Drowning. I'd been drowning and didn't realize it. After Jack's rejection, not only was I mad at him, but waves of forgotten feelings had surfaced. A tightness in my chest, my lungs filling with water as the current took me far from the familiar island of my own apathy.
Grace used to leave me home by myself even as a child, off working or drinking or committing fraud or who knew what. One time, I fell down the stairs and broke my arm but didn't tell anyone about the pain until a week later. And now I thought... I'd always hated Grace for her absence, but what about my dad? He might've been physically there, but why hadn't he noticed the way I'd swallowed my tears, the awkward way I moved my arm? Why had it taken him a week to realize I wasn't fine?
You're going through a lot.
Words both Jack and Psychologist #5 had said. And maybe they were right. Except not just now. Maybe I'd always been going through a lot, but no one had taken the time to notice.
Especially not me.
Against my better judgment, I saved Penelope's number in my phone as "Sociopath #2". Against my better judgment, I texted her back. And received clear instructions only a minute later.
From Sociopath #2:
5 pm. December 11. Get ur $$$
December 11. My birthday, and she knew it. Mine and Jack's birthday.
My phone buzzed. Penelope again. This time, she sent coordinates. They led to a state park. An hour and a half away from Seattle. Trails with waterfalls and abandoned railroad tunnels. The sort of thing Dad and Greta would go to on the weekend to hike at.
I texted her back: How do I know you're not going to kill me?
From Sociopath #2:
Can't win the pageant if I'm charged with murder first.
Well. I finally knew what I'd be doing to celebrate turning 18.
Maybe I was like Grace. Maybe I'd never change. And the second thing, following stubbornness, universal to all versions of Romy Nakamoto Pereira:
She'd do anything for a thrill.
❀ ❀ ❀
The second unexpected text of the night:
From Jackass:
why did you try to kiss me?
I didn't bother to respond. Maybe it was my turn to pull a Jack and ignore him.
❀ ❀ ❀
After the last bell of the day rang, I headed to the bus stop I waited at nowadays. Stared at the stop on the other side of the street I used to wait at when I went to the flower shop right after school. Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone. Slouched posture and messy brown hair.
Jack.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, not caring how loud I sounded.
Without looking at me, he grabbed my wrist and led me away from the bus stop. Down the sidewalk. Toward a pond by our school people skipped class to go smoke at, surrounded by trees and chirping birds.
"I repeat," I said, yanking my wrist away, "what are you doing here? Inviting me to get stoned by the pond? Because I'm busy today, just so you know."
He turned. I had no intention to give him any ounce of consideration today. Not even when he finally looked at me with an unexpected softness in his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
The One Without Words
Teen Fiction"Go ahead," I said, backing up against the pink wall of the shop. "Do something other than glare at me." I waited. One, two, three seconds... and nothing. I raised my chin at him. "You're boring me, mute boy." He stepped closer. Leaned toward me as...
