Chapter 10 – Cole-Past
Chapter Ten
NO DIRECTION WITHOUT YOU
COLE-PAST
It’s one of those days that feels off from the start.
I don’t know why—I just feel like something’s wrong.
It’s not even a big thing. It’s the little things, the way the hallways seem emptier than usual, how I’m not hearing Kenna’s voice echo through the space like I usually do.
I walk through the school, scanning every corner, hoping to see her. But no luck.
Even the air feels different. Like the hum of the building is lower, the lights dimmer, and the mood is a few degrees colder than usual. I tell myself it’s probably nothing. That maybe it’s just me having a weird day. Deep down, I know it’s more than that.
I don’t see her in first period. I don’t see her in second. By lunch, I still haven’t seen her, and a gnawing feeling works its way through my stomach. I’ve got this weird ache, like something’s out of place, but I can’t put my finger on it. The air feels heavier without her.
I sit down with Rina and Natalie, but all I can think about is where Kenna is. My heart races a little faster. I try to focus on the conversation, but I can’t shake the thought. Kenna. Why isn’t she here?
“Hey,” I ask, trying to sound casual, though the question weighs on me, “have you guys seen Kenna today?”
They both glance at me like I’ve got two heads. Rina frowns, looking around like she’s just realized something’s missing too.
“No,” Rina says, shaking her head. “I thought she was with you this morning. She wasn’t in any of my classes either.”
“Me neither,” Natalie chimes in. “Maybe she’s just ditching today? She’s always got her own thing going on, you know?”
I don’t believe that for a second. Kenna doesn’t skip school. She has responsibilities—too many to just blow them off for the day. “She didn’t text or anything?” I ask, but even as I say it, I know the answer.
“No,” Rina says. “I haven’t heard from her at all.”
A tight feeling presses on my chest. My fingers automatically reach for my phone, and I send her a text.
My hand is trembling a little. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. Like my body knows something I don’t.
Me
Where are you? You didn’t come to school today.
My thumb hovers over the send button, the worry building inside of me. I want to call her, but I don’t want to bother her if she’s busy. I stare at the screen a second too long before sending it anyway. Still, I can’t stop myself from worrying.
A few long minutes go by, and just when I’m about to get up and leave, my phone buzzes. It’s Kenna’s reply.
Sunshine
Stayed home sick.
The knot in my stomach tightens. Sick? I don’t know why, but hearing that makes everything feel heavier.
Kenna sick? It doesn’t make sense. She’s always the one taking care of everyone, running on empty, but somehow she always powers through.
It’s hard for me to picture her being the one in need of care.
The screen holds my focus for a moment, thumb pressing against the keyboard. Leaving it like this doesn’t sit right. There has to be something I can do. Making sure she’s okay matters too much to ignore.
Me
Want me to bring you anything?
It’s a simple text, but it feels like I’m trying to convey everything in one sentence.
Me
I’m here. You matter to me. You won’t have to face this on your own.
Her response is almost immediate.
Sunshine
No, I’m fine. Just tired.
Bullshit.
She’s not fine. I know Kenna too well. She’s trying to act like she’s okay, like she doesn’t need anything, but I know better. I know her. And I can’t just sit around and wait for her to snap out of whatever funk she’s in.
I stand up abruptly, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoing through the cafeteria. My friends look up at me in surprise, but I’m already walking away, barely registering the murmurs behind me. Kenna is the only thing on my mind.
I pass the vending machines without a glance, ignoring the security guard calling after me when I head toward the parking lot. I’m halfway to my car before I even register that I left my backpack on the table. Doesn’t matter. Nothing is right now.
I don’t waste any time. Leaving school, I go directly to my car and drive to the store, planning my shopping list. I already know what will make her feel better, and what she’ll like.
I grab a bouquet of hibiscus first. It’s something so simple, but every time I’ve handed her those flowers, there’s been this softness in her eyes. I know they’ll cheer her up.
Then, I grab a jar of cookie butter and a box of saltines.
I can’t help but think it’s a weird combination, but it’s something Kenna always swears by when she’s feeling under the weather.
I’ve seen her eat it countless times—sitting on her couch in that old hoodie of hers, eating the cookie butter with a spoon and dunking the saltines in it.
It’s comforting to her, and if it makes her feel better, then I’m getting it.
I can’t resist grabbing the latest One Direction album. Kenna’s had a soft spot for them for as long as I’ve known her. I know she still listens to their music, even though she’d never admit it to anyone else. It’s a small thing, but just thinking about it makes me smile.
On the way to checkout, I spot a tiny stuffed keychain. It is a little sun with a goofy smiling face. It’s dumb, probably too cutesy, but it reminds me of her. Sunshine. My Sunshine. Maybe it’ll make her smile, even just a little.
When I get home, my mind’s still running a mile a minute. I walk through the door and see my mom at the counter, chopping vegetables for dinner. She’s wearing her apron, humming to herself. The second she sees me standing there in the middle of a school day, her expression shifts.
Her brows knit together. “Cole?” She glances at the clock on the microwave. “What are you doing home? It’s not even sixth period yet.”
I hesitate, the shopping bags awkward in my hands. “I left school,” I say, not even trying to sugarcoat it. “Kenna’s sick. I picked up some stuff for her.”
“You left?” Her voice rises slightly. “As in…you just walked out of school? Without telling anyone?” She sets the knife down, wiping her hands on a towel. “Cole, you can’t just disappear like that! What if the office calls me? What am I supposed to say?”
I drop the bags on the counter a little harder than I mean to. “Tell them I don’t care.”
“Excuse me?”
I meet her eyes. The words come out before I can stop them. “Kenna’s not okay. I don’t care about school right now, Mom. She’s sick, and something’s wrong, and no one’s paying attention to it but me.”
For a second, everything goes quiet. The only sound is the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Her eyes soften, but her voice stays firm. “I get you care about her, honey. I do. But you can’t just skip school every time someone’s having a rough day—”
“No,” I cut in, sharper than I mean. “This isn’t a rough day.
It’s not just a headache or a cold. I know her, Mom.
I know when she says she’s fine but isn’t.
And right now? She’s not fine. She didn’t show up, she didn’t text, she lied and said she’s tired—she only does that when she’s hiding something. ”
Mom exhales slowly, her frustration melting into genuine concern. “You really think it’s serious.”
I nod. “I know it is.”
She pauses, then walks over and gently places a hand on my shoulder. “Okay. So what did you get her?”
I walk to the counter and start unpacking the bags. “Hibiscus, cookie butter, saltines…and the new One Direction album.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Still into them, huh?”
I almost smile. “She’ll deny it, but yeah. I don’t think she ever stopped.”
She chuckles under her breath. “Of course you got her the album. You’re lucky she didn’t have a full-blown boy band obsession before you met her, or you might’ve had some competition.”
I roll my eyes, but the tension in the room eases a bit. She helps me arrange everything into a little wicker basket, adding tissue paper from the cabinet to make it look nicer. When I move to steep the tea, she watches, quiet and warm.
“You’ve always been good to her, Cole,” she says, her voice soft but smiling. “Even after being together for a few years, you still make her feel special.”
I nod, a small grin tugging at my lips. “I can’t help it. She makes everything better just by being around. I just want to return the favor sometimes.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but I know she gets it. I finish steeping the tea and mash the raspberries in, stirring carefully. The scent of tea and berries fills the kitchen, a warm, familiar comfort.
The drive to the Feely house feels like it takes hours.
My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white, but I can’t seem to loosen my hold.
My thoughts keep racing ahead of me. All I can think about is Kenna, curled up in her bed, sick, upset, or both.
I want to know why she’s like this. I want to help her, but I don’t even know where to begin.
Every red light feels like a lifetime, and every second the engine hums under me is a reminder that I’m running out of time to do something right. I catch myself glancing at my phone, hoping for a message from her. A sign that she’s okay. But there’s nothing. Just silence.
I’d told myself I wouldn’t let it get to me, but it’s not working.
Every time I try to shake off the worry, I just picture her crying, her face pressed into the pillows, her shoulders shaking.
I have to remind myself to focus, to breathe.
I can’t mess this up. She needs me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.
I try to think about something else. Anything else. The math test I flunked last week, the stupid argument with my mom—but none of it sticks. It’s like Kenna’s pain is a shadow that’s wrapped around me, tugging me back to the same place: her room, her tears.