A Boy Like You by Ginger Scott

Author:Ginger Scott [Scott, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Miss Write, LLC

Ten

It took me an hour to clean up the mess left behind from my breakdown. I scooped everything into a bucket and took it outside to the trash by the curb. I woke early this morning and heard the garbage truck come and take it all away, and I cried—that picture is really gone now.

I let myself feel the weight of that for exactly fifteen minutes. No more. And when time was up, I got out of bed, put on my running pants, a T-shirt and shoes, and grabbed my newly repaired iPod, leaving the house for three hours. I ran for miles. They were slow, and they hurt. But I pushed. I ran up the bleachers. I sprinted around the track. I hopped the fence and ran the bases on the softball field. I pushed myself until I finally collapsed on the outfield grass.

For the next thirty minutes, I looked at the sky, and I thought about my mom. I thought about every single good memory—the chocolate Kisses she slipped into my lunch bag, the way she always made sure to sit up front for school performances, how she kept score for my T-ball games.

The times she kissed my father after a game, when we’d all go out for ice cream.

So much love. Suddenly gone. I would never understand.

I got home in time for Taryn to pick me up for the mall, and for two hours, I smiled and clapped and turned my thumbs up or down for nearly thirty dresses until she found the perfect one. The dress she ended up buying is blue, and it sways right above her knees. It wasn’t my favorite. But I could tell it was hers, and that was all that mattered, so I told her to get it.

On our way out, we passed a white dress with a string tie weaving down the back. The sleeves were long and draped, and the dress looked like something a girl would wear to a country-dance. It wasn’t frilly or body hugging like the dresses Taryn tried on. It was simple.

It was pretty.

She begged me to try it on, but I refused. I haven’t worn a dress in years. I’m not even sure I quite know how. And trying one on today would be like admitting that I have fantasies—the kind where Wes shows up at my front door next Friday and takes me to some stupid school dance.

I have these fantasies, and I do not need to feed them. I need them to go away.

Taryn brought me home in time for me to grab my things and catch a ride with her to Jungle Gym. My father’s door was still closed when I went inside to change, and his car was still in the garage where I’d parked. I was relieved, but also a little scared, so before I left, I cracked open his door to make sure I saw his body rise and fall with at least one breath. When I did, I left for work.

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