Page 90 of Bad For A Weekend

“It’s not you. I’m just still kind of involved with someone, and things between us are unresolved right now,” I blabber.

“It’s cool, Baylor. Really.” He smiles again, but it’s forced this time. “Let’s get you home.”

Baylor

The house is alive with activity. Hudson and a team of ten other men are congregated in the living room with a map of the River Center and Gardens propped up on an easel. Hudson assigns each of them lookout points while I eat a smoothie bowl Brandy put together for me.

“This is crazy,” I mumble.

“It’s just a precaution,” Brandy says, sitting next to me at the kitchen island.

“Maybe I shouldn’t even go. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal, and you deserve to walk across that stage like everyone else.” She tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

“At what cost? This is insanity.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a few extra eyes.”

I gesture to the living room. “This is more than a few extra eyes. This is President of the United States coming to town kind of extra.”

“No, he has snipers,” she quips.

“Brandy,” I whine. “This is embarrassing.”

“No one will even notice.”

“Dad said Hudson has to be with me the entire time.”

“He won’t walk across the stage with you,” she says as though that makes it all better.

“He has to sit next to me during the speeches.” I absently stir the smoothie in with the coconut shreds and granola. “I’m not going to go. They can mail me my diploma.”

I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t pulled the Houdini act with Ziggy, it would be Owen sitting next to me. I would’ve been happy to have him at my side, sharing the experience with him. My regrets are many.

“Now you listen here, missy.” Brandy pulls out her mom voice. “You are going to graduation, you will walk your pretty little butt across that stage, and you will give your dad and me this memory. You hear me?”

Brandy rarely mothers me, but it’s always funny when she does, so I laugh.

“What are you giggling about? I mean it.”

“I know you do.” My laughter dies with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go and make you all proud.”

“That’s my girl. Now get upstairs and get ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I set my uneaten food in the sink and sulk my way upstairs.

After showering, I step into my room, that’s been transformed into a beauty station. I thought it was overkill, but Dad insisted on bringing my hairstylist and a makeup artist in since graduation only comes once.

My phone does its best to entertain me for the hours it takes to transform my appearance, but my anxiety grows with each passing minute. I wish Owen were here. Not only would I feel safe, but he’s the only one who’s ever been able to talk me off the ledge. I have a bad feeling about today that I can’t shake. Maybe it’s paranoia, or maybe it’s just this cloud that’s been looming ever since Owen disappeared.

“Almost done,” Alyssa, my hairstylist, says. “And let me tell you, you’re going to flip.”

The pink and red had faded since I had my hair colored before Tulum, so I had a choice to make—keep the color, change the color, or go back to blonde. I chose blonde so I didn’t clash with our evergreen and white school colors.

Plus, I no longer feel like standing out. Maybe blending in for a while wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Are you ready for the big reveal?” Alyssa asks.

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