Page 87 of When I'm Gone

“Can you ever enter a room normally?” I whine. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Brady chuckles warmly and ruffles my hair with one of his calloused hands. “Sorry, Koda. So today’s the day. How are you feeling?”

He slides me a smoothie with a stern look that screams eat something. Bossy, even without words. “Okay, I guess. All things considered.” Mmm, pineapple. My favorite. How’s that phrase go? To be loved is to be known? I missed having someone who’s always known me.

My brother sighs unhappily. “Yeah, talk about shit timing. Do you know how far along she was?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly, but pretty deep into her second trimester. She hid it from everyone for a while until all her kids were in the same room.”

Brady swears under his breath. “Well, not to be an insensitive asshole, but we gotta put that out of our minds so you can focus on your test, Eas. This is a really big day for you.”

“Yeah. Easier said than done, but I’m trying. I’m not sure I have this in me to do this again, so I’ve kinda got to get it right the first time.”

He smiles softly. “You will. You’re so smart, kid.”

I down the last of my smoothie and toss the cup in the sink to deal with later. “We both know my eyes glaze overwith any number longer than three digits. Smart seems a bit out of reach for me, Brady.”

The sound he makes is somewhere between outrage and disbelief as we make our way to his car. “That doesn’t mean you’re not smart. It means you’re shit with numbers. Welcome to the vast majority of humans. It’ll still be okay.”

I hum noncommittally. It’s kind of his job as my big brother to believe in me more than I deserve. I’m used to taking it with a grain of salt. He holds a mostly one-sided conversation on our way, and I’m grateful for it. The noise is soothing, even if I’m not sure why he’s so aware of Logan’s many hair color choices.

But hey, it requires very little input from me, so I’m a big fan. It’s not until he puts the car in park that I really start to feel the worst of my anxiety.

Deep breath in, hold… four, three, two, one. Again.

Brady graciously gives me time to collect myself. “It’s about time, Eas. You don’t wanna be late.”

I nod reluctantly. “Yeah. I’m going.”

He stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to do great, and on the off chance you don’t; no one is going to think any less of you, especially me. I love you. You’re gonna pass and this will be behind you finally.”

I force out a gruff word of thanks and get out of the car because if I linger, I’m definitely going to be dramatic and cry or something. It’s my thing now, I guess.

Fucking awful, in my opinion.

There’s a couple dozen other people of varying ages that signed up for the same time slot as me, and I’m really trying to not be self-conscious about the fact that most of them look like they’re supposed to be in high school or way older than me. Good for them, really. It’s hard to invest in yourself no matter how old you are. But being the weird in-between age is not fun for me.

If I could go one day without overthinking the dumbest shit, I’d be a whole different person, I swear.

The proctor passes out the exams and explains how much time we have, then all of a sudden, I’m actually doing this.

This barrier being knocked down would change my entire world. No one would be able to force me to be dependent on them again. Force me to be reliant on another person not being cross with me so I could eat.

Don’t fuck it up, Easton.

Please, don’t let me fuck it up.

Being a fast test taker is always such a gamble. I reread through my answers and make sure I’m happy with all of them and I’m still the second person done. That means I either failed miserably or knocked it out of the ballpark.

Preparing for the worst is my speciality, so while I try to convince myself that I’m not going to like the score I see when it is available, there’s a dumb little kernel in my chest that wonders if maybe I actually did okay.

I hate that thing sometimes, optimism is a very dangerous thing for me.

Brady messaged me while I was in there about picking me up, but I assure him that I’m fine and I’d rather get some air. I’m getting better at being alone with my thoughts, even when they’re not exactly positive. The way I see it, I need practice with it. It obviously doesn’t come easily to me, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.

Chase may not see it this way now, but eventually, my mental state will become a burden to him if I don’t learn how to cope by myself some of the time. I want a future with him so badly. It doesn’t help that now, I can picture it. Some of the details are still a little blurry, like what I’d do for a living, but he and I are as clear as day in my mind’s eye. The way we’d feel about each other, how happy we could be.

It’s an intoxicating thought and I’m willing to do anything to have it be a reality.

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