19. June
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JUNE
Campus looks different this week. The color has bled from everything. The oaks along the main path are a tired ochre turning brown at the tips. The Boston ivy on Morrison Hall is losing its crimson and turning the color of old blood. Even the sky is overexposed.
Three days until the anniversary.
I haven’t slept well in four nights. I know because I’ve been counting, the way I count everything when October arrives.
Cracks in the ceiling above my bed. The number of times I check the lock on the front door before I force myself to stop.
I snapped at Aeron yesterday for leaving his dishes in the sink, and the resigned look he gave me told me I’ve been doing that too much.
I’m also painting until two, three in the morning, canvas after canvas, each one darker than the last.
I just need movement, chaos, anything to stop the feelings from taking over.
Cinna is walking beside me with two coffees, one held out toward me. “Extra shot. You look like you need it.”
I take it, the cup warm under my fingers. “Thanks.”
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
No.
She matches my pace and drinks her own coffee.
We pass the courtyard fountain. A group of freshmen are clustered on a bench nearby, and one of them is eating a vanilla ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles. The sight of it makes me want to sob, so I force my gaze away.
Then I look back.
“June?”
Cinna’s hand is on my elbow.
“Sorry.” I turn away from the group completely. “Spacing out.”
She studies me carefully and I know she doesn’t buy it, but she lets me have my lie.
We keep walking, and my pulse takes another thirty seconds to settle. I concentrate on the scrape of my sneakers along the walkway. Cinna talks about a paper she’s struggling with for Art History. I nod at the right intervals.
“Hey,” she says after a lull. “I know this time of year is hard for you.” She picks her words with care. “I could come with you to the gravesite. If you don’t want to go alone this time.”
I sip more coffee to keep my throat from completely closing up. The offer is so gentle it almost undoes me. “No. But thank you. Really. Thank you for being such an amazing friend.”
She smiles and bumps her shoulder against mine.
I don’t want everything to be about me right now, so I ask, “How are things with your mom?”
She lets out a breath that’s a broken laugh.
“Oh, the same. That’ll never change.” She tucks a golden curl behind her ear.
“But I’m feeling a bit better. I told her I need to focus on school and can’t call or text much until winter break.
I’m studying ‘so hard’ I won’t even be able to visit for Thanksgiving.
She believed it, so at least I get a break from her and my sister for a while. ”
“Good. You deserve that.”
“Yeah. Boundaries. Who knew? Anyway, what do you think of planning a mini vacation? Like a long weekend. I need a break from everything.”
“Maybe.”
We sit on a bench near Whitmore Hall. My coffee is cooling fast, so I hold the cup between both palms and think about the last few weeks.
There haven’t been any new rumors since the one about Marcus, which was about two weeks ago.
No more nasty texts after that one about Carter that still makes my skin crawl when I let myself remember it.
But… I can feel this isn’t over.
“You think the administration figured out who was spreading the rumors?” I ask.
Cinna tilts her head, not convinced. “I doubt it. I still think it’s Aubrey, and I think we need to have a talk with her.”
“Maybe. But not right now.” I take a sip of the latte. “Not until after the anniversary. I can’t deal with both at the same time.”
She accepts that and leans back against the bench, crossing one ankle over the other. Then, quieter, with a certainty that makes me wary, she says, “Just wait. She’ll slip up eventually.”