Page 32 of Coco and the Misfits

It’s kinda funny. If anybody has broken in without me noticing, would they be hiding under my bed?

Now that is a chilling thought...

“All clear,” Roman says as we all gather in my small living room. “We didn’t see anyone outside, either.”

“Shit. I honestly thought I’d heard something. Sorry, guys.” I pull back from Sawyer and Brinlee. “I brought you here for nothing.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came to us,” Sawyer says with a smile. “You can always call anytime you need help.”

Aww.

“Why don’t you come stay with us and tell me more about what happened?” he goes on. “It’s not safe for you here.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Think on it. Sleep on it.” He nods at me. “We’d love to have you over, right, guys?”

They all hum in agreement, forming a wall around me, and I want to take their offer. Let them hide me, coddle me, and protect me.

But I can’t impose like that. They are too kind, but they are a pack. They need their space, their time together. I’d be in the way.

“I’ll call June down in a bit to stay with me,” I whisper. “I’ll be fine. It was all in my head, after all.”

“What happened exactly?” Sawyer sighs when I shake my head. “You know I’ll get the truth out of one of the girls anyway.”

“I know.” I give him a tiny smile. “Again, thank you all for coming. It means a lot to me.”

“Always, my friend. Always.”

I have the best friends a girl could ever wish for.

Then what is this hole in my life I don’t know how to fill?

After this disaster, I’m more determined than ever to reclaim my life. I know, it’s only been two days. Come on, Coco, don’t be so melodramatic.

It feels like ages, though, and the fear has hollowed me up inside.

Or maybe I need more cake?

Whatever the cause, I’m getting out of here today and resuming normal operations. I need to find a job and buy groceries. Normal, routine stuff.

Mainly, I need to stop being afraid.

In the light of day, it seems easy.

Well, easier.

My main concern should be finding work before my meager savings run out—and before I have to call my parents and beg for help. I haven’t asked for help in years. It guts me to come so close to asking now.

I march through the familiar streets of my neighborhood, pondering this. Not all is lost yet, I tell myself. I’ll do the rounds, ask if anyone needs paid help.

Mom says I’m kinda lost because I keep insisting my official designation is wrong, I never managed to study, never managed to keep a steady job.

Is she right?

I’m not giving up on my little nest yet, my apartment that means so much to me. It’s a place where I can be myself one hundred percent, where I don’t have to justify my preferences and needs.

Not giving up on my independence yet, either. My parents are good people but they do tend to pressure me to “stop playing pretend” (their words), choose a nice beta boy and start a family.

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