CHAPTER 11 #3
“Would you have told me the truth?” I asked, cutting him off. “If we hadn’t checked our portals together, and Theo hadn’t looked over your shoulder, would you have told me you got in?”
Jamie’s shoulders fell, his body swaying with the sudden loss of tension.
His expression was empty, void of the passion that’d twisted in his eyes a moment ago.
My question was useless in a way, because I already knew the answer.
Even when we’d checked our portals, Jamie had tried lying to my face about it. His answer would not be a surprise.
“No,” Jamie said finally. His voice was quieter now, no longer hot and defensive. Just tired. “I wouldn’t have.”
Our words lingered like an echo between us, a sound I could still hear in my ears. This was why the college conversation was so forbidden—it cut us both to shreds. And even still, I wanted to go on, to demand more answers and refuse to let him back down until we were both bloody.
Would you have told me the truth?
No. I wouldn’t have. But why didn’t you apply to other schools?
Because I was afraid.
I was afraid of dreaming of other things. I was afraid of having to choose.
It’d never occurred to me to be afraid of having more than one rejection, or else that would’ve been a fear, too.
In the end, we didn’t have the chance to carry on the argument, anyway.
Mom’s car pulled into the driveway, expertly dodging the giant pothole in the middle of the asphalt.
Our eyes met through the windshield, and when she put the car in park, she opened her door.
“Is that Jamie I see?” she asked warmly, clearly not reading the atmosphere.
Jamie, though, gave her no reason to question. “Hi, Mrs. Carmichael,” he replied in the same friendly tone, even going as far to offer her a smile.
Sure, he’d smile for her right after he’d finished arguing with me.
Mom shut her car door, hoisting her purse strap up her arm. “Are you staying for dinner, Jamie?”
Dinner that she wasn’t going to cook. I was. Mom rarely cooked anymore, opting to sit and chat with the girls while I was in the kitchen. I felt like a teapot about to scream. “He was just heading out,” I answered for Jamie, wrapping my arms tighter around myself as if it could hold me together.
Jamie just ducked his head, feigning innocence from my anger in front of Mom. He stepped down another stair, onto the sidewalk. “Yeah, I should get going. Glad I got to say hello, Mrs. Carmichael.”
When Jamie turned his back, I felt worse, almost as if he took all my frustration with him. The look on his face haunted me, one I’d never seen him wear before. Turn around, I willed to Jamie, digging my nails into my arms. Don’t leave when we’re still upset.
But our Bestie Telepathy didn’t work, and Jamie continued down the sidewalk until he was out of view.
“Did something happen?” Mom asked as she came up the steps, frowning. “You were a little rude with him.”
I let her brush past me, knowing she wouldn’t look twice at my expression. “It’s fine.”
And, like always, she didn’t push further. She just opened the front door to the excitement of her children waiting for her, leaving me forgotten on the porch.
I stood there for a long time, swaying in the light breeze as if it could knock me over. A part of me wished I could swallow my pride and go after Jamie, preferring anger to the sick feeling in my stomach. Dread. Despair. Darkness—and it swirled in closer.
I’d felt it first in the weeks after Dad died, a sort of crushing anguish at the realization that this was my life now.
A life without a father, a mostly absent mother, and four children needing my attention.
All the time. I’d grown used to pushing it back and back, at forcing my chin high and my voice light.
But now, with the little voices in the house excited that Mom was home and Jamie’s haunted expression in my mind, it pressed in.
Would you have told me the truth?
No. I wouldn’t have.
How long would he have dragged it out? Technically, he’d still be off to New York City in the fall, but would he have continued the lie through the semester?
Until I came to visit, and he’d have to scramble to explain why he couldn’t give me a tour of the NYU campus?
Would he have put me off time and time again until I stopped asking?
I can’t be mad at you for giving up on your dream. Maybe I did. But it was easier to give up than to build the hope only for it to be crushed later.
“Daisy.” Penn’s voice was in the doorway behind me, calling me back from the edge. “Can I help you with dinner tonight?”
I opened my eyes, resignation settling the dark feeling down and putting it back to sleep.
“Sure.” Later, I’d marvel at the fact that Penn even offered.
Now, though, I latched onto her as if she were a lifeline.
I turned around, giving Penn a smile as I dropped my arms to my sides.
As long as she didn’t look closely, she wouldn’t see the little half-moons I’d left in my skin. “Whatcha have in mind?”