Page 74 of Going the Distance
Chapter 18
In an attempt to really start getting over Noah, I decided to spend the whole day focusing on myself. After watching some YouTube videos, eating a breakfast big enough to cure my hangover, and finishing an essay for my history class, I was feeling pretty collected and motivated. I decided to try tackling my college application essay again. I’d made some progress on it over the last week. Maybe today would be the day I actually finished it.
I typed out a few new paragraphs before I read over the whole thing. It was almost there! All I needed was a good conclusion, but I knew it’d help if I read back over everything I’d written first.
The more words I read, the more I wondered why I’d wasted my time writing this crap in the first place. The elation I’d felt at thinking I’d almost finished vanished. I had to write about something I’d felt had inspired me—and I wasn’t feeling very inspired rereading my essay.
I’d been thinking about this damn essay so much, and rewriting pieces of it for weeks now. All that work and stress, and for what? This piece of crap on the screen now?
The words on the screen started to blur, mushing together until I couldn’t see them. I clicked the mouse furiously, highlighting random words, wondering what the hell was going on—until I sniffled and realized I was on the verge of crying. Again.
God, I was such a loser.
I couldn’t even keep it together over a single, stupid essay.
I’d never get into college. I couldn’t even write a damn essay! How the hell would I manage to make it through four years of college?
I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life yet. I had no idea what I wanted to major in.
I’d talked to my dad and the career counselor they’d brought into school, and told the teachers who’d asked me that I wanted to major in English, because then I’d have some options, and I got my best grades in English lit, so why not?
And here I was, sobbing—and wailing a bit, too—over my computer, becauseI couldn’t even string a decent sentence together.
My bedroom door opened, and since the figure, blurred beyond recognition by the tears in my eyes that just wouldn’t go away, was too short to be my dad, I figured it had to be my brother.
“Get out!” I wailed, my words hitching on a sob. “Go away! Leave me alone!”
Brad hovered in the doorway, and then I got angry. I didn’t know why—I was just suddenly overwhelmingly furious that I couldn’t even wallow in self-pity in peace.
“Elle? What’s the matter?”
He was being really sweet (for a change). He was genuinely worried about me.
And it only made me feel even angrier.
“Getout! Leave mealone!”
Eventually, Brad shut the door and I stopped, collapsing over my desk and crying into my arms. I probably looked about as pathetic as I felt, but now I’d started crying, I couldn’t stop. I hated this kind of crying.
What if I never finished the essay, and never made it to college? I’d disappoint my dad, and myself, and Lee would go to college without me and forget all about me, and—
The thoughts kept swirling, a vicious whirlpool dragging me further and further down. I slammed my laptop shut, unable to take the glare of the screen, the essay on it mocking me.
The door opened again.
I was ready to tell my little brother, or Dad, to get out and just let me be, but there was someone else standing behind my brother: Levi. The words died on my tongue.
“I thought maybe you could use a friend,” Brad saidquietly.
I sniffled again and managed a teeny tiny smile. Brad smiled back awkwardly—he wasn’t used to being this nice to me, either—and then backed out of the room. Levi clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at Brad before coming into my room.
He sat on the end of my bed, facing me, and I moved to sit next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.
Levi didn’t seem to mind.
Then he put his arm around me.
“I was gonna ask if you’re okay, but I think that’s a pretty dumb question. You look like shit.”
