Sweet Dandelion

It’s such a blatant reminder of what he said moments ago about losing his job if someone learned about us.

Both of us watch the janitor, and when his eyes swing back to mine they’re immeasurably sad.

It reminds me so much of what he said to me in his apartment, that he can’t be with me in the light.

Another little piece of my heart crumbles.

Chapter Forty-One

“I hate this class so much,” Sasha whispers under her breath, passing me a worksheet.

I nod my head in agreement. I hate Sociology too. Honestly, I thought this class might be vaguely interesting, but I was wrong. The teacher is a tiny dictator, and the work is annoying.

“At least that one movie was interesting,” I remark, passing the papers to the student behind me. “You know, the one based on the play or whatever with the little girl who kills people.”

“But it was black and white.” She shudders like this is the most blasphemous thing.

“Well, it was an old movie.” I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

“Filling out the page in front of you does not require talking, ladies,” Mrs. Kauffman calls out, giving the two of us a withering glare.

I press my lips tightly together and Sasha glowers at Mrs. Kauffman’s turned back.

The worksheet takes the majority of the class period to fill out, which is quite the feat considering it’s a ninety-minute class.

When the bell rings, the whole class can’t leave fast enough and piles the completed papers on her desk.

Sasha and I walk out together. She clasps her Sociology textbook to her chest. Mrs. Kauffman insists we bring them to each and every class, but we’ve yet to crack open the spine. We spend more time with the dictionary than anything else.

“This week can’t end fast enough.” We descend the steps along with the onslaught of other students eager to go home. “I’m so ready for Christmas vacation.”

I don’t comment. What would I say anyway? I’ll be alone the majority of the time, so I’m not particularly looking forward to it, but it will be fun to exchange gifts with Sage on Christmas day.

“I’m sure that’ll be nice.”

“Mhmm,” she hums, and starts rattling on about Manhattan, the other boroughs, and everything she can’t wait to do—mostly shopping.

We part outside when she heads to the student lot.

I board my bus, and sit beside a kid I think is a freshman.

I’m a senior, older than a senior, riding the bus.

My hands flex on my lap. I could tell Sage I’m ready for a car, I know he’d be thrilled and get me one in a heartbeat. We sold my first car before I moved here with him. There was no point in keeping it, especially when I wouldn’t drive it anyway. But something keeps stopping me from seeking the freedom a car would give me.

It’s at least ten minutes before the doors finally close on the bus and we pull away from the school. We bump along and I give my seat partner an apologetic smile when my body knocks his.

When I finally reach my stop, I can’t get out fast enough. My boots slosh through the gray snow as I trek up the street to the condominium building. Reaching the warmth of the lobby sends a shiver through my chilled body.

Catching the elevator, I finally make it to Sage’s apartment and let myself in.

I hate the empty quiet that surrounds me. I still haven’t grown used to it. Dropping my backpack on the floor, I turn the TV on for some background noise.

I have some homework to complete so I pull out what I need from my bag, spreading the books and papers over the coffee table so I can get it done.

Piles of homework are the bane of my existence so I do my best to not let it get out of control. Because we missed a whole week, the teachers overloaded us today, which is especially sucky considering Christmas break is next week.

Sitting on the floor, I sift through the assignments choosing the one I know I can finish the quickest.