Page 107 of Heart So Hollow

I’ve never lived anywhere besides Canaan, and even though I love it here, I know it’s time to go. There have been signs, like the universe is telling me this chapter is over and I don’t belong here anymore. I have a scholarship, I’m going to play ball in college, and I’m even going to visit one of my friends in Canada as a graduation present. The last time I saw him was two years ago when he came to our school in the foreign exchange program and he became one of my closest friends. Now he lives in Canada near the west coast.

Like I said, signs…

No matter how much some things—or people—try to keep me in Canaan, the pull of what’s waiting for me is stronger, like gravity. And you can’t fight gravity.

I sit between Hildy and Hannah, my legs dangling off the brick wall that lines the perimeter of the skate park, passing a bag of Sour Patch Kids back and forth. Hildy waves at Jay as he glides over the concrete. I don’t think he’s even been cleared to step on a skateboard since his knee surgery, but he was probably going crazy. I would be, too, if I had to just sit around and think about what happened. He’s out here, but it’s doubtful he’ll ever be able to skate like he used to. I look away, trying to tamp down the queasy feeling in my stomach when I think about why.

My eyes wander to the far ledge, where Bo’s standing with two other guys. I recognize him by the swath of shaggy black hair that hangs over his eyebrows and his faded black t-shirt with the peeling Cleveland Cavaliers logo across the chest. They tip their boards at the edge and Bo glances up, catching my eye before they all drop in. I watch him streak back and forth over the concrete, climbing the sides and balancing on the ledges before dropping down again. Kind of like what he’d been doing for the past two months—dropping in and dipping back out, over and over again.

And that wasn’t part of my plan.

I applied to four schools—Ohio State, Miami of Ohio, Oklahoma, and UCLA, all of which have softball programs. Oklahoma and UCLA were my Hail-Mary-pie-in-the-sky dream schools. Oklahoma’s team was ranked number one in the nation and UCLA was second. If I got into either of those, I’d be on scholarship and not have to worry about tuition. Ohio State and Miami also had softball programs, and even if I didn’t make those teams—which would’ve sucked—I could still count on academic scholarships to some degree.

But I’m good. Like, really good.

I even got the Stevie Hunter MVP Award, which comes with scholarship money. It’s a big fucking deal. Stevie Hunter was the best softball player in the entire state, and she was from Hellbranch, right next to Canaan. She was this Amazonian freak of nature who hit more home runs and grand slams than anyone in Ohio softball history. She could pull a Babe Ruth, point straight to the outfield, and hit her mark every time. And since she was so tall no one expected her to be fast, too, but she had such a long stride she could round the bases in record time. She went to Oklahoma and won the NCAA championship with them—twice.

I heard back from Ohio State and Miami first, both with full rides on sports scholarship. I was ecstatic. I was more than ecstatic—I breathed a sigh of relief because, no matter what happened after that, I didn’t have to figure out how to pay for school and I could play ball. I decided that if I didn’t get in anywhere else, I would accept Ohio State’s offer since they ranked higher than Miami.

It softened the blow when Oklahoma rejected me, which wasn’t surprising because they’re number one and, even if you’re the best of the best, there’s always going to be someone better than you. But when I checked my email on April 2nd and clicked on a message from UCLA, everything changed.

I realized my entire life was about to change, and it made me think about everything that had happened just in the past few months. I’m going to leave Canaan, but there are some things I can’t leave as they are. There are a lot of things I need to make right with people just in case I don’t see them again. Like Sydney…

Just like Jay’s knee will never feel the same, she can’t even look at herself in the mirror without being reminded of what happened—and it’s all my fault. I pull out my phone and start typing a text.

ME (7:55PM): Sydney—I’m so sorry for everything. If I could go back, I would’ve done so many things differently. I never would’ve invited you to go with us on Halloween, not because I don’t want to be your friend, but because maybe you never would’ve met Jay. I know I can’t apologize for other people, but I wish I could. When I found out what Hildy did to you, I told her how wrong it was. I even threatened to go to Jay’s dad and tell him she’s the one who did it, but maybe that would just make everything worse for you. I’m just so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. In many ways, you’ve been a better friend to me than anyone else and I haven’t been the same to you. You don’t have to forgive me, but I want to tell you some things and get them off my chest before we graduate and go off to school. I hope we see each other again, maybe in a different city somewhere far away, where we can start over and leave all of this behind.

I keep typing, letting everything spill out onto my phone screen, and I don’t look up again until Bo pops up on the far ledge, ending his run. He drops his board on the concrete and pushes off, heading away from us.

Hannah catches my eye and gives a subtle glance over my shoulder. There’s a tug on the end of my braided ponytail, and when I look over my shoulder, Bo sits down on the edge of the wall behind me. He sets his backpack down and turns halfway around to face me.

“You came,” he smiles, nudging the back of my shoulder with his.

Something brushes against my hand and I glance down in time to see him hook his pinky through mine, quick enough for no one else to notice. Just then, my phone buzzes with a text.

RAGGEDY ANDY (8:04PM): want me to pick you up later?

I still laugh at his name in my phone. That was our Halloween costume two years ago—Raggedy Ann and Andy. I changed it and never switched it back. He knows I’m at the skate park, so there’s a chance he might show up here, too. But I know what he’s trying to do, and I don’t usually mind, but now it’s getting to be too much. He can’t be here tonight.

Especially tonight.

“Hey,” I murmur, making Bowen lean in, “I need to talk to you sometime tonight.”

He nods, “Yeah, I need to talk to you, too.”

We lock eyes and just look at each other, not speaking, until Bo finally cracks a smile. I grin and look away, gazing back across the skate park. It’s like a beehive and all the drones have come out to play as soon as the night lights came on. Bo slides his fingers up the inside of my arm, sending a wave of electricity through my stomach as he strokes my skin.

My phone buzzes with another text.

RAGGEDY ANDY (8:05PM): fuck that. tell me where u are and i’ll wait for u

I shouldn’t have looked at it. I’m not going to answer. At least, not yet. I need to talk to Bo first. There are a lot of things he needs to know.

And I need to tell him while I still can.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Hollow Watcher

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