Page 22 of I Wish I Would've Warned You

“Cole, can I talk to you about something?” my dad asks, knowing damn well I never speak to him on testing days.

“Later.” I walk away and up the stairs before he can follow.

I go straight to my balcony, needing quiet. Just a minute to breathe. But familiar humming cuts through the stillness.

Emily’s sitting near the railing, a pen in her mouth, notepad on her thighs.

“You deny what I can see with my own eyes…” she murmurs. “The judge and jury can’t determine your lies… because…”

She pauses. “‘The judge and jury can’t determine your lies… because they don’t believe what you’ve done to me is a…”

“What you’ve done to me is a…” She taps the paper a few times, sighs. “Is a?—”

“Crime.” I say it before I can stop myself. Her head snaps up, cheeks coloring as her eyes meet mine.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

She jots the word down and hums again.

“Is that the whole poem?” I ask.

“No, just a draft.” Her voice is soft. “Want to hear a really short one I actually finished today?”

“Sure.”

She flips a few pages and takes a breath before reading, voice smooth, steady:

Your loyalty to me is one-sided,

So I’ve finally decided

To bide my time

Just a little while

And then I’ll leave you, like you leave me

In pieces, in pain, an emotional tragedy

You’ll come searching for me, after I’m long gone

But it’ll be too late for me to hear your sorries, I’ll be penning new songs

About how blood isn’t really any thicker than water

It’s just a title—like mother, like daughter.

She exhales and looks at me. “Does it sound okay?”

It sounds like she reached inside my chest and pulled the words straight out.

“It sounds very good,” I say. Even though I should lie. I should say nothing at all. I should turn around and walk inside.

“So um…” she clears her throat. “I’ve been meaning to catch you so we could talk.”

“About what?”

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