Daffodil Sprouts🌼

Ch. 35 ' Conflicts and Letters.

Well, sh*t.

Oops.

That's all I can think. That's all I can bring myself to think.

Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t.

If she has been telling mom all that . . .

I put my head down and rub at my face with both hands. My mind's befuddled. My life's befuddled.

"Are you okay?" Samuel asks, sending a glance my way.

"No," I say, then internally cringe at how dead I sound.

"Someone bothering you?"

"Yes."

I close my eyes. Gosh, I hate hearing this downcast voice of mine.

"Who?"

"Jason's girlfriend."

"What'd she do?"

I look at him, but only because he's looking at the road. "It's . . . it's not— one— thing . . . it's complicated."

"Have you told your mother?" he returns without a miss.

I look at him again, my features espousing dread.

That's where I messed up. That's where I'm messing up. I should have told her everything. I should be telling her everything.

"No," my mouth says.

He casts me another glance, the second one since we started this discussion. This one is riddled with confusion. "Why?"

Why?

Why?

Why haven't you been telling her, Yesmi?

"I . . . I don't know," I say more to myself than Samuel.

I just didn't. And, first, she wasn't around, then when she was . . .

Silly, silly excuses. If Bella had found time to tell her amidst all that, then I would've if I wanted to. I just didn't . . . think to tell her. It didn't occur to me to do so.

I was doing nothing wrong, but they weren't exactly things to be proud of either. Or things to be so excited about them to think of telling Mom. All those things, I didn't— I didn't attach any importance to them. Most importantly, I didn't think Bella could— would do this.

How was I to know she was this sick?

How was I to know it was this deep?

I trail off till we get to school. My mind just wanders, to a blank place, where I can at least get a little peace. I am so gone that Samuel has to tap me and tell me we've gotten to school.

I turn in the seat, focusing on my surroundings and confirming that we have indeed arrived.

"Thank you for bringing me," I say as I get down.

"You're welcome. Should I come to pick you?"

After thinking for a moment, I say, "No. My friends will bring me . . . or Jason."