Cat & Drew's Whirlwind Adventure

19. If Only

Every step I've made since getting back from summer, those first ones that felt so important, even though they were small, and the bigger ones I've had to build up the courage to take, have been about the same thing. Learning to live again and sorting out what's pointless, and each of the cute distractions I've allowed myself to embark on were all in an attempt to make up, and cover up, the fact that this whole time I've been powerless. Utterly powerless. That's why I can't say the word, why I can't face what happened on that night one summer ago, and why ever since I've desperately been trying to figure out a way to get some of that power back. I hate that feeling—I hate it—I would do anything to keep the people I care about from having to feel like that too.

So it turns out, I'm not so powerless after all. There are still things I can control, differences I can make, and even when that little voice in my head issues its warnings about the destructive path I'm barreling down, I do the only thing that matters. Last night was restless, beset by the usual nightmares, as I tossed and turned and anguished about Cat's aunt throwing her out and what I could possibly do to help my friend. It felt like I didn't have much power there either, but then it came to me this morning, like half an hour ago actually, while I was stuck in the auditorium with the rest of my peers for the mandatory assembly the principal called before school.

Nothing special, it was basically a lecture on the consequences of damaging school property, and the morality of endangering staff and students alike by pulling such a violent and thoughtless prank—his words. Exactly what I expected after they busted Cat, but as our principal stood there, dragging her through the mud under the assumption that we couldn't figure out who he was referring to through his lazy attempts to hide her identity, I had an epiphany. Cat's aunt wouldn't be kicking her out if she wasn't mad, and she can't stay mad if Cat's name is cleared. So, I did what every teen movie from my childhood has conditioned me to do—I stood up and confessed in front of everybody that I was the one who set the fire, not her.

That's how I ended up here, back in the small seating area next to the principal's office where they put only the really bad kids, waiting for my parents to show. There are holes in the story, like how I've always been an overachieving and model student, but between all the sneaking out and deception I've been practicing at home, I think I'm finally good enough at lying that I can make my version of events convincing enough. I'll admit I'm afraid, but, this isn't the first time I've taken the plunge anyway for something that really matters.

"Drew, you in here?" A whisper creeps into the room after the door cracks open. Even if I didn't recognize the voice, which I do—I'd know it anywhere—I can tell it's Troy already before he peeks his head in.

"What are you doing back here, Troy? How'd you even get in?" I wonder. He would've had to sneak in through the front, passed the secretary. This likely isn't his first visit to this room though, I suppose it only makes sense he'd have the place wired. Regardless, there's no need for him to be here now, not when the damage is done. "You better get out of here before my parents come, I'm warning you, you don't want to be in the middle of this."

"And you do?" Completely ignoring what he's been told, Troy shuts the door and sits down beside me. His head shakes disapprovingly, and I can tell he doesn't have any jokes—he's all serious. "Do you have any idea how stupid this is? I know you want to help Cat, but this is insane, you could be expelled! You've worked too hard to throw it all away over her."

"What do you suggest, then? I'm not just going to leave her like this, so much bad stuff has already happened to her, I refuse to sit by and do nothing while she's thrown back into the system." There's no use, I know too well how he feels about Cat and there's no making him see otherwise. But I try. "She doesn't deserve that."