Chapter 10
Nothing could drown out the sound of Cara’s voice, how it had been laden with anger, but the scream of Bionic Bone’s front man, Freddie K, blaring from my stereo came pretty close. Since our fight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said.
“Stella!”
There was movement at the edge of my peripherals, and I glanced up to see Drew. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, waving his hands to get my attention. He looked exasperated, and I wondered how long he had been standing there before I noticed him.
“What?” I shouted over the music. Drew’s lips moved as he said something, but I couldn’t make out his words. “What?” I yelled again.
Rolling his eyes, Drew stormed across my room and paused my iPod, cutting Freddie K off midshriek. “Why do you listen to that stuff?” he asked, grimacing as he twisted his finger in his ear.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a year’s worth of old photos spread out on the carpet around me.
When we moved to Rochester, I had dumped everything into boxes, and now I was sorting through the mess, organizing by date as a way to distract myself.
“I find it calming,” I said, looking back down at my work. “How was orientation?”
“It was fun. Took a tour of campus, figured out my schedule. That sort of stuff,” Drew said. “What about you? How was your day?”
My back stiffened when he changed the subject to me. “It was fine.” I picked up another photograph and took a moment to examine it so he wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable I felt. “Nothing exciting. Ate lunch with Dad. Binged on Netflix.”
“Stella,” Drew said. “I already spoke with Cara.”
“Oh.” Setting the picture down on a stack of black-and-whites, I sighed. “And she told you everything?”
Drew crossed his arms as he leaned against my dresser. “Pretty much.”
“So you’re here to yell at me?” When I’d decided to defer from school, Drew had made his disapproval quite clear. He liked to remind me every time an opportunity presented itself, and I had a feeling this would be one of those occasions.
“Why would I yell at you?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Because you think I’m being stupid?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Rocket.”
“But?” With my siblings, there was always a “but.”
“This is what makes you happy,” he said, gesturing at the collection of memories that blanketed the floor. “I’m struggling to understand why you would turn down a job where you can do what you love.”
I didn’t have a response, at least not one he wanted to hear, so I lowered my gaze. “Being here with Cara is more important.”
“No,” Drew said, and the force in his voice made me glance back up. He pushed away from the dresser and crouched down next to me. “I’m not saying Cara isn’t important, but forget about her for a second. Pretend she isn’t sick. Would you still turn down the job?”
His question bore down on me, and I closed my eyes as if it would help me avoid answering. “Why does that even matter?”
“Because you’re asking the wrong question.”
“Yeah?” I said, my eyes snapping open. “And what question should I be asking, Drew?”
“Ask yourself what you’re so afraid of.”
His response shut me up, and I pressed my face into my hands as I shook my head. “How do you expect me to answer that?”
“You should take the job,” he said. “Otherwise you’re never going to figure that out.” He squeezed my shoulder and then left me with my thoughts.
***
I looked at my alarm clock. “Ugh, come on,” I groaned.
Grabbing my pillow, I fluffed it up and flipped onto my other side, trying to find a comfortable position in bed. It was past midnight and I was trying to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t slow down or allow me to drift off.
Since our fight, I’d avoided Cara. I knocked on her bedroom in the morning to try to patch things up, but she refused to talk to me “unless,” she said, “you’re here to tell me you accepted Paul’s offer.
” In fact, she was so mad that she threatened to never speak to me again unless I took the job.
I hadn’t, but I hadn’t declined either. Regardless, she kicked me out.
Three full days later, and I was no closer to knowing whether I should stay or go.
All I needed to do was choose, and even though I’d never been an indecisive person, any attempt to make up my mind seemed futile.
Decision-making had always been so straightforward for me: yes or no, black or white, Pepsi or Coke.
Maybe that was because I was impulsive, jumping into things headfirst and listening to my heart.
But what was I supposed to do when my heart wanted two conflicting things?
Ask yourself what you’re so afraid of.
Drew’s question kept swimming through my thoughts, and as hard as I tried to drown out his words, they refused to sink, instead choosing to tread the turbulent surface of my mind with fierce determination.
“Dammit!” I said and threw off my covers when I realized sleeping was pointless. As I climbed out of bed, I stepped on something sharp—probably a hair clip—and a colorful string of swear words erupted from my mouth.
My room had fallen into neglect over the past three days, and I was sick of it.
I flipped the light on, squinting as my eyes adjusted, and then started cleaning at random.
My collection of post-hardcore CDs, which normally lived in a stack next to my stereo, was strewn across my desk.
I had yanked them out while searching for Bionic Bones the other night.
It took me a few minutes to order them the way I liked, all-time favorites to least, and then I moved on to my clothes.
It looked like my dresser had vomited onto the floor.
Not knowing what was dirty, I sniff-tested everything I picked up, folding some items and chucking others into the hamper.
I worked in a heated sort of manner, tearing around my room like a Happy Meal wind-up toy that would lose steam at any moment. When I’d finally burned through my frustration, there was a slick layer of sweat on my forehead, but my room was restored to its normal organization.
“Stella?” Drew pushed open my bedroom door, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He didn’t bother to cover his yawn. “What are you doing?”
“Crap. Did I wake you?” I glanced at the clock again: 2:17 a.m.
He nodded. “You were slamming drawers and stuff.”
“Sorry. I went on a midnight, can’t-sleep-for-the-life-of-me cleaning spree.”
“That’s chill. I thought maybe—” Drew stopped and lifted an eyebrow. “Stella, are you…packing?”
“Packing?” I repeated with a frown. “No.” But then I looked at my bed and saw what Drew did.
Five neat piles of clothes covered the basics: shirts, shorts, underwear, and so on; my camera bag was packed with all my equipment, camera resting beside it; a colorful collection of eye shadow and lipstick was inside my zebra-print makeup bag; and last was a Ziploc bag full of my favorite jewelry. All I needed now was a suitcase.
“I-I…” I was more than speechless, so I just stood there feeling my heart slam repeatedly into my chest. How had I done all this without realizing?
Drew noticed my sharp mood shift and took a step toward me. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly and held up his hand. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just curious.”
“It’s not okay,” I exclaimed and pointed at the stuff on my bed. “How can it be okay when I didn’t even realize I was doing that? My head is all over the place, Drew. The more I try to make up my mind, the more anxious I get, and I can literally feel my heart stressing itself out.”
“I’m sorry,” Drew said and pulled me into his arms. “Just take a few deep breaths.”
So I listened to him. In and out I breathed. The first few lungfuls were shaky, and it took me a few minutes to calm down, but with my head buried in Drew’s shoulder, I could hear the thump-thump of his heartbeat and I focused on that.
Finally, I worked up the courage to mumble into his shirt: “How am I supposed to do this?”
“Do what?” he asked and pulled away so he could see me.
“Leave,” I said, my voice cracking. “Be on my own.”
Drew tilted his head as he worked out what I meant, while I looked away.
I’d missed a sock while cleaning. It was poking out from under my bed, and I concentrated on its crumpled form instead of my embarrassment.
Drew probably thought I was being silly, because what eighteen-year-old was afraid of leaving home?
“You know,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed and pulling me down next to him, “I’m nervous too.”
I swallowed and turned back to him. “Nervous?”
“About going to college.”
“You are?” What did Drew have to be nervous about? He would only be a quick drive away from home, and we would see him every weekend.
“How could I not be?” he said. “I mean, what if I’m not smart enough, or my roommate is a weirdo? And what will happen if I don’t make any friends and miss home too much?”
“So don’t go,” I said, even though I knew I was being ridiculous.
Drew laughed. “I’m excited to leave,” he told me. “The nerves—that’s all part of the experience. You just gotta trust that the good will make up for the scary.”
This made sense, but something still wasn’t sitting right with me. “I was excited when Paul first called me,” I admitted, “but then I thought about being away from you and Cara, and I panicked. It’s always been us, together.”
Drew smiled. “The Three Musketeers.”
“Exactly.”
“It’ll still be the three of us,” Drew said, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Being in different places won’t change that.”
“I know,” I said, staring blankly ahead of me.
“Even if you were on the moon.” He held out his pinkie. “I promise.”
Drew was right. The nerves I felt about leaving home were just that—nerves. Which would be manageable except for the awful, nagging feeling that I just couldn’t shake.
It was like this: I’m standing on the shore looking out at the ocean.
It’s all a bit familiar, maybe because I’m reminded of the coast in South Carolina.
The sun’s beating down on me, and the more I start to sweat, the more I want to peel off my clothes and dive in.
But there are all these signs posted along the beach warning swimmers of deadly rip currents.
Sure, the water looks peaceful enough, but even though I can’t see the danger below the surface, it’s still lying in wait to sweep me away.
That’s how I felt about accepting Paul’s job offer.
I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me so much—it was a blind spot, the danger under the calm.
But I knew it was there, and I was terrified of drowning in it.
Then again, taking a photography job wasn’t comparable to swimming in treacherous waters.
Doing something for myself wasn’t going to kill me.
I’d asked myself what I was so afraid of, but I drew a blank every time.
And that was almost as terrifying as the thought of leaving.
So even though it felt wrong, there was only one thing left for me to do—take another piece of my brother’s advice.
Because if I didn’t accept the job, I’d never figure out what really was lurking below the surface.
I slowly wrapped my pinkie around his. “I think I should call Paul.”
“You should,” Drew said and laughed, “but you might want to wait until morning. I doubt he’d appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night.”