Cleaning Out My Closet

Chapter Thirteen

The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.

 Flannery O'Connor

The next day at school, I glanced over my shoulder constantly when I walked down the halls. I was sure Blithe would be tearing into me at some point during the day, and I wanted to have a chance to defend myself if I needed to.

To my surprise, though, nothing happened. The whole day was rather uneventful, other than seeing a picture of Nate’s date to prove that she wasn’t imaginary. When the day ended, I was mystified.

“I can’t believe she didn’t say anything to me,” I told Braxton as we left last period study hall.

“Mhmm,” he replied, and I looked up at him curiously. He’d been quiet for almost the whole day and there were dark circles hidden in the light tan on his face.

“Are you okay?” I asked, stopping in a corner beside a small corridor to keep from backing up traffic.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied not so convincingly. “Hey listen, can I come over to your house?” he asked in a rush.

“Sure, I doubt anybody would mind,” I said, but was still looking up at him, trying to decipher his emotions. He was trying to hide it, but something was really troubling him. I could see it in his dark hazel eyes.

“Thanks,” he replied and started walking to the double doors leading to freedom. As he walked over to his car and got in, I leaned in my mom’s window.

“Hey, can Braxton come over?” I asked, and a smile spread on her face.

“Of course he can,” she replied happily, and I tried not to grimace. I could only hope that she wouldn’t make a spectacle.

“’Kay, I’m going to ride with him,” I said and walked off before she could start dancing in joy. As I slammed the door behind me, I took a deep breath and turned to the dark headed boy beside me. It was in moments like this that I remembered I was spending so much time with this gorgeous, nice guy and got intimidated. He hadn’t noticed my gaze as he looked over his shoulder and concentrated on backing out of the parking spot. The sunlight coming through his window backlit his hair, bringing out reddish-brown tones in it that complimented his eyes, framed in long dark lashes.

What the hell am I doing here? I thought unsteadily. I moved my gaze as he turned around, looking out my window instead.

“You’re biting your lip,” Braxton said quietly, and I let it go.

“What’s going on, Braxton?” I asked again, looking at the dashboard in front of me. When he didn’t answer, I tried another tactic. “Did you and your parents get in a fight again?”

He let out a harsh sigh, like letting out the air that’d kept him standing all day. “My mom found my laptop and read some of my writing. She got really upset and had my dad come home early. They deleted all my works.”

I looked over at him sharply. “Oh my God, that’s terrible! Why would they do that?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. I’ve got everything on a jump drive anyway. They’re ‘looking out for my wellbeing’, apparently. To them, writing isn’t a real career and I need to get my head out of the clouds now so I can start preparing for med school.”

I shook my head. “That’s not right though. Have you told them how you feel about all this?”

“There’s no point. My dad’s a doctor, my grandpa was too, and my uncle’s a psychologist. It’s a whole family of doctors and I have to carry on the tradition,” Braxton said, sounding robotic.