Trace

Chapter 18

Two weeks. My calls, voicemails, and texts had all gone unanswered. After the first day Harry had not replied or messaged me, I was worried. I thought something bad had happened to him. But, Toby had reassured me that he was alright and I would talk to him soon.

   Fourteen days. "Soon"?

 My heart has been sunk for the past week. Are me and Harry over? Repeatedly, I had tried to push that thought out of my mind. However, it didn't cure my lingering doubts. What the hell had gone wrong that Harry decided to take a "break" for two weeks? And not talk to me at all about it??

  Niall and I had met up for some days during the week and he held me while I cried, comforting me that everything would be alright. Sure it would be alright. Just three weeks earlier I was sure I was starting to be in love and I knew Harry felt the same way. So why ignore me?

  I sit up in my bed, and rub my tired eyes. Toby and Ayla both broke the news to Anne the day after Harry and I talked to them. Of course, she was devasted. Surprisingly, she wasn't as furious as I thought she'd be. I spent two days with her, and helped her out of it. She ended it with Toby and he was understanding yet heartbroken.

  Throughout the two week period, I had been working on my tan and I am proud to admit that I do indeed have a marvelous summer glow of bronze. Everyday, I'd go out in the morning and had been reading a collection of Nicholas Sparks in the garden for a few hours. My mum rarely came home, now. Apparently, my aunt has overdosed on anxiety pills and my mother has gone balistic. She's been in the hospital with her for a week now.

   I stare deeply at my reflection in my mirror and frown. I am not as depressed as I was last week without hearing from Harry, but still extremely confused and upset. I take a long shower and comb through my thick, wet hair. I put on a short yellow sundress and braid my hair down the right side. I grab my copy of The Last Song and descend the stairs to the back garden. Before I walk outside, I make a quick bowl of Cheerios and chow it down and down a glass of orange juice.

  I went to the doctor's office yesterday and they removed my horrible cast. It was a miracle they said I had healed so quickly, but I was still in doubt that my ankle was actually broken in the first place.

  The day is exceptionally warm this morning and the grass is green as ever. I take a seat on the blue picnic blanket I had laid out the day before and stretch out my legs and lean back on the large grey rock surrounded by grassy flowers. I open up my book and continue my reading from yesterday. I am so entirely lost in the book that I don't even hear the white gate open. Startled by the figure standing above me, I immediately look up and block the sun with my hand.

   "Harry?"

He smiles down at me. "Hiya, love."

I angrily stand up.

 "That's all you have to say to me?" I keep my voice low, but don't mask the hurt and anger.

"I know, I know. We have to talk," he answers.

   I exasperately throw up my hands, "Go on, then! Talk! Why have you stayed away for two weeks?"

Harry looks at me sadly and I am suddenly fearful at what he might say to me.

  "Can we sit?" he requests quietly, motioning to the blue picnic blanket.

I nod and slowly take a seat and he sits in front of me.

 "I see you got your cast off. That was fast, yeah? I wish I could have been there with you when you got it removed."

  "Me too," I reply, my voice barely audible.