What I Want You to See by Catherine Linka

Author:Catherine Linka [Linka, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2020-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

Things will look better in the morning. Mom used to play that on repeat. Anything bad happened with friends or at school and Mom would drag out her promise that once the sunlight touched my problems, I’d barely be able to see them anymore.

Yeah, well, sun’s up, Mom, and things aren’t looking any better.

I drag myself out of bed and shove open my closet. I thrust my hand into the mess inside and pull out the first thing I touch. The Henley’s faded and there’s a rip by the wrist, but so what.

The jeans I wore last night are by the bed. I pull them on and reach into the pile of shoes in the corner for my Converse. One of Iona’s boots tumbles onto my foot.

“Funny, karma, real funny.” I shake my head and nudge the bootie away. “So I guess what you’re saying is this thing with Adam, it’s payback.”

If I hadn’t been so pissed at Krell, I wouldn’t have gotten so close to liar/cheater/swine Adam.

If I’d returned Iona’s things instead of letting my intense loathing of her stop me, I wouldn’t be facing years of paying her back.

Maybe things aren’t better in the morning, but they’re a lot clearer.

I snatch Iona’s boots off the floor and rummage around for a box to put them in. Then I tear a page out of my sketchbook and start to compose my apology.

Dear Bitch on Wheels.

Tempting, but no. Cross it out.

Dear Iona.

So sorry for the misunderstanding.

Yeah. Like she’d believe that. Cross it out.

So sorry I didn’t return these boots sooner.

True statement. I am sorry, because they’ve brought me nothing but grief.

If you send me the bill from the shoe-repair place I will pay you back.

And I will. Eventually. That place is superexpensive.

I set down the sketchbook. Tara, her personal assistant, wants me to apologize for not returning her dress, but I’m at a total loss. Is there a single normal human being in existence who’d give it back after what Iona did? Someone would have to be a total saint to turn the other cheek on her. And I am no saint.

I pick up the sketchbook.

I was a mess when Mom died.

It was wrong for me not to return your dress when I found it.

I can acknowledge I screwed up, but I’m not evolved enough to apologize for it, and if that means karma’s not satisfied, then I guess that’s too freaking bad.

I hope you can forgive me.

But I’m not holding my breath.

I find a nicer piece of paper, write the apology in my most penitent handwriting, and lay it on the tissue-paper-wrapped boots, then seal the box. In between classes, I’ll drop this at Pack ’n Ship, and be done with it.

Even though doing this means I won’t get Mom’s guitar back anytime soon, maybe it will slow the flood of bad luck dumped on me this week.

Once again, I’m probably late for Krell’s class. I twist up my hair, grab my stuff, and bolt out the door.

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