Page 32 of The Baller

I started to feel like perhaps I was salvageable.

Eighteen months ago, my life spun out of control, and ever since then I’ve worked to claw back a semblance of the life I once had.

Saying it’s hard doesn’t do it justice. Some days it feels impossible.

Heis why I have extra protective detail, because my terrified parents want to keep me safe.Heis why I’m at Columbia instead of Georgetown.Heis why I’m still in weekly therapy sessions where my doctor gives me homework that involves the most basic of human instincts – talking to people.

Andheis why I still haven’t replied to the text message Lux Weston sent me.

“Radley how did you meet him?” she repeated.

“I was in a bookstore, and he helped me take a book from the shelf.”

“And you talked to him?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Radley…” She stopped as I held my hand up to her.

“I didn’t, but then I saw him later in a bar near campus, and he came and talked to me.”

I stopped again, and I could tell she was itching to say something because I didn’t go to bars, and everything about this conversation was entirely out of character for me. She stayed quiet though.

“He wanted my number.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Panicked. Millie had gone to the bathroom, and I was onmy own. Well… I mean as much as I’m ever on my own. Meg and Ava were at the other end of the bar, and Jake and Ethan were nearby.”

“Did you ask him to leave you alone?”

It was one of the things I’d practiced with her; when someone got into my space uninvited, I should ask them to leave me alone. I rarely got the opportunity however, as either Millie or one of the agents got there first.

I shook my head. “He took me by surprise, as I recognized him from the bookstore. I was going to ask him to leave, but then a couple of frat guys arrived. He made them leave when they tried to take a picture of me.”

I looked up at her and smiled to find her nodding.

“Then what happened?”

“Millie came back and told him to leave.”

“Ah. So, he didn’t get your number?”

I continued talking like she hadn’t said a word. “I didn’t want to be in there any longer. We’d gone to play pool and it had gotten really busy. We were on our way back to the dorm when something happened.”

I stopped talking and took a deep breath.

“Did you go back to the dorm?”

“No…” I raised my head to the screen to see Doctor Jessops shuffle and cross her legs as she moved closer. I’d always been good at telling a story. “I was so pissed that these guys had ruined my first few weeks of college, and almost ruined my evening, like they couldn’t give a shit about anything except their stupid photos. Couldn’t give a shit about me.”

My fists clenched, and I rammed them between my legs before my entire body shook, and even without looking at her, I knew Doctor Jessops’ thick, dark eyebrows would have risenover the frame of her glasses again.

I didn’t get angry.

I got sad and retreated.

I went out of my way to make everyone’s lives easier, because I’d once made them so hard. I stayed in and lived my life through books and boxsets, but I didn’t get angry. Not athim, not at the frat boys, not at my parents for curbing my university experience with extra security.

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