Page 52 of Yours

I wipe her tears with my thumbs and pull her to me again. If I don’t leave soon I’m going to say or do something I’ll regret. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding angry.

“I know,” she says. “I just don’t want to wait.”

“C’mon,” I say. “We’ll have that week together, then you’ve got spring break, right? We’ll do something special, just you and me, okay?”

“It just seems so far away,” she says.

“If you need anything, just call me.” I push back from her. “Now I know the way.”

“What if I run out of peanut butter?” she says, trying to make light of this, maybe for my sake.

“An eleven hour drive to bring you peanut butter?” I ask, a smile cracking my lips.

She laughs, and I decide this is as good a moment as any. I kiss her one last time then step back and look at her, trying to memorize every detail of her soft brown eyes and sweet face. “I love you,” I say.

She starts to cry again. “I love you too.”

The words still sound foreign to me, but the more I say them, the truer they feel. I’ve felt it since she came back from school, I just didn’t trust it.

“Be good,” I say, then walk to my side and get in the truck.

Darcy steps back, her beautiful face shattered with hurt.

I start the engine and before my insides can break into pieces, I pull the truck onto the street.

Eighteen

Darcy

I’m a wreck for two whole days, not leaving my apartment except to get groceries. I cry so hard I throw up. It just hurts so much. My whole body aches for him. At night I can’t sleep. We’ve barely been apart and it’s like now, I can’t sleep without him.

Tiffany realizes something is wrong, and I tell her a little bit about Brian, but I can sense she doesn’t understand. Maybe she’s never been in love. Or had someone care for her like Brian cares for me.

Classes start. Word of my poetry prize and publication has spread, and teachers seem eager to call on me in class. My poetry professor offers to help me submit more of my poems, so I do, often working on her revisions late into the night after all my other classwork is finished.

On Monday of the second week, Cory surprises me in the hall where I’m waiting to get into class. He glides his hand over my ass, and before I know what I’m doing, my hand lashes out and I slap him.

He covers his cheek in shock. “Bitch!” he says.

My books have tumbled to the floor. Other students have pulled back and are staring at me. “Leave me alone!” I cry at them.

“You’re the one who started it,” he spits. “Fucking tease,” he adds, then turns to walk away.

The hallway walls close in on me. I pick up one of my books and throw it in his direction. A nearby student leans back as the book flies off course and hits the ground. I try again with my poetry notebook and this one is lighter so almost catches him in the back of the leg.

But he keeps walking. I’m so angry that even though I gather my books and stomp into class, I can’t settle down enough to listen to the lecture.

I talk about it with Tiffany that night. “Dude, don’t file charges,” she warns. “Talk about getting blacklisted. Nobody’ll want to date you after that.”

“I don’t want to date anyone,” I say with a certainty I didn’t know I had.

She raises an eyebrow. “I know you’re smitten with homeboy from Willow Creek, but are you sure you wanna shut down your options like that?”

I think about this before answering. “If I don’t do something, Cory’s going to make life miserable for me. Maybe for other girls too.”

“Whatever,” she says, scrolling her phone.

The next day I visit the dean’s office and file a complaint. I have to speak at length with a counselor, who makes sure to get all the facts. And then it’s over and she says actions will be set in motion.

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