Chapter 24
The Hope
Jenna
Age twelve
I glance back as I head for the stage, finding Killian in the crowd.
I nearly stumble on the first step up to the stage, but I look back again as I start walking up the stairs.
He watches me with that same cruel expression he always wears, but I smile anyway.
He needs smiles. He never looks happy. Neither does his dad.
He always seems just as cold. But at least he’s here.
A stab of sadness makes me draw a heavy sigh as I take the silver trophy from the man who just announced my name.
I wish Mom were here to see this—my first competition, my first trophy.
I begged her to come when she followed me to the bus, but she didn’t even answer.
She just gave me strict instructions on how to cross the street and which bus to take back, then walked away. She didn’t even stay to wave goodbye.
I glance down at Killian and his dad again. Killian sticks out his tongue, and it makes me smile. I miss when he stood up for me and it was Callum he stuck his tongue out at. Either way, I’m happy about whatever attention I get from him. I know he doesn’t hate me. Not truly. He’s just sad.
I stand beside the girl who won the bronze trophy and wait for the announcer to read the last name on the card.
“And the winner is Killian Ashcroft.”
I make a happy little bounce, beaming at Killian. His dad ruffles his hair and says something with a smile I rarely see on him. But Killian doesn’t smile. He just gets up, adjusts his tie as if he were a grown man, and walks toward the stage with his chin high.
I can’t stop watching him, following him all the way as he goes, and when he passes me on the stage, I draw a deep inhale through my nose to catch a whiff of his scent.
He casts me a cruel glare just before he takes the golden trophy, but I don’t care.
I’m so happy for him, and I hope the trophy will make him happy as well.
He needs it. Maybe, just maybe, it will finally make him smile again.
When he moves to stand beside me as the crowd starts clapping and the announcer signals for us all to bow, I want to reach out and take his hand. I miss the feeling. So much. But I can only take so much rejection from him, so I just lean in when we straighten and say, “You won, congratulations.”
He casts me a sidelong look, cold and indifferent as always, but deep down, he must be bouncing with joy. He has to be. I know the happy boy is still in there somewhere. I’m just waiting for him to come out.