Текст книги "Just Me"
Автор книги: L.A. Fiore
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter Twelve
The fall leaves slowly gave way to the bitter cold of winter and before I knew it, it was almost Christmas. Bastian had been gone for almost three weeks, three long and lonely weeks.
Christmas had been the one day of the year that my mom had pulled it together and stayed sober, and I adored it. Every year that I was with her, I woke on Christmas day to a small tabletop tree with a single present underneath it. The gift was usually something from the dollar store, but I cherished what it represented. For that day, we were a real family. Dinner usually consisted of frozen meals that we microwaved, but I would have happily eaten dirt just to have her smile and talk to me like she had done every Christmas. Knowing in the morning she would revert back to her normal ways, getting drunker as the day wore on, didn't cause resentment in me. I was thankful for what she had been able to give me. After I met the Wrights and saw how they celebrated the holidays with their decorating, cookie-making and the annual viewings of the Christmas classics, it only had me appreciating all that much more the time I had had with my mom. We hadn't celebrated as elaborately as the Wrights, but the same vein of love wove through our simple celebrations. Even after my mom died, the holiday still remained special because of those happy memories.
This year it was going to be bittersweet for me though, because it was Bastian and my first Christmas together…apart.
He was supposed to have come home, but there was a change of plans and the crew was asked to stay on over the holidays. They were being paid triple time, which was great, but I couldn't deny I wanted him home with me.
It was the day of the annual Wrights' Christmas tree extravaganza, an affair I never missed. The entrance hall of the Wrights’ house was huge, three stories high, which meant that every year they purchased the biggest tree known to humankind. It was so big that special tree people had to come in to set it up in a cartoonishly large tree stand. The tree was even wired to the wall, once all the decorations were on, so it didn't fall over. After the tree was decorated, it was tradition to spend the rest of the night drinking hot chocolate, eating cookies and watching Christmas movies.
The day was simple, even a bit childish, but the closeness I felt to others—the welcome and acceptance—really made it special. Bastian grew up as neglected as me, so I knew that the perfect simplicity of the day would have meant to him what it did to me, but it wasn't to be this year.
I was in the living room testing the lights as the only one who had the patience to unknot the strands. Poppy, Sophia and Caden were in the kitchen whipping up the cookies for later and the Wrights were helping the tree guys. Shawn was coming, which I was happy about. Poppy and he hadn't officially broken up, but it was coming. Regardless, he was part of this tradition too. The doorbell rang.
“Can you get that, Lark?” Dr. Wright called to me.
“Sure.”
I untangled myself from the light mess I had created and went into the foyer where the scent of pine filled the hall. It smelled so good. I thought as I reached for the door and pulled it open. It took me a minute to react since I wasn't quite sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Bastian smiled in that way of his and that was all it took for my body to react without needing any help from my head. I threw myself into his arms. “Bastian!”
“Surprise beautiful.”
“I've missed you.”
He buried his face in my hair. “Understatement.”
“You told me you had to work.”
“I lied.”
“I'm so happy to see you that I'll let you live.”
“Well, let the boy in, Lark,” Dr. Wright said from behind me. I reluctantly pulled away from Bastian and turned to her. “You knew?” I was incredulous.
“Of course I knew. Hello, Bastian. You made good time.”
He threw me a grin before moving past me to hug Dr. Wright. “I was in a bit of a hurry,” he said as he looked back at me. My heart rolled over in my chest. This just officially became my very favorite Christmas ever.
“You can help me with the lights,” I volunteered as I reached for Bastian. I looked over at Dr. Wright. “Thank you.”
“It wouldn't be Christmas without him,” she said.
As soon as we were out of sight, Bastian pulled me into his arms and fused his mouth to mine. Pressing myself against him, I gave back as good as I was getting. Poppy's voice jarred us out of our reunion.
“Hi, Bastian.”
He kept his one arm firmly around my waist and turned to Poppy. “Hi.”
Sophia was chewing on a cookie. “Hey Bastian.”
Caden walked in then. “Took you long enough, man.”
“Everyone knew?” I was outraged.
“Of course we all knew, silly girl.” Poppy teased before she started toward the boxes of ornaments. “They're done getting the tree up, so let's have at it.”
***
That night, after everyone went to bed, Bastian and I sat on the floor in the foyer and looked up at the twinkling lights.
“I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here. You are the best Christmas present ever.”
“I was always coming, Lark.” He brushed his knuckles across my cheek, “I do actually have a present for you, but it's going to be a belated one.”
“Really? Want to give me a hint?”
“No.”
“Just a little one?”
He rested back on his hands and shook his head. “Not even a little one.”
“Fine, be that way.”
He moved with astounding speed and pulled me across his lap. “So let's talk about my present,” he cooed.
“I got you the first five seasons of Downton Abbey.”
“No you didn't.”
“You're right. I only got you the first season.”
“Lark.”
Grinning, I reached under the tree for a small package wrapped in silver. “Here.”
He looked like a little boy, his eyes all wide with wonder, as he slowly unwrapped the package. His fingers weren't quite steady when he lifted the lid to the box. Inside was a framed sketch I had done of us, sitting in the living room of the apartment. It took me a while because I had trouble sketching myself, but I was thrilled with how it turned out. He met my gaze and for a moment we just looked our fill. “It's beautiful, Lark.”
“Merry Christmas.”
He leaned over and touched his lips to mine. “Merry Christmas.”
***
With the coming of the new year, I spent a lot of time doubling up on assignments since I'd be taking my exams a few months before everyone else—like Bastian, though it didn't come as easily for me as it apparently had for him. I missed him constantly. Even though our week together gave me many more memories for my happy place.
My brain was on overload, feeling much like a ticking time bomb. Genuine gratitude filled me for the reprieve offered when I looked up from my homework to see Poppy standing in my doorway. My mouth opened to offer a witty remark, but one glance and I knew that she and Shawn had officially called it quits.
“Poppy.”
“I knew it was going to be hard but I didn't think it was going to be this hard.”
“How did he take it?”
“He cried. I've never seen Shawn cry.”
The flood gates opened then and I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do but offer her comfort, which I did and pulled her close. It took a bit for her sobs to subside. She seemed embarrassed since she jerked away from me and refused to look in my direction.
“Poppy, talk to me.”
Her red-rimmed eyes met mine from across the room. “Did I make a mistake?”
“Did you make a mistake or do I think you made a mistake? You're the best judge of that, but don't confuse missing what's comfortable with making a mistake.”
She rubbed her hands over her face. “I know you're right. It's been off, for both of us, but it hurts seeing his face and knowing that after everything, I hurt him.”
“He'll move past it and I think you'll both find your way as friends because you started as friends.”
“I hope you're right.”
“Time will tell, but I think I am.”
Sadness still marred her expression, so I sought to take her mind from it. “I think ice cream is in order. Let's go raid the freezer.”
“Brilliant idea.”
We had only reached the stairs when Poppy gave me a quick hug from the side. “Thanks for listening.”
“Always.”
***
From my spot against the wall, I’d been watching Poppy and Caden at this post-Valentine’s Day party and maybe it was just my imagination, but things looked intense between them. I wasn't sure what fueled it, but I definitely planned on talking with Poppy about it later.
Sophia was on the West Coast touring Berkley, the school she hoped to attend in the fall. Normally exuberant, she'd been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement over the trip. My fingers were crossed that she'd get in, she was currently on the wait-list, because I knew how much she wanted to go there.
The party was packed, but I just couldn't seem to get myself in the mood to party. What was the point? Instead of Bastian and I sharing our senior year together, he was still hundreds of miles away.
My attention drifted to Mica, who stood near the door. Instead of her preferred party attire of a short skirt and tight blouse, she wore baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and it seemed as if she was looking for an excuse to escape. What was going on with her?
I didn't realize that someone had come to stand next to me until I heard my name. “Hi Lark.”
“Hey Brad.”
“You don't look like you're enjoying this.” He said but his focus was across the room to where Poppy and Caden were. If Brad was interested in Poppy, the sight of her with Caden was likely going to force him to make his move or he might just lose the chance.
Shifting my thoughts to his question, I answered honestly, “I'm really not. Can't get my head into it tonight.”
“It's a little less crowded in the back. I think there's even a place to sit, so you don't have to stand here and hold up the wall.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I could sit but there was a part of me that wondered if he offered the quiet room so he could feel me out to see if he had a chance with Poppy. Not that I would discuss Poppy with him without talking to her first, but my heart went out to him. I tried to catch her eye to let her know what I was up to, but her focus was completely on Caden. I felt a bit bad for Brad because despite what was happening across the room, there was no denying the sparks between Poppy and Caden. I suspected Brad had already lost his chance.
Brad had been right, the room wasn't just quiet, it was completely empty. Oh, heavenly sofa. A moment after I settled on it, Brad joined me. He rested his head back and said on a sigh, “This is so much better. I was starting to get a headache.”
“It is loud out there,” I said almost absently.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Brad turned more fully to me and asked, “What's going on with you and Bastian?”
I wasn't expecting that and I couldn't deny the flash of apprehension that lit through me at the question. Trying to be as vague as possible, I said, “It's a long story, but we're still together.”
“At the pep rally you had just started dating, right?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you're still together. That's cool, I've never had much luck with girls or dating anyway.”
“Really?” Brad was not only cute, but he seemed like a really easy-going guy. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one.”
“Maybe.” He bounced his head lightly on the padded seat back, as if in thought. “You love him?”
Discomfort moved through me talking about this with Brad, so I sought to change the subject.
“What are you doing next year?” I asked.
“Subject change. Too personal, I get it.” His stare unnerved me. It was the first time that I didn't feel completely at ease in his presence. “Is it true that he left school and is up north working?”
Persistence was not always a favorable trait. “It's not that simple, but yeah.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Man, that has got to be hard on both of you.”
“You have no idea.” My exhale felt more like a sigh.
“Bastian must be one tough guy.”
His comment struck a nerve with me, and caused a warning to prickle my spine. “What do you mean by that?”
“To voluntarily stay away from you. I wouldn't have the willpower to do that.” He added.
It wasn't so much what he said, but how he said it that made me even more uneasy. Brad was my friend, he was Bastian's friend, but there was something about him tonight that felt off. My gut was telling me to seek out Poppy and Caden.
“I think I'm going to call it a night. I'll see you at school.” I started to rise and noticed for the first time that the door was closed. Brad grabbed my arm and pulled me back down onto the sofa.
“Where are you going? Stop playing coy, Lark.”
Okay, it was no longer a prickling sensation, but alarm bells going off in my head. “Brad, I'm really tired. Please let go of my arm.”
“This is fated, you and me. Did you know that?”
“What?”
He moved so quickly, pressing me into the sofa as his overly aroused body covered mine.
“Get off me!” I shouted as I pushed at him. At first I thought he was teasing—completely inappropriately—but teasing all the same.
“You're so hot. Just looking at you gets me hard. I can't tell you how many times I've jacked off thinking about getting in between your legs.”
What was happening? My brain refused to process the horror of what Brad was doing because I couldn't believe he was actually doing it.
He ground his hips painfully against my stomach. “Like the skirt, easy access,” he purred, causing bile to rise up my throat. This could not be happening. “It's cool, Lark. You've already spread them for Bastian, so there's no harm. He never even has to know.”
Who was this monster disguised as a friend? Fear turned me into a crazy person as I struggled to push him off, but he was too strong. Then his mouth came down painfully on mine. He gripped my one arm and pulled so hard that he almost dislocated it. My cry of pain muffled by his punishing mouth. “Stop fighting it,” he hissed.
Fear and confusion welled in me. I didn't understand the violence and anger that pulsed off him. And I couldn't make him stop, no matter how hard I tried. I attempted to appeal to the affable guy I thought I knew. “Please let me go, Brad. I don't want this and you're hurting me.”
He actually laughed. “No way. I finally have you right where I want you. You're going to love every second of this.”
He forced his leg between my thighs and pulled down his zipper. My scream was cut short by the pressure of his mouth. He bit my lips to demand silence. Bucking my hips, I hoped to throw him off balance, but that only made him laugh as he rubbed himself against me. I went completely still, closed my eyes and felt myself going to another place, so I wouldn't have to endure what was about to happen to me. Suddenly he was gone and when I opened my eyes, Caden stood over a now bleeding Brad sprawled out on the floor. And I saw other people standing just behind him. Shame filled me as I closed my eyes and started to cry.
“You're okay. Oh my God! You are okay, Lark.” Poppy came from behind Caden and rushed to my side. My tears fell harder realizing that it could have been Poppy in here with Brad. She reached for her phone and called home. Something ugly moved through me, a thought I tried to shut down but one that took root anyway. Maybe I was more like my mom than I thought. Maybe I had asked for this somehow.
“Thank God Mica came to find us,” Poppy said.
“What?”
“Mica heard someone scream and when she opened the door, she saw Brad on top of you, so she ran to find me.”
Of all the people to save me, it was Mica—someone I never liked, but after this, I was willing to accept that I may have been wrong about her. She studied me from her spot near the door. There was sympathy in her expression, but I saw something else too, understanding. “Thank you.”
She nodded in response before she turned and left the room.
“Stay down, asshole.” Caden growled to Brad. He lowered to his haunches in front of me. I could tell from Caden’s dark expression that I looked like hell. “He didn't...” He curled his hands into fists as he tried to ask the question I knew he didn't want to hear the answer to.
I was quick to answer since Caden looked ready to kill Brad and as much as the idea appealed to me, I didn't want Caden going to jail. “No, he didn't.”
He peered over his shoulder to a nearly unconscious Brad and spat at him. “You get to fucking live, shithead.”
There was a commotion at the door seconds before Mr. and Dr. Wright appeared. Right behind them were the police.
I had never seen Mr. Wright in full lawyer mode but he was a force to be reckoned with. While Dr. Wright sat on my other side and held my hand, Mr. Wright took charge and within twenty minutes, statements had been taken and Brad was taken into custody. The Wrights drove me to the hospital where I had to suffer through an exam which included having someone photograph my bruises and collecting DNA from under my fingernails. Shock had muddled my brain, but even when the shock subsided I knew clarity wouldn't follow. The boy in that room with me was not the Brad I had come to know. It was terrifying, the Jekyll and Hyde performance I had witnessed tonight.
By the time we got back to the house, the shock had worn off a bit. But the horror of the evening began to sink in. Caden walked me to the sofa, Poppy wrapped a blanket around me and Mr. Wright pressed a glass into my hand. The smell confirmed that it was alcohol, but I downed it and the warmth that immediately filled me helped to push back the terror.
“We need to call Bastian,” Caden said as he reached for his phone.
“Please don't.” My answer immediately had all eyes on me.
“Why not?” Caden asked.
In truth, I felt dirty. Having a mother like I did, I couldn't move past the possibility that I had somehow brought on Brad's behavior. Dr. Wright must have been reading my mind. She said fiercely, “You did nothing wrong, Lark. Rape is about control, nothing more.”
I heard her words and I knew I should call Bastian, but I couldn't help feeling that I had somehow asked for it. I didn't want Bastian to look at me and feel disgust or something worse.
“There's nothing he can do and telling him now will only make him insane. Please, I'll tell him, just not tonight,” I said.
“Okay, if that's what you want…,” Mr. Wright said. “But you are pressing charges.”
I met his hard stare and replied, “Absolutely.”
Physically I was exhausted, and though I knew sleep wouldn't come, I wanted to be alone. Dr. Wright seemed to know what I was thinking. “If you need to talk about it, our door is open,” she said.
“Thank you.”
Poppy hugged me hard. “Do you want me to sleep in your room?”
“Thanks, but no.”
“Okay. If you change your mind...”
I started from the room, but Caden stopped me. Our gazes met and held—he still looked furious, and I knew I’d feel shaky for a while longer—at the same time we stepped into each other. I buried my face in his shoulder as he pulled me close. He brushed his lips over my forehead before he took a step back. I managed a weak smile to hide the fact that I couldn't think of any words to express my gratitude for what he did for me, but he seemed to understand.
When I reached my room, I closed the door and immediately started frantically pulling off my clothes as I headed to the bathroom. I cranked the water up as hot as I could tolerate as I scrubbed every inch of my body. I jumped out of the shower for my toothbrush and brushed like a madwoman to get his taste out of my mouth. My skin was red and raw and my gums were swollen from brushing so hard, but I felt better. I slid down the wall of the shower and rested my forehead on my upturned knees.
The only person I wanted with me was the one person I was terrified to tell about my ordeal. I had willingly gone into that room with Brad. Had I asked for it? Had I subconsciously brought this on myself? Bastian’s face hovered just there behind my eyes and his look of disgust sent a chill through me. Would he think less of me? Would he look at me differently? The idea of it, of losing him, sent tears blending in with the spray from the shower.
Later that night while I lay in bed, I remembered Brad's odd comment about fate and us being linked. What had he meant by that?
***
The following morning, I couldn't look in the mirror, because my lips were bruised: a very visual reminder of the horror from the night before. I showered again and brushed my teeth to the point of blood. Just thinking about last night made me sick, physically ill. Part of me believed it had just been a terrible nightmare, but one look in the mirror disproved that. How had I not seen what hid under Brad's affable exterior? Never would I have believed that he was capable of hurting me and that was what fueled my fear that perhaps I really had brought it on myself. I wanted Bastian, wanted him to wrap me in his arms and make it all go away.
My thoughts turned to Mica. Had she been on the receiving end of Brad's unwanted attention too? Was that why her personality had changed so radically? They were friends, Brad and Mica. What a betrayal, it would have been like Shawn attacking me. It made sense though, how she no longer sought attention but tried to hide from it. A snippet of the conversation with my uncle about my mom flashed into my head. Hadn't my uncle said my mother had done the same, that she had withdrawn from everyone? My God, was it possible? No, I was still in shock and not thinking clearly.
Before I called Bastian, I needed to tell someone who was much closer to home. I called my uncle and asked if we could meet. He was so excited to hear from me that I felt guilty for not keeping in touch more often. As much as I hated my aunt, my uncle had only ever been kind.
We agreed to meet at the local cafe in town, which served mostly coffee and sandwiches, but it was the sitting areas with plush sofas and comfortable chairs that encouraged patrons to linger and chat.
My uncle was already there. As soon as he saw me, he stood up to greet me but when he saw my face, his joy turned into anger. “What happened to you?”
“It's why I wanted to talk with you.”
He gestured to the chair, and while he took his seat he studied me for a moment. “I'm listening.”
After a deep breath, I shared my nightmare. He sat silently and listened and the only reaction I saw in him was the hardening of his jaw and the fury that turned his eyes darker.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“And you've pressed charges?”
“Yes.”
“I'd like to assist Mr. Wright, if that is okay with you.”
His offer surprised me, but I readily accepted it. “I'm surprised by Brad's behavior, pissed and furious as well, but surprised. Brad participated in quite a few of the fundraisers that I helped with for your school and he always seemed like a good kid. His father, on the other hand, has no respect for women. We all went to school together, and he was just one of those guys that wanted what he wanted and to hell with how anyone else felt about it. There was even rumor that he had crossed the line into abusive, but I never picked up on that trait in Brad.”
“Neither did I. We were friends, at least I thought we were.” The news about Brad's father was as disturbing as it was revealing: like father, like son.
My uncle started to reach across the table to offer comfort, but seemed to think better of it and I guessed because he wasn't sure if I wanted to be touched after my ordeal. I reached for him and he instantly closed his fingers around mine. “Thank you for telling me. I'm really sorry about how things ended with your aunt, but you are family, at least to me.”
Tears slipped from my eyes at his sincerity. “For me too.”
***
Later that day I had to go into the police station to make a formal statement. Afterwards, as I sat waiting for my uncle and the Wrights to finish up with the detective, someone sat down right next me. I wasn't surprised to see it was Mica.
“How are you doing?” The concern in her voice almost made me lose it right there.
“I'm okay. Thank you for what you did at the party.” I tried to say more, but my words got clogged in my throat. Understanding moved over her expression, “It happened to you too, didn't it?” I asked.
“Yeah. It's why I'm here. They are re-opening my case.”
“They closed it?!” I was appalled.
“Yeah, because it was my word against his. I was even encouraged strongly by Brad's lawyer to not defame his client or I'd be brought up on charges. My own lawyer told me that had he raped me, I would have had a stronger case.” A noticeable shudder worked through her. “I never saw it, never saw the monster just below the surface.”
“Neither did I.”
“He was a part of my clique, we hung out all the time. When he attacked me, I didn't understand because his actions were so contrary to the boy I thought I knew.”
“I don't know him like you do, but that sounds exactly like what happened to me.”
“I saw him talking to you at the party. I kept an eye on you, but I turned away for a few minutes and when I looked again, you were gone. I was looking for you when I heard the screaming. I'm sorry.”
“Please don't, Mica. If it wasn't for you...” I didn't finish the thought, because it was too horrific to ponder. “Was that why you came into the art room that day?”
“Yeah, I saw Brad coming out and I worried since I'd noticed he was paying more attention to you, especially after Bastian left.”
All those times I caught her watching me, to think she was watching out for me. I had definitely been wrong about her. As wrong as I had been about who Brad was showing an interest in.
“I guess the upside in all of this is with you stepping forward and me, maybe others will too,” she said with determination.
“You think there are others?” I hated the thought of that.
“Yeah, I do. He's done it before and you can be damn sure he'll do it again.”
***
That night, I called Bastian.
“Lark, I was just talking about you to my boss.”
He sounded so happy that I hated what I was about to do, but he needed to know. “Bastian, I need to tell you something.”
His voice hardened. “Did my parents do something?”
“No. God, I don't even know how to say this.”
“Just say it, Lark.”
“Poppy, Caden and I went to a party last night and Brad was there. He tried to rape me.”
Dead silence met my ears. I had no doubt that Bastian was struggling to equate such a violent act with the kid we all thought we knew.
“Did he hurt you, Larkspur?” His voice sounded flat, almost distant, which had my fear of his rejection escalating. I was also momentarily stunned into silence with him calling me Larkspur, so it took me a minute to answer. Clearly a minute too long. Bastian roared, “Did he hurt you?!”
“No, Caden pulled him off of me, beat the shit out of him, and I pressed charges.”
“I'm leaving now. I'll be at the Wrights' in four hours.” He clicked off before I could respond, leaving me standing there staring at my phone. Excitement at seeing him warred with my fear of his potential rejection.
I made my way into the house and down the hall to the kitchen before dropping onto one of the kitchen stools. Dr. Wright and Poppy were already making dinner.
“I'll snip the beans.”
Poppy grinned in response and brought over the bowl. “Thank you. I really hate snipping the beans.”
“Bastian's on his way.”
Dr. Wright turned to me and I saw understanding in her gaze. “Are you okay?”
“I am, but it's going to be late when he gets here. Would you mind if I made up a bed in one of the guest rooms?”
She joined Poppy and me. “Considering he's coming to see you…and don't get any ideas, Poppy…but under the circumstances, I'm okay with him staying in your room.” She leaned over and touched her palm to my cheek. “Are you really okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
I did but I wanted it to be with Bastian. She seemed to understand what I didn't say and said, “If you find you need a professional to talk to, I will help you find someone you feel comfortable talking to. Okay?”
“Yes,” I held her gaze, “I love you, Dr. Wright.”
“Oh, Lark, I love you. I'm sorry Bastian had to be told such news over the phone.”
I played with the beans for a moment, “All he wanted to know was if Brad had hurt me. He was so angry, he was almost calm.”
“It's hard enough on both of you to be going through this stuff with his parents, but he adores you and for him not to be here when you need him…yeah, I understand his anger.”
Dr. Wright ran her hand down Poppy's hair. “You are a very wise young woman.”
Watching Poppy with her mom brought on a wave of envy because their relationship was beautiful. Dr. Wright turned her gaze to mine.
“The whole situation makes me so angry. How dare the Rosses manipulate and threaten people.”
I understood Dr. Wright's anger. “You should have seen them the night of his birthday dinner. His father couldn't even bother to look at him and his mother's stare was more appropriate for someone checking the cleanliness of a house after the cleaning crew had been through. Do you know they never once wished him a happy birthday? They spent the entire time demeaning him in front of me. And the really sad thing was that none of it came as any surprise to Bastian. Their outrageous behavior was the norm.”
I noticed tears in Dr. Wright’s eyes. “And yet he and his brother are both exceptional young men despite the abuse of their parents,” she said. “And it is abuse—not physical but mental, and just as destructive, as you are well aware from your aunt's treatment. Well, if Bastian wasn't off doing something he enjoyed, something that was good for his long-term goals, Mr. Wright and I would have fought harder to keep him here. Even so, the Rosses won't be getting away with manipulating Bastian or threatening people.”
Fought harder? I wondered what she meant, but the conversation shifted, so I let it pass.
After dinner I helped with the clean up before I went up to my room to work on my homework. Maybe it was because I was feeling so melancholy, but I took a moment to really look at my little part of the Wright's home and felt a wave of warmth sweep through me. Dr. Wright insisted that I make the room my own, so I did. Painting it teal because it reminded me of Bastian's eyes and being surrounded by that reminder of him, when I wasn't able to be near him, was very comforting. The day we painted had been a lot of fun: painting, laughing and sitting cross-legged on the floor eating pizza in a room covered in drop cloths. Dr. Wright had taken Poppy and me shopping for furniture. The distressed white iron bed, with its scroll and floral details, was very feminine, but coupled with the contemporary hot pink cube side tables and the black and white bedding I picked out, made it look more eclectic rather than girlie. The walls were covered in my sketches. I had lived for almost ten years at my aunt's and yet I felt more comfortable in this room and I had only claimed it for a few months.
