Page 19 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

He takes my hand and navigates us to the parking lot. Once outside, he dramatically throws his hands toward the sky and rejoices, “Free at last!”

I should laugh at this point, but it’s lost somewhere inside me. “You act like it’s a torture chamber in there.”

“Isn’t it?”

There’s an overwhelming urge for me to hug him and thank him for being my friend for these past two months. To tell him that he made my days a little more bearable and to release the tears I’ve been barricading. The desperation to cling to him in hopes that it’ll pull me out of this gloom is irrational, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Let’s go to Taqueria El Sabor and get wasted on nachos.”

I want to go. More than anything, I want to believe that spending time with him and filling my belly with carbs will pull me out of this funk, but I know better. There’s no faking my way out of this. “I wish I could, but my brother comes home tomorrow, and I need to help my mom around the house.”

“Don’t you have a cleaning lady?”

“She’s sick and cancelled this week, so ...” I shrug, but he still pushes.

“You’re kidding? It’s the last day of school; you can’t just ditch me.”

“I’m sorry. Another time?” I offer.

Disappointment presses down on his shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he turns and walks to his car.

“Noah, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. It’s cool.” His words are just as fake as my own. “I’ll catch you later.”

I toss my backpack into my car before sliding behind the wheel. The anarchy inside the building has now funneled out into the parking lot. Shifting into reverse, I look into my rearview mirror to back out of my space and find Sebastian, Brent, and a handful of other students clumped together. Sebastian has a cast on his hand as he lifts a flask to his mouth and takes a sneaky sip.

That guy is such a douche. Not even a month ago, he got suspended for drinking, and now he’s at it again—on school property.

I ease my foot onto the gas pedal and back out, but when I get a tad too close to their group, they get loud and flip me off before I drive away. After pulling to a stop at a red light, I grab my cell and text my brother.

Me: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

Before the light turns green, he texts back.

Tyler: Same here. Hey, will you make sure Mom has those frozen bagel pizzas I like?

Me: No problem. Anything else you want?

Tyler: You know what I like.

When the light turns green, I toss the phone aside and head to my mother’s flower shop so I can grab some cash to run to the store. I decide to bypass the perky girls she employs and pull behind the building to let myself in through the back entrance. I’m getting out of my car when another text comes through.

Tyler: Oh, and don’t forget to get a case of Dr. Pepper!

Me: Gotcha!

When I look up from my phone, I spot my mother getting out of the passenger side of a familiar SUV.

“Jamie,” a man calls.

I duck behind the dumpster and then peek my head out enough to see my mom walking back to the SUV, the same SUV from the gas station the other week. The driver’s window is rolled down, revealing the same guy. But it’s when she leans her head in and the two of them kiss—likekiss,kiss—that my heart drops, hitting every rib on the way down. Horrified, I freeze, and when he drives off, my mom turns to walk into the building.

She comes to an abrupt halt when she catches sight of me.

“Harlow,” she says as naturally as she can, but her voice flits nervously. “Honey, what are you doing here?”

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