Page 105 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
He studies me and smiles as he gets my meaning. I want him to feel like he can be himself around me. Always.
“Don’t go through shit like that alone next time.”
He nods. “I won’t. But for the record, I didn’t. Clara helped a lot.”
My heart picks up that this is what they’ve been hiding. She was supporting him in a way I didn’t even know he needed. That, more than anything, reminds me why I fell for her in the first place.
“We don’t need to hug or any—”
I draw him into a hug then. It’s quick, him smacking me hard against the back, making me cough. But when we pull apart, his eyes are glassy.
“Anyway,” he sniffs. “You’re a dumbass.”
I snort. He’s not wrong.
Each piece of potpourri clinks against the glass bowl that we thankfully didn’t break as I clean up.
“Talk to Clara,” Mitchell urges.
When he stands, he helps me up, too, just as my dad emerges ready to go to the brunch. As we follow him out the door, I turn to Mitchell. “For what it’s worth, I think Kenji likes you, too.”
He flushes and I climb into the car with a grin.
By the time we arrive at Woodhurst High, the Legacy Brunch is packed. Is the entire town here? The overhead music booms in a way that rattles my very cells, making me already wish I could leave. A giant, glittery banner is strung over the stage that reads,Welcome, Legacies!, and there are dozens of round tables covered in navy and white tablecloths, the school colors. The enticing scent of buttery pancakes and bacon hangs in the air.
Principal West rushes me and reminds me about giving a quick speech once everyone is done eating, to thank them for coming and for all their generous donations. I’m starting to count the hours until I’ve completed my guest of honor duties and can be done with all this.
Though that will mean it’s time to go back to school, which is a less-than-comforting thought.
There’s a long buffet line, and everyone’s conversations and laughter around me add to the noise. Add to my growing agitation. I pile my plate high with food and cross through the room to a table far from the town crowd so I can eat in peace. But then my dad soon joins me.
“They taking care of you over there at that fancy school? Your fall last month seems to have slowed you down a bit.”
My pulse picks up. “I just didn’t feel like pushing.”
“Since when is a five-miler pushing?”
I swipe the thin paper napkin across my lips. “No—it wasn’t. Just—forget it.”
But I’ve already said too much because he’s eyeing me closer than before. He leans forward, dropping his voice low. “You’d tell me if something serious was going on with you, right?”
All I can do is nod.
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’m just a little hungover and didn’t want to tell you, okay?”
When I look at him, his mouth has flattened in disappointment, but at least the half-truth works. He reaches for his water glass and plunks it in front of me. “Hydrate.”
I drink it down while he proceeds to lecture me.
“A little indulgence is to be expected at your age, but it’s not like you to drink. Was this with Clara?”
The empty glass strikes the table hard as my anger spikes. “Jesus, Dad. No. She had nothing to do with it.”
“I know she stayed over.”
My neck gets hot. I notice her over his shoulder then, interviewing Amaya, who’s swiping tears off her cheeks.
