Page 2 of True Blue

I push my door open, immediately closing it and leaning back against the wood. Taking a deep breath, I look around at my different sized cork boards covering the sky-blue walls, each covered with pinned photos of my life back in Maine. Pictures of me smiling, of Mom smiling, of Aunt Tati, of Dad. Pictures of the before era.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, touching the framed photo of him on my dresser as I pass. He’s smiling, brown eyes rolled upward as he watches a small, toothless me ugly laugh atop his shoulders. His dark hands hold me by my calves, and I feel the ghost of that comfort waft over my skin.

The black and white Imperium Coast University logo on his sweatshirt makes me smile as I walk into my bathroom, pulling my sports bra off and starting the shower. Only sixty-eight more days till I’m there. Till I’m there with Layla.

Waiting for the water to heat up, I drag my leggings off and study my reflection for a moment, smiling at my disheveled state and sweat covered umber skin. My phone buzzes on the sink.

Grabbing it to read the notification, I smile, finding a text from Layla reminding me to read the letter she just emailed. Excitement zips through my chest, tickling my nose like champagne, as I rush through my shower and quickly towel off, running some cream over my wet curls.

Donning one of Dad’s baggy old t-shirts and some pajama shorts, I grab my laptop and plop down on my giant beanbag. Taking a second to look at the photos of Layla, Axel, Gwen, and I spread out around my room, I wait for my emails to load, tapping my nails against the keys. The ping of a notification finally sounds, and I click on Layla’s latest email, sitting back to read.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: WRITE BACK ASAP

Hi babes!

Sorry I haven’t been able to write lately. Packing up Gwen and my dorms and shoving them into Dad’s car, then unpacking everything at home and getting settled back in here has been a whole thing. I think I slept for a full week after Igot home. I’m already thinking about two months from now when school starts again though. At least this time I’ll have you there! Don’t get me wrong, I love our email tradition, but I cannot wait to actually talk in person!! Five years overdue, babes.

Can’t believe it’s been that long since we’ve seen each other. Since Mom and Uncle Levi died…

Sorry, that was a downer turn. Back to happier thoughts. I passed all my classes! None of them were that hard, but I still got nervous for some reason? Filled my gym requirement with that juggling class I was telling you about. I had to record myself juggling my practice clubs for the final, so I attached the video. Figured you would love the laugh.

Are you done with finals yet? Axel still has two more this week and then his graduation is next Friday. He’s still annoyed that I skipped seventh grade, but I think he liked being an only child at home with Dad last year. Plus, we each have separate graduation parties now, so it’ll be all about him at this one. I’ll get him back next year and beg Dad for a combined twin birthday party for old time’s sake. Remember when he threw a fit over the half Spider-man, half Bratz birthday cake? He always sucked at sharing.

Gwen’s going to RA again this year so you might get her if you end up in the West Tower. I still wish we could room together. Stupid freshmen floor rules. Although, those same rules do make it so that I don’t have to room with Axel. That would be a nightmare. Maybe second semester we can figure something out. I convinced Dad to let me get a single this year after the disaster that was Amber. Thank God she dropped out at the beginning of this semester. Let me know when you get your orientation packet so we can Facebook stalk your new roommate and try to figure out if she’s going to be a psycho or not.

How’s Christopher? I’m rolling my eyes as I type that, because I know you know I don’t care, but I feel like I have to ask since you won’t just BREAK UP WITH HIM ALREADY. And before you start typing, I know your mom would freak, but you’re leaving for school soon anyways so who really cares?

Write back ASAP. I’m so freaking bored here in Maine. Can’t wait to see you!

Love you,

Lay

I smile, rereading the email and feeling the ever-present ache of the distance between us. Reminding myself of my countdown, I open the attached video file at the bottom. Lay pops up on my screen, standing a few feet away from the camera and holding three different colored clubs in her hands.

“Hi, I’m Layla Clifford, and this is my final presentation for PED 161: Juggling.” Lay takes a step back, looking up and taking a deep breath before tossing one of the clubs into the air. She throws the other two up afterward, concentrating and biting her tongue as she catches and throws the clubs for three minutes straight. I smile as she catches them all at the end, chuckling as she shouts excitedly and dances around for a second before facing the camera again. “Thank you,” she says and the video cuts on the last frame. Layla smiling at the camera stares at me.

I stare back for a moment. We’ve sent pictures over text and with emails before and follow each other on all our social media, but not having seen my best friend in person in five years always makes me savor a new look into her life back home. She started dyeing her hair a few years ago and the colors change rapidly, so I always like seeing what new one she’s chosen next. It’s blue in the video, her dark roots visible in her part. She’ll change the color soon, if she hasn’t already, since the grow out has gottenan inch long and the dye looks faded. She wears a hoodie in the video, her mom’s bakery logo printed across the chest, and I wonder if she raided one of the storage boxes in her garage to pull it out.

Clifford Cupcakes has been closed ever since the accident; Uncle Jack unable to run it after Aunt Tati and Dad died. I thumb the logo on the screen, hearing the greeting bell that rang every time someone walked into the shop.

“Janette!” Mom’s voice startles me from the memory, and I close my laptop.

“Yeah?” I call back, standing. Mom stands at the threshold, staring down at the phone in her hand while her other one rests on her hip.

“Are you doing anything today?” she asks, not looking up. She never looks in my room.

I toss my laptop onto my desk. “No, I was just going to relax since finals are done.”

I wait for her to say something about finishing school, but Mom just nods, typing something out. Her French manicured nails tap across the screen as her eyes rove the keyboard. “Get dressed. Pietro thinks he found you a summer job that can get us some good media exposure for the campaign.”

I close my eyes, counting down in my head before opening them again. I read online that’s supposed to help when you’re stressed. So far, I’ve seen minimal results. “What is it?” I ask as I walk back over to my closet.

“Something with Habitat for Humanity. Chris is going to do it too. Casual clothes will be fine for today, but if Pietro gets you the interview he’s working on, we’ll need to get Dotty to get you and Chris coordinated campaign approved outfits.” I turn to complain, but she’s already walking away, heels clicking against the hallway’s hardwood floor. Fighting Mom on this would only lead to her sending her whole team in to convince me how goodof an opportunity this is and how it will look on my resume in the future. I already know that when Sandra Davidson 2.0 wants something, she’ll have someone else fight dirty for her.

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