You're Not Enough

Chapter 57

As I walk up, I spot both of my parent's cars in the driveway. I don't really want to go home, but I know I have to.

It's already late, my appointment was over at four-thirty, and now it's five forty-two. My conversation with Travis wasn't that long; even with everything with Ryder, it still wasn't that long.

I was walking slow, extra slow. My mind kept replaying Ryder's words. I'm done with you; I'm tired of you. You and I aren't friends.

God, I'm so stupid; why would I even attempt to say that. I know he and I aren't friends. I don't want to be friends with him. I just thought maybe... maybe, I don't even know what I thought. That was my problem. I shouldn't have been thinking anything. I already know... I know who he is; I shouldn't be thinking about him becoming someone else because he will never change.

I walk up to the house and grab the key out from under the mat. I unlock the door and go in.

"Jayda? Jayda, is that you?" My mother asks from down the hall. She sticks her head out of her office. Her office? She must have stayed home from work. But why is she in her study? She never works in there. She rushes over to me. "Oh, sweetie, are you ok?"

"I'm fine." I simply say.

"Why didn't you call. We called you several times," She says.

"My phone died." I walk past her and toss the house key into one of the bowls.

My father appears at the top of the steps and asks, "Where were you?"

"I went back to school after my appointment. I left something in my locker." I lie.

He walks down the stairs and over to where my mother and I are standing. "Why didn't you answer our calls?" He asks.

"Marcus, her phone died." My mother says before I can answer his question.

"How was your appointment?" He asks.

"Honey, she just got in; why don't you let her go get cleaned up? We can all talk about this over dinner." My mother says. My father looks at me and then moves out the way. I walk past him and up the stairs.

As soon as I open the door to my room, I walk over to my desk and place my bookbag in my chair. I unzip my bag and pull out the small container of pills. I read the label.

Clexa take one a day.

I've never heard of this one before. I think back to my time at the facility; during group, people would talk about the medication they were on; I don't recall anyone taking Clexa. I sit the pills on my desk, walk over to my nightstand and place my phone on the charger. I undress, grab my towel, and then head to the shower.

...

I dry my hair with my towel and shake my head, allowing my curls to fall. I walk over to my dresser and grab my blue basketball shorts along with a white T-shirt.

"Jayda, dinners ready!" My mom calls.

"Coming!" I yell back. I slip on my clothes and then walk over to my nightstand and grab my phone. Soon as I pick it up, I see seven missed calls from Ryder. Another call comes to my phone. It's him. I quickly decline the call and then turn off my phone. I place it back on my nightstand and then walk out of my room.

After an awkward 30 minutes of silence at the dinner table, my mother asks.

"How was school?"

I reply by saying the same thing every teenager says when asked about school, "It was fine."

"So when does this stem team meet? Is it every day, every other day?"

"We meet twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays." I say.