Chapter 15 #2
You’ll still be pretty, he’d said. Still be. Present tense.
My insides felt like they were having a party.
I felt him begin to quickly braid the end of my hair, finished with the sectioning. He was almost done. “Why did you miss school today?”
“I was out late last night.”
“With someone?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
He hesitated like he wasn’t going to answer at first, and I felt my insides brace as if waiting for a blow.
“With my dad,” he replied. “My cousin’s been living with us these past few months because she’s having issues with her mom—my dad’s sister—and she kind of…
well, she didn’t tell us where she was going, so we were looking for her.
Dad called the office at school, though.
My absence was excused, so no worries there. ”
“Did you end up finding her?”
“Yeah. All’s okay.” He didn’t elaborate, but I understood why. It wasn’t his story to tell, but his cousin’s. “Gemma?”
He finished tying the braid, so I turned around to face him, trailing my fingers along the bumps in my hair. “Yeah?”
“Have your parents always been so strict?”
Just like how it felt every time Morgan brought up the subject, my first instinct was to wave it all away. My parents aren’t strict, I’d always tell her, to which her response would always be, If you do everything they say without questioning it, you wouldn’t know, would you?
“I think they’re just used to me going along with what they want for me. They’re used to me never questioning their decisions. I think some of the blame is on me, too, for never pushing back.”
“No one’s blaming anyone,” he said, leaning his elbow onto his knee and coming closer. “But if you can get in a lot of trouble just by spending time with me, maybe we should reconsider everything.”
“No.” I laid my hand on Hudson’s knee, pinning his leg down to keep him from standing up. “I don’t want to let them make this decision for me, too. I don’t want to care about the consequences.”
He stared at my splayed fingers on his sweatpants for a long moment before lifting his gaze to mine. “The thing about consequences is that you never really know what they’re going to be.”
“I won’t regret it.” The declaration rang true in my ears, certain as anything. This was going to be my choice, the first I’d ever made for myself. I refused to regret it. “You won’t either, right?”
Hudson dipped his pinky underneath my hand and curled it around mine, squeezing the promise between us. “Never.”
The mood was entirely different from when I’d first seen him, and it left me feeling bolstered in the decision.
There was relief, too—relief that he didn’t give up on me, that he would still be there.
But he wouldn’t be like everyone else. He wasn’t there to see what I could do for him—he was there to see what he could do for me.
And I wasn’t sure I’d ever really be able to let it go.
My last period class was Chemistry, which was really a junior class, but a few sophomores who were advanced got in.
I was one of them, and my table partner, Rosie, was the other.
Even though we also sat with each other at lunch, silence between us could still ring awkwardly, like we were two complete strangers.
She normally kept her head ducked during the hour, as if she was trying really hard to not make eye contact with anyone. Or maybe it was someone in particular.
Hopefully it wasn’t me. Clearing my throat during the last ten minutes while we were working on a worksheet, I leaned over an inch. “Hey, Rosie?”
She looked up, setting down her pencil. “Yeah?”
I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, the loud beep of the intercom kicked on, followed by a voice of one of the secretaries. “Attention all JV and varsity football players: practice for today is canceled due to the rain.”
Some boys in the back let out a loud whoop of excitement, and I turned to find a few of them out of their seats, grinning. There was a boy looking in my direction, but then I realized—he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was on the seat beside me.
“Did you have a question, Gemma?” Rosie asked as she scanned her worksheet, unaware of the gaze on her. “I’m crap at explaining science, but I can try to help if you’re stuck.”
I slowly pivoted toward the front. “It’s not about science. It’s about…fashion.”
Rosie tucked her fringe behind her ear, attention piquing. “Fashion?”
“I’ve been wanting to upgrade my style, and you have the best fashion sense of anyone I know.”
It was true, too. The way she layered her cardigans and sweaters always looked so cute that I was jealous.
Even today, all she wore was a pink tank with a white cardigan over her shoulders, but it was still really pretty.
It was like she was always fashionable without trying.
I watched Rosie’s face light up with the compliment, and I knew that was all I needed to break the awkward ice between us—to find common ground with her.
“I think I want to get rid of my skirts,” I went on, glancing down at the light blue floral one I wore now. “But it’s so hard to find a pair of jeans that fit my waist and my thighs.”
“I like your skirts. I think they suit you.” Rosie reached over and smoothed a wrinkle near my knee, tilting her head as she analyzed it.
“Long skirts can sometimes make people look shorter, but since you’re tall, you can pull it off.
Normally, if you wear a loose, flowing skirt, you’ll want a tighter top.
You wear loose, oversized shirts with it, so it sort of swamps you.
Cropped sweaters or shirts would even work great, honestly, because it balances everything out and you can flash your tummy a little while you’re at it. ” Rosie winked at me.
I turned to my Chemistry worksheet with a little laugh. “I feel like I should be taking notes.”
“It’s not that hard. I learned everything I know from magazines, honestly.
Without Seventeen, I’d probably still be wearing polka-dots and stripes at the same time.
” Rosie went back to analyzing my outfit, taking note of the top I wore before going to my skirt.
“There are some prints that might look better as shorter skirts, though. Like this one.”
“How short?”
Rosie hit the side of her hand at the middle of my thigh. “Long enough for school, of course, but short enough to show off some of those long legs. Plus, your oversized shirts and sweaters would look better with a shorter skirt. Your bare skin would balance it out.”
I had a sort of epiphany moment then. Cropping my skirts.
Why had it never occurred to me? When I made my skirts, I always hemmed them long—the shortest I’d ever go was above my ankle.
Why had I never thought to go shorter? I looked down at my legs, hidden beneath the fabric, and did the same as Rosie did.
I cut the side of my hand on my leg, trying to picture what it’d look like with all the skin from there down exposed.
Would Mom ever let me do it, though?
Would she ever have to know? a soft voice in my head whispered.
The bell rang as I contemplated it, and Rosie was slow to collect her things. “I have a few cropped sweaters and stuff that I don’t wear anymore. My sisters usually get all my hand-me-downs, but I can bring a few in for you, if you want.”
Instinctively, I wanted to tell her to not worry about it, that I didn’t want to inconvenience her, but I stopped myself. “That would be great, honestly.”
Rosie lingered at the blacktop table while I walked out of the science room, heart drumming excitedly with all the possibilities.
I had so many skirts I could crop and re-hem, and it wouldn’t even take me that long.
Already, I could picture ones that would look best shorter, ones with busier prints like Rosie suggested.
I also smiled at the idea of breaking the ice with her, and hoped that would make for more conversations in the future.
She would technically count as my first friend outside of Mom’s premade social circle, and it felt like a huge win.
As I was turning the corner to leave the west wing and head toward the senior lockers, I collided with someone tall and hard, nearly ricocheting off their chest. I would’ve, too, if their hand hadn’t shot out, grabbing my forearm to steady me. When I looked up, recognition flared. “Connor.”
“Gemma,” Connor greeted warmly, eyes wide and breath quick. Almost like he’d been running. He had an Algebra II textbook tucked underneath his arm, and he hurried to press it against his chest. “Sorry, I should know better than to tear around the corner.”
“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “I can see why you’re a football player, though. You nearly knocked me over.”
He laughed good-naturedly, patting me on the upper arm before he made a move to brush past me. I wasn’t sure where he was going, since the west wing only had classrooms, but I wasn’t going to ask. At the last second, though, I stopped him. “Connor. Can I ask you a quick question?”
“Sure. I can try to give you a quick answer.”
“Do you know the fight my brother was in freshman year?” I watched the wariness enter his eyes, but he ultimately nodded. “Who all was involved? Do you know?”
“Any reason why you’re randomly curious?”
“Gossip purposes, of course.”
He laughed a little, gaze turning thoughtful as he tapped his Algebra II textbook. “So, I think it was your brother, Ashton Shaw, Kyle Filmore. And then Hudson, of course.”
I blinked. “Just Hudson? Like, he didn’t have any help?”
“I think so.”
Why would Hudson have gone up to them, three against one? Sure, Landon was much lankier as a freshman than he was now, but still. Three against one?
“Do you know why it happened? Like…what started it?”
Connor shook his head apologetically. “The guys don’t really talk about it, you know? Since they got their asses handed to them. I only know what rumors people spread, so I don’t even know if that’s really what happened or not. You haven’t asked your brother?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.” Not that I asked, but I already knew what his answer would be. “He thinks I’m a dainty, fragile girl who faints at the thought of violence.”
Connor’s grin was wide. “That’s Landon for you. He plays the big brother role well, doesn’t he?”
“He’s pretty good at it,” I allowed, and then took a step back. “Well, I should get going. Have a good rest of your day.”
Connor tipped his head in goodbye and continued on his way with his textbook, heading toward the west staircase.
I started walking toward my locker, thinking.
That conversation didn’t leave me feeling any more enlightened than before about Hudson’s fight with my brother, only more confused.
I guessed the only way to find out the truth was to go to the source—either Landon or Hudson—but I couldn’t even imagine broaching the topic with either of them.
Landon would be way too suspicious, since that’d be the second time I was asking him about Hudson, and Hudson… I was too afraid of his answer.
So, what? my thoughts demanded. You’re going to stick your head in the sand about it and pretend it didn’t happen?
It sounded like a good idea, didn’t it?
The area around my locker was empty when I got to it, for once, without Morgan or Jaden hanging around.
I fished around in my small backpack pocket for my phone, brushing past mechanical pencils and something cold and metal before I found it.
A text from Landon was waiting for me when I pressed the button.
Landon
You heard practice was canceled, right? Do you still have your mentoring?
I wasn’t really sure why he texted me instead of coming to ask me in person, but it made me roll my eyes.
Gemma
Yes, I do. Can you come in an hour and pick me up?
Landon
sounds good. Happy mentoring
I slid the keyboard into my phone, stuffing it into my backpack pocket. As I did, though, this time I felt the piece of paper I’d left in there. I knew exactly what it was when I touched it, but I pulled it out and unfolded it anyway.
Gemma’s Rebellion List
The last thing we’d checked off almost a week ago was to go see a scary movie, so it felt like the perfect time to cross out another. I scanned the list for the perfect one. Skip a class, paint my nails, try coffee…
I drew my lower lip into my mouth as I locked onto one of my bullet points, knowing it was perfect. In my head, I began to sift through pieces of a plan, trying to fit them together into the perfect puzzle.
That was how Hudson found me, his backpack over his shoulder. “What are you concentrating so hard on?” he asked, looking down at the paper I held in my hand. “Thinking about adding to it?”
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked without hesitation, folding the sheet up and putting it back into my bag.
“Tonight?”
“I think it’s time to check the next thing off.” I leaned in close to whisper the words, and even though they were quiet, the thrill that went through me wasn’t. It warmed my skin, the anticipation of it all. “I think it’s time to sneak out.”