(FEATURED)
It's been months since the unceremonious fall of Kimie Sato's older sister. The whole of Ridgerock High knows it, and by now, the majority have moved on. But Kimie still watches those who had a hand in it continue to walk free, and the mo...
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I liked the salted chips from Foodie, the fast food place downtown that West took me to.
The breeze out here was cool and refreshing, a big contrast to how it felt at school. Ridgerock made everyday seem bad even though things were perfectly fine away from it, and no matter how long I'd been going there, it was still difficult to get used to.
"Wow," I said to West as we leaned against his bike outside the building, talking around the delicious chips in my mouth. "Of all the places I thought you'd take me."
A car drove past us before he looked at me for the first time in a few minutes. "What were you expecting?"
"Something less delicious?" I suggested, and a corner of his lips quirked up, but he turned away from me again.
"This was the only place I could think of. My sister and I come here a lot."
I smiled at the amount of affection in his voice. "You have a sister?" I put another chip in my mouth, drowning in the taste like it was my first one.
"Yeah. Lily. She's a very petite thing. As delicate as her name, too."
I playfully bumped his shoulder with mine. "Don't refer to your sister as a thing. I know sisters can be annoying."
"I was just joking." He folded his arms over his chest and stared across the street, a distant look filling his eyes for a moment. "She . . . has panic attacks, too."
I stopped chewing, my stomach rumbling at the reminder.
"I bring her here every time it happens to cheer her up."
And he thought it would work with me.
I studied his profile while he was distracted by a laughing couple across the street. He wasn't saying it (or saying much, actually), but I knew what happened was bothering him. He was refusing to look me in the eyes, and something was off about his energy, distant.
I looked down at the little basket in my hand, focusing on the grease-stained napkin at the bottom, feeling embarrassed once again. This was all because of that stupid video.
Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, and I lost my appetite, suddenly feeling like everything I'd eaten that day was crawling up my throat, threatening to make a reappearance.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice low and soft like he was telling me a big secret. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
I played with the basket handle for a while in an attempt to stall, and saw him look at me out of the corner of my eye. "It wasn't your fault. I didn't know it would happen, either."
"Things must be hard for you, right?"
I gave him a humorless smile. "You have no idea."
There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he thought about it for a few beats before asking, "Is she . . . okay lately?"
