The Castle of Gold [Bk 2]

ch.51 Sur(prize)

I didn’t hear a word from Becky ever since she left. After what she tried to pull, I shouldn’t care if she’s dead or alive, but I do care. Maybe that’s my weakness: I care too much and wallow in guilt…

The summer wound down quickly and the school year had started. I called Connecticut to let them know I wasn't coming, but they made it even easier for me. Apparently, Liam had "bought" the scholarship and written my application so that we could go together, that's how the school even knew about me. They still offered admission, but I turned it down and stuck with NJ State. 

I signed up for History and creative writing of course, the other usual subjects, but I avoided math this semester; I’ve dealt with one too many “real number” variables in my life to add “imaginary” numbers to the mix.

I got Harry a permanent visitor’s pass so that he could come into the campus and visit me in between classes.

The moment Harry had strolled into the registrar to get the pass, the security guard jolted up and asked for his license and registration. Harry gave everything they asked for, but they were still suspicious. Apparently, that black leather jacket of his, those messy wind-swept curls, and hard, sturdy hands were quite intimidating. They almost didn’t believe that Harry was coming to see me and were terrified when he held my hand.

Harry ignored their judgmental suspicions, but it was harder for me. I just wished they could listen to the words he could say and write instead of whether there was dried blood on his knuckles or the buckles on his boots rattled when he approached you…

Danny was still pissed off at Harry and wouldn’t let me stay at his place overnight. Harry and I decided not to press our luck and stuck to seeing each other during the day. It almost seemed like we had returned to my pre-graduation status: taken by Harry’s words, but living under Danny’s roof.

But Harry started to seem really anxious when we were around Danny. I didn’t know if it was just out of not wanting Danny to see him as threatening to me, or if it was because of I had done something wrong…

***

It was my birthday today. 19. I don’t know why but I think 19 is definitely one of the ugliest numbers. I’m not sure what constitutes as an “ugly” or “pretty” number, especially since I hated math, but 19 just looks off. It’s not special like 18, when you’re legal and can sign your name on documents. And it’s not 20, the next decade, the one that you’ll miss the most. It’s just 19.

Danny and the boys threw me a party last night, but Harry and I wanted to celebrate more privately, so we went off to Monarch Park to celebrate on our own.

We sat in our usual spot under the big oak tree that had one too many good and bad memories. It was getting colder and fewer and fewer butterflies came out to let us gaze at them. But Harry made up for not getting to see the butterflies by staring at me and pretending to touch my “wings.”

Harry had made more of his cupcakes and I had tried my hand at an old recipe Danny said my mom used to make before I was born.

“Harry” I called even though he was sitting right next to me.

Harry turned slowly to face me and looked at me as if he had forgotten I was there. He clenched his jaw and clasped his hands together.

I looked more closely and saw that his hands were fidgety, almost shaking. I placed my hand over his and he looked up at me again.

“Are you ok?” I asked him quietly.

I knew he wouldn’t answer me honestly, even if he needed dire medical help because he didn’t like to worry me. We worried each other more than enough and liked to savor the moments where there was nothing breaking us apart.