Read Online The Girl I Was Before by Ginger Scott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ginger Scott
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show in my voice—I use it. I’m not fully pretending, because if I let myself, I could cry right now. But I use this awful feeling to my advantage, because I deserve to get something from feeling this way.
“Uh…sure, I…I guess. Are you done early? Can your sister come, too?” he asks.
No, she can’t. That’s the point—I need to get out of here, to get away, to come home and be on my own. This has to be about me, for me— just this one time!
“She has tests on Monday. But I’ll be done tomorrow. My semester was just really hard, and with everything that’s happened, with Cass and the assault…it’s taken a toll,” I say, my voice losing ground the longer I talk. I’m not lying—not completely, anyhow. My classes are easy, but this semester has been painful. And I know…Cass bore the brunt. She was assaulted, and it was awful. What happened— awful! And I’m angry about it. I want to hurt people for her. I’m also tired, and now I feel like I don’t belong…anywhere.
My dad was there for the argument between Cass and me at Thanksgiving; he’s not naïve to what’s going on. He just doesn’t want to be in the middle of it, and that’s precisely what I’m counting on.
“All right, Paige. I understand, sweetheart. Let me see what I can do. I’ll text you when my secretary finds out about switching your flight, okay?” That’s what I needed. I’m breathing. I’m hoping, and I’m thankful.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I say, ending our call.
I look at my belongings all piled up on my desk. My bag is heavy, still stuffed with the things I care about. I’m not leaving anything alone in this room. A door creaks down the hallway, and I hear feet scuffling along the wood floors. There’s a short pause near my door, and I watch as Ashley scurries by quickly, a teacup in her hand, the bag’s string dangling over the edge. She practically races to the stairs to get into the kitchen— away from me.
“Weakling,” I whisper to myself. Maybe I’m calling myself that. I pick up my bag and close my door, walking through the deserted hallway, down the stairs and into the common room. Two girls are studying on the sofa, and one looks up at me, but quickly averts her gaze.
That’s right; I’m invisible. Mustn’t let the boss see you seeing me. This whole thing is stupid. I let the door slam to a close behind me when I leave.
My original intent was to go to the library again, but honestly, if I study the books in my bag for one more minute, I think I may tilt the scales to crazy. I have things memorized, and I already know my tests are going to be multiple-choice. At this point, I’m shooting for the fastest time in the testing room.
I walk past the library and through the rows of brick buildings, letting my finger run along the slick windows of the architecture college. It’s my favorite building; it’s everyone’s favorite. Made from what was once the main hall on campus, the structure has gone through several renovations over the years until now it is a cool collaboration of the old styles and the new. I love the lines and the colors, but more than that—I love the design wing on the inside.
I’ve only looked through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but next year, I get to sit in those classrooms—to make those rooms look as I think they should. McConnell puts students in design apprenticeships as sophomores, and it is the one perk I have left in coming here.
My mind goes numb for the rest of my walk, and somehow I find myself at the market just off campus. Even this parking lot is empty now that half of the town’s population has gone elsewhere for the holidays. That’s what stops me. Amidst the emptiness, Houston is jogging, hopping over the white lines where cars are supposed to sit, his green apron dangling around his neck, the knot loose behind his back. It’s nine in the morning, and he’s practically skipping. I swear he’s even whistling. The sight of it makes me laugh. I
“Uh…sure, I…I guess. Are you done early? Can your sister come, too?” he asks.
No, she can’t. That’s the point—I need to get out of here, to get away, to come home and be on my own. This has to be about me, for me— just this one time!
“She has tests on Monday. But I’ll be done tomorrow. My semester was just really hard, and with everything that’s happened, with Cass and the assault…it’s taken a toll,” I say, my voice losing ground the longer I talk. I’m not lying—not completely, anyhow. My classes are easy, but this semester has been painful. And I know…Cass bore the brunt. She was assaulted, and it was awful. What happened— awful! And I’m angry about it. I want to hurt people for her. I’m also tired, and now I feel like I don’t belong…anywhere.
My dad was there for the argument between Cass and me at Thanksgiving; he’s not naïve to what’s going on. He just doesn’t want to be in the middle of it, and that’s precisely what I’m counting on.
“All right, Paige. I understand, sweetheart. Let me see what I can do. I’ll text you when my secretary finds out about switching your flight, okay?” That’s what I needed. I’m breathing. I’m hoping, and I’m thankful.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I say, ending our call.
I look at my belongings all piled up on my desk. My bag is heavy, still stuffed with the things I care about. I’m not leaving anything alone in this room. A door creaks down the hallway, and I hear feet scuffling along the wood floors. There’s a short pause near my door, and I watch as Ashley scurries by quickly, a teacup in her hand, the bag’s string dangling over the edge. She practically races to the stairs to get into the kitchen— away from me.
“Weakling,” I whisper to myself. Maybe I’m calling myself that. I pick up my bag and close my door, walking through the deserted hallway, down the stairs and into the common room. Two girls are studying on the sofa, and one looks up at me, but quickly averts her gaze.
That’s right; I’m invisible. Mustn’t let the boss see you seeing me. This whole thing is stupid. I let the door slam to a close behind me when I leave.
My original intent was to go to the library again, but honestly, if I study the books in my bag for one more minute, I think I may tilt the scales to crazy. I have things memorized, and I already know my tests are going to be multiple-choice. At this point, I’m shooting for the fastest time in the testing room.
I walk past the library and through the rows of brick buildings, letting my finger run along the slick windows of the architecture college. It’s my favorite building; it’s everyone’s favorite. Made from what was once the main hall on campus, the structure has gone through several renovations over the years until now it is a cool collaboration of the old styles and the new. I love the lines and the colors, but more than that—I love the design wing on the inside.
I’ve only looked through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but next year, I get to sit in those classrooms—to make those rooms look as I think they should. McConnell puts students in design apprenticeships as sophomores, and it is the one perk I have left in coming here.
My mind goes numb for the rest of my walk, and somehow I find myself at the market just off campus. Even this parking lot is empty now that half of the town’s population has gone elsewhere for the holidays. That’s what stops me. Amidst the emptiness, Houston is jogging, hopping over the white lines where cars are supposed to sit, his green apron dangling around his neck, the knot loose behind his back. It’s nine in the morning, and he’s practically skipping. I swear he’s even whistling. The sight of it makes me laugh. I
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