Clever Girl

Chapter 25: a million jagged pieces

The cool air brushes against my skin and pours into my soul, and I breathe in the anger. My breath catches in my chest, and a brutal tightness forms within, then releases itself a second later. 

The streets are quiet, but every small sound echoes loudly through the shadows of the night, coming back and slapping me across the face. I walk quickly, my arms wrapped around myself, not knowing where I'm going. The control I had over everything is now gone, lost in those echoes, and I have no idea how to get it back. 

My phone rang many times earlier, and every time it was either my mom or my dad, but I placed it on silent about ten minutes ago. I don't want to talk to them. I don't want to hear them tell me I'm not my own person, or that I broke a promise, or whatever else they think might trigger my guilt. How can they ask me to go back when the only thing that actually makes me happy is to help them?

Stay calm, Veronica. Everything will be fine. 

But what if it's not? What if it breaks into a million jagged pieces, and I can't put everything back together? While I often try not to look at things with a grim perspective - tonight, at this very second, I can't help but let the grimness overtake me. It engulfs my mind and burns into my heart, and the chilly air of the night itself seems to mock me for it.

As the night evolves, and I wander the streets alone, the idea of returning to Apollo becomes more and more real. I hate that place with every fiber of my being. I hate everything it represents, and what it'll mean if I return. All these years of pretending will be for nothing. A wasted stretch of incurable time.

Soon I find myself sitting on a bench in a small park that's two blocks from my house. Thoughts of my mother's illness, of my own failures, of Matty's opinion on my stance on school, of Jay and Will, and everything that has happened in the last few days swim around in my mind, and I start to drift off.

Maybe I can close my eyes for a minute, forget everything, somehow force myself to dream of something better, another time, another life.

~

The sound of a distant car horn wakes me.

I take out my phone and let out a gasp when I see that I've had twenty-three missed calls, and that it's almost three in the morning. My neck and back ache from the hardness of the seat, and my throat is dry with deserted pain.

After I had run out of the house, I had considered the option of continuing to lie to my parents. Of pretending like I'm going to school, but rather spending the days at another full-time job where my father doesn't know the owner, or in the public library writing papers for money. But after waking up in the park, with bad dreams of my mother's pain and my father's unfiltered disappointment, the mere thought of creating yet another elaborate charade fills me with severe anxiety.  

I feel like I am two halves of a whole. One half wants to see my parents happy, and that happiness relies on me keeping my promise and returning to school. The other half wants to spend my whole life, now and forever, working and providing for them, and not letting anything sidetrack me.

***

It's Sunday night now, and through extreme spite, I've realized that I have no choice but to return to Apollo. It's a different path, but there is no doubt in my mind that I can maneuver my way around every distraction. It'll take some time adjusting to a new schedule, especially if I'm going to hold up my end of the deal and not downplay my intellect. 

"I don't think you'll regret coming back. Once you get going, without pretending like you don't know anything, you'll see it'll be worth it," Will says.

I'm at his house, and we've just finished going over minor details of both his own business of selling CBD oil, and my writing papers. Through our conversations, I've held back tears, though the ache in my throat from crying non-stop the night before still sears my conscience. "I hope you're right. Because I hate Apollo. Every time I set foot there, it's like a part of my soul dies or something."