Page 19 of White Hole

We had. He left my mother forBethany, who was two years ahead of me in high school. She was eighteen and the prom queen. She gave birth to Jeff Junior nine months to the day after their wedding. How she and Dad got together was a story I never wanted to know.

“I just need to grab something from the basement. Is that okay with you?”

My father’s brown eyebrows lowered with concern. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Oh. Now he was going to play Dad. “Fine. Just wanted to get something of mine if I have your permission.”

“Yes, Kinsley. Of course. You’re welcome anytime.” I got up from my seat and walked down the hall. Like his wife, he followed me. “How’s school? You’re getting straight As, right? Been studying for the MCAT?”

“Yes, father. Of course. I’ve been perfect.”

“And your marathon training? It’s going well? Beating your times?”

Making my way into the storage room off the finished basement, I found the plastic bin of memories from high school and opened it. It smelled like cat piss. “Yes, yes.”

“You could get the top women’s result if you tried.”

“Could I? Could I, Dad? If I onlytried?”

Placing his hands on his hips, he said, “Kinsley, what is wrong? I just know you can be the best. What’s wrong with encouraging you?”

As soon as I found the charm bracelet, I shoved past him and flew up the stairs while he told me to wait. I wasn’t stopping. I made it to my car, and he came out onto the porch to watch me drive off.

Feeling the urge to run, I quickly went home to change into my running gear, then drove back to the park. It was going to be a full marathon run today, no matter how late it took me. Iwouldbeat my times, but I’d do it for me.

I knew it was a vast disappointment to my father when I couldn’t play tennis again. He kept trying to push me into it after physical therapy. Finally, the doctor had to step in and explain in basic terms that I couldn’t hold a racket. Despite that, Dad tried to force me to for weeks after, hitting balls at me as hard as he could. I didn’t have the grip strength to return them. When he yelled, “You’re just not trying hard enough!” I threw the racket at him and didn’t speak to him for weeks.

The farther I ran, the better I felt. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I kept pushing, ignoring the groans from my stomach. I’d eat after. The night was settling into the sky and stars started peeking out. I was able to spot Venus, then Ursa Major, and smiled.

Dirty George thought I wasn’t clever enough to learn stars. I’d show him. The next time I showed up for tutoring, I was going to blow him away. I slowed my run to a jog, trying to catch my breath.

George’s face came to my mind at the thought of blowing him in other ways, and I felt my cheeks get hot. Why did he have to be so fucking attractive? Worse, why did he have to be so fucking smart? I could ignore his attractiveness if his brain wasn’t so big.

I wondered if the other parts of him were just as big as they all said…No, Kinsley!He was a rude, arrogant prick. I should not have been so flustered by him.

As I jogged back, light footsteps crunched behind me on the paved trail. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw nothing. I stopped hearing the steps after a few minutes and pressed on. When I rounded a corner of the trees in the park, a dark figure jumped out from behind the oak tree and tried to grab me. The person was wearing a fully black outfit with a black mask covering their face.

I screamed and sped up, sprinting as fast as I could. No one was around at this time of evening. I had been foolish to run alone in the dark forest at night. Heading towards the lights of the parking lot, I dashed in a weaving pattern in case the figure was close behind, but the running thuds grew farther from my ears.

A small stone fence bordered the area for cars. Only mine was parked in the lot and I set my eyes directly on it. I vaulted over the rocks as quickly as I could without tripping. A thump and groan of pain came from a man behind me when I jumped over the wall. He must have stumbled, but I was not going to turn to look. Scrambling to pull out my car key, I ran over to the driver’s door, and quickly pulled it open and jumped inside.

Flicking on my bright headlights, I shined the light on the fallen figure. When I turned on the engine, I drove straight at him, but he darted towards the forest again and ran off. Digging through my center console, I found an old can of mace I usually took with me on these types of runs. It was still charged. For next time.

After arriving at my apartment, I found it empty. Marissa seemed to be spending a lot of time with her new boyfriend. Elle was probably at a party somewhere, and Sharice was probably practicing her music. I was alone. I used the opportunity to heat up one of the dinners in the fridge and catch up on trashy TV.

A few hours later, I took a shower and decided to end the evening by studying astronomy to slay George away during the next tutoring session. His notes were coming in handy, even if his mnemonics were dirty. He wrote “I Eat George’s Cock” for the Galilean moons of Jupiter.

The day of our next tutoring session arrived. I dressed in a short plaid skirt (with black tights to hide the scars) and a black sweater that happened to have shrunk in the wash. It wasn’t forGeorgeat all. I just happened to put on makeup: a little blush and lip gloss, and some eyeliner. Highlighter and contour. Just that. And some of my favorite Chanel perfume. Nothing else. And my grandmother’s pearl earrings.

Okay, so maybe I wanted to really show him up and see what would come out of his mouth. Part of me couldn’t wait to blush between my legs if he spoke dirty to me again, and the other part of me wanted to smack him if he did.

Rounding the corner of the library to our section, the sight of the big man made my palms sweat. He stared at me intensely, then I saw his Adam’s apple bob in a slow swallow. Hmm, maybe I’d already shown him up without even speaking.

Sliding into the wooden chair next to him, I pulled out my notebook with a sly grin.

“What perfume are you wearing?” he asked.

“Chanel. Why?”

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