Page 17 of Did They Break You

Tristan finally looks up, his eyes rimmed with tears.

There’s a lump in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Eat the cereal, buddy,” I tell him softly, finally grabbing my own spoon even though my appetite is gone. “I won’t tell her.”

I wipemy wrist over my brow, the late-summer heat getting to me as I finish my last mile at Hyde Park.

I shake out my hands by my sides, relishing in the release after a hellish morning at home. Tristan ate the cereal, but he went to his room and cried afterward, which is never fun to listen to.

The older he gets, the more Mom is on his case.

God, I hate her.

I round the corner of the park, some of the leaves already changing colors, the reds and yellows beautiful. So much like West Virginia my heart aches, thinking of it.

Mom moved us for her job.

I wish she’d have left us, instead.

And just as that thought leaves my brain, I nearly collide with someone, my hands darting to their shoulders as we both stagger a little, trying to avoid a full-on disaster.

I hear something hit the paved path, and when I look down, there’s books strewn across the walkway and a DVD case, too.

“I’m so sorry,” a girl’s voice whispers, and I snap my head up, my hands still on her shoulders.

Remi Ocean.

My pulse accelerates all over again, and it has nothing to do with my run.

For a second, her golden eyes are locked on mine, her dark blonde hair pulled back in braids.

Her hands are out in front of her, like she’s still trying to hold me back even though she’s not touching me.

Speaking of… I release her, then hastily retreat a step.

She’s in leggings and a T-shirt, her pale arms visible beneath as she squats down, stacking up her books.

I take a breath, trying to calm my heart.

Remi is a cheerleader so I’ve seen her a lot, but she never really seemed to want to talk much to me. Or anyone, save for her best friend, Sloane. She’s always got her nose in a book during free time in class, but anytime Ihavespoken to her, she’s been so nice.

She just doesn’t like to talk a lot, I guess.

Wish my mother abided by that shit.

I realize she’s stacking up her books that I made her drop by herself, and I quickly sink down to the ground, reaching for her DVD.

She stills, glancing up at me, and we’re close enough to touch.

I can see the flecks of chestnut in the gold of her eyes, and each one of her long, dark lashes.

I remember to breathe, and I catch her scent.

Like… coconut.

I lick my lips, swallowing the tightness in my throat down as I snatch up her DVD and offer it to her, glancing down at the cover. It has a yellow circular sticker with $5 printed inside it. She got it used, it looks like.

“You and your horror,” I say with a smile, my eyes back on hers.

She’s still squatting down beside me and she takes the movie, her fingers brushing mine for a second.

---