Page 113 of Faux Real
Corrine sniffles, frowning. “Why?”
“Else you’ll turn into a fucking grape,” I say, handing her the water. “Night, Corrine.”
“I don’t want it!” Corrine yells, throwing the bottle into a bush. “I’m fine!” She chugs a shit ton of wine. “I’m gonna go have fun now.”
“Right,” I say, taking a deep breath. “You do that.”
Corrine stumbles inside toward a group of people and I look around, a bitter taste in my mouth.
Everyone is wasted. Slurring. Making poor decisions. From where I’m standing, this shit doesn’t look fun. It looks like a nightmare.
I’m ready for a dream.
thirty-five
Wishy Washy Wishes
KENNEDY
IwishthatIhad blacked out. I wish that I didn’t remember anything from last weekend. I wish that all the shots and coolers I drank acted like a memory wipe. I wish I didn’t remember anything.
I wish. I wish. I wish.
But wishing for things never works. Ever. Wishes are for people who can’t face reality. Who don’t know how the real world works. Who leave shit up to faith and divine intervention. Wishing is foolish.
And I was a freaking fool.
God, why did I call him? Why did I do that? Such an idiot. Can I blame the alcohol? I could, definitely. Is itactuallythe alcohol’s fault? No. It’s not. It’s mine. It’s mine because I knew I shouldn’t have dialed his number. I knew it wouldn’t help me move on. I knew that. Deep down. I really did. And yet? I still called.
Like a fool.
And now? I sigh, glancing over at the back of Oliver’s head as Mr. Takanaki dismisses the class. And now I’m going to have to talk to him. Tell him that I’m sorry. That it was a mistake calling him. That it didn’t mean anything. Because it didn’t. That’s what I’m telling myself. And if I train my brain to ignore the fact I’m missing him, it’ll slowly start believing it. That’s psychology.
Mind over matter.
“So, you stoked for the senior trip?” Sawyer asks, hopping off the stool and collecting his backpack. “KC?”
“What?” I mumble as Oliver cranes his neck over his shoulder, our eyes meeting for a split second before I turn away, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Oh, thecampingtrip? I don’t know. Three days in the woods doesn’t seem like much of a celebration to me.”
“It’s cabins, not tents,” Sawyer chuckles as we walk out of photography. “Plus, there’s gonna be Wi-Fi and actual toilets. Think of it more likeglamping.”
I roll my eyes. “Bugs are bugs, Sawyer.”
“Oh, come on,” Sawyer says, checking his phone. “It’s gonna be fun. Bonfires? Marshmallows? You’ll love it, trust me.”
“I doubt that, but Max is forcing me to go so I’ll be there,” I say, subtly scanning the halls for Oliver. Where did he go? I catch the sleeve of his leather jacket turning a corner into the quad. “I gotta go, I’ll see you around.”
“Wait,” Sawyer says, putting out his hand. “What’re you doing this weekend? Wanna come to Zeek’s with me? He’s throwing a little thing at his place. Just a few people. It’ll be chill.”
“Is Corrine going?” I ask, tossing him a skeptical look. “‘Cause if she is, it won’t bechill.”
“Nah,” Sawyer says with a shrug. “She’s going to Manhattan with her mom or something. I don’t know.”
I blink. “You don’t know?”
“Yeah, she’s been ignoring me all week,” he says, pocketing his phone. “Probably trying to get back at me for last weekend.”
“She still mad at you for taking me home?” I wince, faded memories of Sawyer attempting to lug me up to Max’s parent’s house flashing in my head.
