A Year Without Snow

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Thursday, 1st February 2017 - part 1

That day I woke up feeling anxious and restless. It had been almost a week since Bianca told me about Grace and Jack going to Bryson's house after the worst night of my life.

In the last couple of weeks, I hadn't been talking with Grace, but I hadn't been avoiding her either. But for the previous week, only the thought of looking her way made me want to throw up.

Amid my anger, what had made me stressed this Thursday morning was the fact that last night I finally had had the gut of calling Scar and telling her something I had known for a while. And because I was aware of her anger issues, I started the conversation with, "Promise you won't do anything about what I'm about to tell you." And after a hasty and curious, okay, I told her about the night that Bryson's sister had taken me home. She reacted as I expected, a lot of shouting and cursing until she hung up the phone abruptly. And my heartbeat began to quicken as I thought about her going to Grace's house at midnight, but then I heard a car on the driveway as I quietly went downstairs to open the door.

That late-night hang out consisted of a lot of "How could someone be so mean?" and "How could we have not suspected?" and a pointing of fingers coming my away with a stern affirmation "This doesn't mean it isn't Bryson's fault too."

And that opened a thought that I wasn't sure I wanted to go into. Could that little rendezvous with Jack and Grace plus the testimony of Carson enough to not make him believe me? After all, it had been the word of three people against the one. But that still didn't matter because he knew me the best, and he had no other obligation other than to believe me.

So I firmly put that matter to rest in my head, an issue that would be floating around dawning on me, whispering that he might be innocent.

Scar left at 2 A.M. that night and left me alone looking hopelessly out of my window into the dry road. At that moment, I missed looking out the window and seeing the white-covered streets; it really was starting to dawn on me the lack of snow and how it seemed to have a direct correlation with my life. I was happy when there was snow. I didn't feel like I was missing something important, like some foundation, a pillar holding a part of me together. One of the pillars fell after my Grandma's death—the other on last July. I still had many people to lean on, my mother and Scar, Dallas, who had been a massive cornerstone, even my recent friend Sophia with all the college plans. It all felt like a lot but just not enough.

I quickly fell asleep that night with rushing thoughts flying through my head.

Scar gave me a ride the following day, still going on and on about the whole Grace deal.

"I just don't get it!" She exclaimed while looking at me.

"Scar, eyes on the road, please."

She lifted her hand to her curly hair; She had it in an updo, pushed back in a ponytail, the blue on the ends fading out.

"She saw that and what?" Scar asked, "Went over to Jack and asked 'want to make an alliance with me?' Literally saw you get raped, went to Bryson's house and lied about it, -oh wait, with your rapist! It just doesn't make sense!" She concluded.

"I don't know, Scar. Just don't do anything." I pleaded.

"Well, I don't know how I'll feel when I look at that fucking bastard. I don't know how you've handled looking at her."

"I've been trying my best not to, actually," I said as we made a turn to our school.

As we made our way into school, Dallas approached us with a smile, "Hello, my ladies."

"Shut up, Dallas." Scar simply said, continuing to walk.

"Good morning, Scar." He said and turned to me asking what was the matter.