Page 33 of Endless Anger
“Why are you being so weird?” I cringe when I realize the question has been verbalized.
“What am I doing?”
“You’re just…” I trail off, waving my hand in his direction. “I don’t know. Something is up, so tell me what it is so we can move on.”
“There’s nothing?—”
My hands fly to my face, abruptly cutting him off. “Did you not get in?”
“What?”
“To Avernia. Did you get a rejection letter?” Panic bubbles in my throat, but I force an exhale, ignoring it. “Okay, well, that’s not the end of the world. I’m sure your parents can pull some strings, especially since your sister is an alumna, and?—”
“Lucy.”
“—maybe she can even write a letter of recommendation, like she did for me? Or Uncle Grayson probably has some weight to throw around up there, since he teaches at?—”
“Lucy.”
It takes a moment to register that he’s calling me by my actual name and not any derivative he’s concocted over the years. Not pup or Luce or Lulu. Not even L or Lucille, my least favorite.
Just Lucy.
My heart seizes a bit in my chest.
More so when he speaks again.
“I didn’t apply.”
Several seconds pass before my brain comprehends his words. I blink, glancing down at the envelope he’s still holding, then back up. Annoyance pulses in my veins over not being able to see his face that well.
“What do you mean, you didn’t apply?” I ask. “We did it together at my house. I watched you hit Submit and pay the application fee.”
He sighs. I feel it in my chest.
“I didn’t apply,” he says again, like I didn’t hear him the first time. “I clicked out of the page before it could finish processing. I just…I couldn’t. No part of me wants to go there.”
My mouth falls open. “Since when? This has been our plan for the last two years.”
“Your plan,” he corrects, and I hate that it feels like a slap to the face. “I don’t want to go.”
Blood rushes between my ears, making my skin hot to the touch despite the cold. My throat swells painfully as tears brim my eyes, and I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.
“But you said…” Inhaling shakily, I wait for the tears to subside and glare at his shoes. “If this is about what happened last week?—”
“It isn’t.”
I swallow, nodding. “Sure, sure. But you know, I’ve barely seen you other than today with everyone else, and when I do see you, it’s like we don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore. And now you’re saying you don’t want to go to school with me, so I’m just a little concerned, you know?”
Fire burns my esophagus, the burden of honesty scorching my vocal cords. I’ve never in my life been afraid of telling him how I feel though, so I don’t know any other way to be.
“Luce.” Now when he uses my nickname, it feels like a precursor to disappointment.
I take another step back, my hands trembling. “What are you doing instead?”
He hesitates. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say softly. “It matters to me.”
