{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode Island, with her best friend. She is in despera...
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Chapter Song: Deep End by Birdy
I had to keep running until I woke up from this dream—or this nightmare.
None of this was real.
I wasn't this girl. I wasn't anyone's girl.
I'd been pretending all summer long that my life wasn't falling apart. That boys and drinks and floating in the sea could distract me from hard truths. But instead of being distracted, they'd all been shoved in my face.
So, I didn't stop running as I made my way down the steps and out the door. I didn't look back. I didn't want to feel the things I was feeling.
I wasn't floating anymore. I was drowning. Salt water and gasping breaths.
I didn't know how to stop the pain from sucking me under. Hopelessness like an undertow. A riptide. Nothing I did or said or tried could change my reality.
I had cancer. And I was going to have surgery. And my life would never be the same.
This was my reality.
There was no other normal. Every day of the rest of my life would be different.
And in my last attempt to turn the pain into something palatable, I'd pushed my pain onto Spencer and West. The thought strangled me with another sob.
Wiping tears from my eyes, I wasn't looking where I was going and ran straight into someone.
"Miss Stella?"
I swiped at my tears, realizing I knew this face. "Turner?" I croaked.
"What is the matter?" Turner asked. His tone kindly and filled with concern.
Before I knew what I was doing, my arms were around his waist, and I was leaking tears onto his neat dress shirt.
"I don't know," I sobbed. "I need to get back home. Can you help me?"
"Of course, Miss Stella." Turner unwound my arms from him before pulling out his phone but paused before dialing a number. "When you say home, do you mean Newport or San Diego?"
San Diego?
I hadn't been thinking about going back to Cali. When I said I wanted to go home—I'd meant my grandparent's house. The little bungalow in Middletown.
But, if I went back to Rhode Island, I'd have to face him. And them. I wasn't ready for that. I didn't know if I'd ever be ready.
"San Diego."
Turner gave me a stern look, then placed a call to have the aircraft readied for San Diego. "I can have Hollands take you to La Guardia airport if you'd like."
I didn't know Hollands. I didn't want to see another unfamiliar face. My lip wobbled.
