy. I hate this.
Dad: You can go to him and see for yourself.
I can, but I won’t.
Because I know that no matter how hard it is right now, we were toxic while we were together.
Instead, I turn around and walk back home. Clutching my coat tight, I wrap it more firmly around my chest so the wind won’t slip in.
After all, I have a hole in my shirt the size of Penn’s heart.
The day after, I sit on my cold patio and read Penn’s journal. The pages are wrinkled and yellow, and the spine is almost completely ruined. I need duplicates before I destroy this one. But I’m not ready to replace the real thing with a copy. I flip through the pages, noting the change in his attitude and feelings from his first entry, right after the fight with Vaughn at the snake pit, to the last entries when we were both ripped apart by our feelings. I reread my favorite poem from him.
You’re tearing confessions from my mouth
Reactions from my flesh
Fights from my fists
Blood from my heart
With your eyes alone
Sometimes I want to break the wall I built between us
Let you in
And watch you destroy me
I smile at his bravery. Penn never much cared about getting hurt. Even when he was the tin man, even when his heart was just a faint beat, merely surviving and not doing much else, he always gave me a run for my money. It is stupid, if not completely awful, that I’m too scared to love him.
Too terrified to get hurt.
More than anything—I’m too unsure of myself to know I wouldn’t screw it up.
I hear low growls from the balcony and tip my head forward, peeking down. I live on the main street right in front of quaint, super-pastoral shops. I watch as Penn and Dad come out of a Starbucks. They look like they’re fighting.