7. Kelsey
Chapter seven
Kelsey
When I returned home after my shift at Liberty Diner that afternoon, I found a notice on my apartment door, informing me I’d missed a package delivery. Apparently, Arlene had signed for it, so I went over to her door and knocked.
Arlene opened with a smile. “There you are, sweetheart. You’re here to pick up your delivery, aren’t you?”
“Thank you for signing for it, Arlene.”
“You’re welcome. Let me get it for you real quick.”
A moment later, she returned with a brown carton box with a red logo printed on it. Arlene hesitated for a moment before handing over the package. She pointed at the logo.
“Apex Academic Books,” Arlene read out loud. “I know I’m terribly nosy, but what do you need them for?”
I felt myself blush. “I… I’m taking a shot at getting my GED. It’s probably a waste of time, but Izzy says I’ll lose my job at the diner if I don’t pass the exam by the end of the year, so I’m at least giving it a try.”
Arlene touched my hand and smiled. “Don’t talk yourself down like this. I’m sure you’ll do great. ”
“I don’t know, Arlene. Apex Academics… I’m not much of an academic, am I? It will probably go nowhere.”
“Nonsense. You have a good head on your shoulders. I’m sure if you apply yourself, you’ll get that GED in no time. I wish I could help you, but I barely made it to graduation myself, and that was in the sixties! But maybe Leah…”
I shook my head. “Leah has done so much for me already, and she has enough balls to juggle without playing teacher for me. No, I have to do this on my own.”
With the heavy box under my arm, I returned to my own apartment. All I wanted was a shower then a couple of episodes of Hope Hospital , my favorite hospital TV drama, with a tub of ice cream on my lap, but those pesky Apex Academic study guides were waiting for me.
I kicked off my shoes, took off my bra, and sat down at the small table I’d recently acquired from a friendly middle-aged couple that were giving it away for free on Brightwater’s ConnectBook group.
With a weary sigh, I ripped open the box and pulled out the first book. It had a yellow graduation cap on the cover. Apex Academic Study Guide: Science was the title.
No, science was probably not a good starting point. I needed something less brain-breaking to ease back in with, so I put the book aside and grabbed another one. This one was red, the same cap on the cover—social studies. Oh no, the boring stuff, not a good place to start either. I put that one down too. My stomach was grumbling.
You can’t study with an empty stomach, right? So I decided to eat something first. The contents of my fridge were a pathetic sight. I’d worked so many shifts at the diner that I’d forgotten to buy groceries. Gosh, I was really struggling with the whole adulting gig. No way could I cook an edible meal out of what was left in my fridge, so I resigned myself to a cheese-and-ham sandwich with a chocolate pudding two days past the expiration date for dessert.
I put on an episode of Hope Hospital to spice up my meager meal, and soon enough, I was so caught up in the love life of the fictional doctors and nurses that one episode had turned into three, and I only noticed how much time had passed when it was so dark I had to turn the light on. With a curse, I turned off the TV, put my dirty plate in the sink, and went back to my desk, still undecided about where to start.
I grabbed the social science book again and flipped it open, looking at the table of contents. History, civics, economics … A buzzing noise drew my attention away from the book. My phone was still lying on the kitchen counter, but the display had lit up with a message alert.
I was very tempted to get up and check who had messaged me, but the pile of books in front of me demanded my attention. No, I had to focus. If I wanted to keep my job at the diner, I had to throw myself in and study that stuff, even if it was boring and hard. I pulled my eyes away from my phone on the counter, cracked open the red social studies book, and started reading. Chapter one: Declaration of Independence . I’d barely finished reading the first paragraph when my phone buzzed with another message.
I sighed and forced my attention back to the book. On July 4, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was adopted… unanimously… I stumbled over that last word. More buzzing from the kitchen counter. How the heck was I supposed to concentrate when someone was bombarding me with messages? What was so important, anyway? I pushed myself to keep reading. The fifty-six delegates who signed the Declaration represented each of the Thirteen colonies: New Hampshire, Massachusetts Bay, Rhode Island… I should probably try to remember those names. Buzz. Buzz. The phone’s display lit up with yet another text message. I groaned and got up from the table. I would just turn the damn thing off .
When I reached for the phone, the screen was littered with messages, all from my mother.
I knew better. Messages from my mother were rarely a good thing, but I was just too tempted to find out what was going on. With a swipe of my thumb, I opened the first of the many texts.
Just saw Ryan’s ConnectBook. What the hell is going on, Kelsey?
My stomach clenched, and I dropped the phone like it was a hot coal.
I wouldn’t look. Ryan didn’t matter anymore. He had even actively tried to sabotage me, trying to make me lose my job, so why would I care about him? I had a new life, here in Brightwater. I would not look at his stupid ConnectBook page to check what had upset my mother enough to send me the first message since Thanksgiving.
I returned to my desk, but my heart was still beating uncomfortably fast, and my hands were clammy. Don’t look , I told myself. It. Does. Not. Matter.
I couldn’t stand it. It was a terrible idea, but I just had to see for myself. With shaky fingers, I unlocked my phone and opened ConnectBook. Finding Ryan’s latest post didn’t take long. He’d posted a bunch of pictures of himself at the beach, Ocean Beach, San Francisco, according to his location tag. He looked like he was having the time of his life—with Sarah, his twenty-one-year-old co-worker, whom he had told me not to worry about. The pictures showed him with his arms wrapped around her from behind, posing arm in arm in front of the ocean, her kissing his cheek. The whole couple pictures starter set. I basically threw the phone back on the desk. I got up, paced around the room, and grabbed the phone again, taking another peek at the pictures. For some reason, I had to. It was like poking at a wound to check if it still hurts even if you already know it does.
I looked at Ryan’s stupid, perfect smile and at his muscled arms, which looked outright impressive in his tank top. And I looked at that girl, Sarah—blonde, skinny, young. I should probably feel jealous, and yeah, there was some of that. But mostly, I felt… pity. Sarah was about the same age I’d been when I first met Ryan, puking my guts out in front of a nightclub, like I had done most weekends back then. I thought I’d hit the jackpot when we started dating. No doubt, Sarah thought the same. Would it take her as long as it had taken me to realize who Ryan really was?
I needed some fresh air, so I pulled the half-empty trash bag out of the kitchen’s garbage bin, just to have an excuse to leave the apartment.
I should’ve been glad this new woman took Ryan off of me, but damn… it hadn’t even been four weeks since I left. We’d been together for sixteen years, thirteen of them married! Forgetting me and moving on to the next girl shouldn’t have been that easy.
The cool evening air felt nice on my heated face, but otherwise, my trip to the outdoor garbage bins did little to calm me down. I threw the bag into the bin with the same force I wanted to throw Ryan down a staircase.
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you alright?”
In my emotional turmoil, I hadn’t even noticed I wasn’t alone. A boy was standing a few feet away from me—auburn hair, a blue backpack, middle-school age. The kid looked at me with honest concern. “You look like you are about to faint.”
I tried to collect myself. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself in front of a preteen. “Just got some… bad news, that’s all. Or at least I think it’s bad. You know what? It might not be all that bad after all.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I couldn’t blame him. “Anyway… I’m Kelsey, the new resident. Hi.”
“I’m Riley,” he said, “I live here with my mom. She’s already told me about you.”
“Nice to meet… Wait, are those your headphones?”
Only then had I noticed Riley was wearing headphones around his neck. Headphones that looked suspiciously familiar.
“These? Yeah! I just got them. Mr. Avery, from the second floor, gave them to me.”
“Oh, did he?” I could barely hide the anger in my voice. It wasn’t the kid’s fault Quentin Avery was a rude, ungrateful asshole.
“Yes! He’s like the nicest guy ever. He’s a teacher, you know. At our high school. I hope I’ll be in one of his classes when I go there. He’s so cool.”
“I’m sure he is,” I said flatly. “I’m sure he is.”