Page 15 of Save You
I’m thinking of you
I stare at the words and take a deep breath.Then I click send.After that, I put my phone down.My eye falls on the alarm clock on my bedside table.It’s after midnight now, and I’m still wide-awake.Even if I switch the light off now, I won’t be able to sleep, I know that.
I pull my backpack onto my bed and get out my notes from this morning.I’m about to lean back on my pillow again and start reading when my phone buzzes.I hold my breath as I click on the message.
I miss you
I get goose bumps all over my whole body.I don’t know what I was expecting.But not an answer like that.As I’m staring at those three words, a second text comes in.
I want to see you
The words blur before my eyes, and even though I’m under my duvet, wearing James’s hoodie, I feel cold.So many different emotions are fighting inside me: yearning for James, unspeakable anger at him, and a deep sorrow, as if I’d lost someone too.
I’d love to write that I feel the same.That I miss him too and there’s nothing I’d rather do than drive over and be there for him.
But I can’t.Deep within me, I sense that I’m not ready forthat.Not after what happened.Not after what he did to me.It just hurts too much.
It costs me every ounce of strength I can summon to type my reply.
I can’t.
6
Ruby
Christmas is my favorite time of year.
I love all the decorations that turn the whole world into a wonderland.I love the special food, the music, the films—and of course I love all the sweet treats.I love choosing or making presents for my family and then wrapping them up beautifully.Normally, the run-up to Christmas feels magical—as if Father Christmas, or Jack Frost, or whoever, has sprinkled a dusting of glitter over everything.
This year, everything is different.
Although, no.This year, everything is exactly the same as ever.It’s justmewho’s different.
The preparations are just no fun because my mind is with James the whole time.I try to take my mind off him, not to think of him, but it doesn’t work.Everything that happened over the course of this term keeps replaying in my mind like a depressing film, again and again, until I have to go for a walk to clear my head.
There are days when I wish I could just stay in bed, or that Icould go back in time.I’d like to go back and live in a world where nobody at school knows my name, least of all James.Sometimes I lie in bed at night and look at the photo of him laughing, or the Halloween party invitations that feature the two of us.I remember the feeling of his fingers on my hand.Of his kiss.I remember his quiet voice, whispering my name.
I’m more than ready for the holidays.At least this way, I’ll have a chance to put a bit of distance between me and Maxton Hall.Because even if James won’t be back at school until next term, right now I’m filled with panic every time I turn a corner or walk into a classroom, in case he’s there.Which I wouldn’t be able to deal with.Not yet.
Luckily, my family is providing plenty of distractions.Mum and Dad spend a lot of time squabbling in the kitchen and regularly need me to rule on whether Mum’s latest batch of mince pies tastes better with or without Dad’s latest new spice blend that he’s added to the filling.In previous years, I’ve mostly sided with Mum, but to my surprise, I realize that Dad’s creations are growing on me.
Ember finds plenty to fill up the rest of my time with.We do what feels like about two thousand photo shoots for her blog, even though I’m sure half the photos turn out rubbish because my fingers are shaking with cold.And this year, she’s decided what we ought to give our family for Christmas, when normally, that’s one of my favorite things to do.Her ideas are great—we’ve made a calendar filled with family photos for our grandparents and put together a personalized spa gift set for Mum.For Dad, Ember spotted an ad from someone selling a pretty 1960s spice rack, and I haggled them down to ten pounds for it.
“You’re a pretty tough negotiator,” Ember says as we wipe itdown the best we can in our little garage.She pulls a face as she dusts all the spiderwebs off the back of the thing.“Maybe you should rethink your career goals.”
I’m in the middle of spreading out old newspaper so that we can start revarnishing it, but I force myself to grin.
She looks at me searchingly, a pensive frown forming between her eyebrows.
“I don’t suppose you want to finally talk to me, do you?”
“About what?”I ask flatly.
She snorts.“About why you’re acting like a robot?About whatever it is that’s wrong with you?”
Her words make me flinch.This is the very first time that Ember’s spoken about the way I’ve been, rather than acting like it’s normal for me to only leave my bedroom when I absolutely have to and barely utter a word to anyone.She hasn’t pressured me and hasn’t asked questions, and I’m so grateful to her for that.
But apparently, the grace period is over.
