This is not a love story.
This is not even a hate story.
This is a cautionary tale.
I drive after her.
I stop when I realize she’s gone to another bus station.
I curse. A lot.
I make a U-turn.
I want to call her, my finger hovering over her name on my phone.
I don’t.
I do.
I hang up.
Headmaster Charles is calling me. I don’t answer.
Shelly is calling me. I hit ignore.
My mother is calling me. I pick up.
“You need to come for your father’s birthday.” Her voice throws me off-kilter. No hello. No how are you? No nothing.
“You need to delete my number and forget I ever existed,” I retort.
“Maybe. Let’s talk about it in person.” This is so like my mother it’s not even funny. I sigh. It’s not like I have anything better to do.
“When?”
She gives me the time and the place. Says she’ll text me her full Orange County address. I haven’t visited since Gwen died.
“Is something wrong?” she asks after we’re done. I’m driving in circles. I’m thinking in circles. I shake my head, even though she can’t see it.
“No. Not something.” I laugh bitterly. “Everything. Everything is wrong.”
“I’m going out. Bus money is on the counter,” Ryan shouts from the kitchen as I trying to mentally talk myself into getting out of bed. For the past couple of weeks, he’s been leaving me money for lunch and the bus whenever Christian doesn’t stay over and take me. “Figured you wouldn’t want me or my bike anywhere near your school.”
Not only has he been taking care of lunch and bus money, but he’s even working on fixing the old Firebird up so I can have it. I don’t think Ryan is doing better financially. In fact, he claims to have given up slanging drugs and guns—and pissed more than a few people off in the process—so he’s probably hurting for cash. I think he gives up his own stuff to make sure I have everything I need. And it makes me feel even worse.
“Thanks, Ry,” I call out, burying my face deeper into my pillow.
“Love you, Rem.”
“Love you, too.” And I do. Even though a big part of my heart is broken from Pierce, the other half that belongs to Ryan is starting to flicker back to life and fill with hope for the first time in a long time. Seeing him like this reminds me of one of my favorite memories of him.
“You ready, Rem?” Ry asks, grabbing his board out of the back of his Firebird. I grab mine, too, a hand-me-down from Ryan, and we walk toward the skate park.
“Why do you always gotta bring her? I thought we were going to pick up some skate park sluts,” Ryan’s friend, Ethan, complains from inside the chain-link fence. I roll my eyes and flip him off.
“Because I fucking want to. I’m teaching he
r how to ollie today. Ain’t that right, Rem?” Ryan says with a wink in my direction, his blond hair shining in the sun.