Wrong Quarterback | ✓

27 | the aftermath

"Honey, I'm in the city today,"

Avery blinks at her mother's words, lashes sticking together from her tears – the touch of mascara once upon them leaving traces on her skin as she lets her head fall into her palm. Of course. She knew that already. Sarah is in New York, hours away, and won't be here until tonight. Today of all days.

"I forgot. Okay well I–"

"What's up?" She swallows at the sound of her mother's inquiring tone of voice. "Why aren't you in class right now? Why did you want me to come pick you up?"

Folding over herself, Avery loops her free arm around her legs where she's sat on the entrance steps of her school. She presses her lips together, relying on her deep inhales and exhales to keep the tears at bay while on the phone to her mother. The last thing she wants to do is worry her, especially when there's nothing she can do about it.

"Nothing," She says, clearing her throat as she hears the thickness in her voice. "I'm just... not feeling well."

"You can go home. If you want to," The soft-spoken words tells Avery her mother knows there's more to it than she's letting on but she doesn't prompt her any further over the phone. "I'll call and let them know it's okay."

"Okay," Avery has to swallow back a hiccup as she feels her throat tighten again and she struggles with another inhale of air before nodding to no one in particular. "Thank you."

Hanging up she stares at the screen of her phone, the list of her latest calls staring back up at her. The device is sticky between her fingers, screen coated in the salt wetness of her tears.

Everything had gone surprisingly well at first. But as soon as she'd been separated from Callie by their schedules for their last couple of classes for the day it went downhill. At way too quick a pace for her to keep up. Without Callie there to talk her ear off about anything and everything unrelated to what seems to be the most popular topic of the day – her – every other word spoken around her became much louder. Too loud.

She hasn't seen Luke since he disappeared at lunch. It's nothing new – they don't share any classes during the afternoon, she'd expected as much. As for Lea she saw her sprint past her classroom once, running late to her own. Nic – who actually shares several classes with her – hasn't completely ignored her which is a relief. He hasn't said much either though, for someone who's usually so loud he's been oddly quiet.

She has tried – really tried – to not let it all get under her skin. Not the video. Not her privacy being completely invaded and disregarded. Not the hushed words or the not so discreet whispers. But melting together with her worry for Ethan it had all been too much. Without Callie by her side to distract her, the exhaustion from it all soon got the upper hand. She hadn't stood a chance. With tears prickling her eyes, she'd gotten out of there before they could well up and leave her a weeping mess in the middle of the hallway. So here she is, never having shown up to her World Literature class – staring out at the parking lot and wanting to be anywhere else but here.

    Her fingers hovers over the next to latest call on the list, hesitating as an exhale resembling a sigh escapes her. She shouldn't call him right now. He's in class, as she should be. Calling won't do any of them any good right now.

    Still she finds herself pressing her finger to the screen before she can stop herself – feeling her throat tighten, thickness building up within it again as the signals pass. She struggles in maintaining her deep exhales and inhales now, her sight clouded by a teary haze once more. A sob involuntarily breaks through her lips just as there's a click on the other end of the call signaling he's picked up.