The Opposite of Falling Apart

CHAPTER 6 - BRENNAN

"Did you email Aunt Kim about shadowing?" her mom asked. Rose Davis pushed her glasses up on her nose. Bad vision was the thing Brennan had inherited from her mom. Brennan remembered being little and asking her parents what parts of her looked like them—did she have Dad's nose? Mom's smile? The older she'd gotten, the less she looked and acted like them. Sometimes she looked at her family pictures and imagined being adopted as a baby—she didn't match in the pictures. Ayden, Rose, and Dan all matched. Then there was Brennan.

She nodded in answer to her mom's question but didn't offer anything more. She felt a little guilty. Maybe she didn't match because she didn't put enough effort into it—into being part of dinner conversations and outings to Ayden's scholastic quiz games or track meets.

When Brennan had come down the stairs and into the dining room for dinner, her dad had widened his eyes in pretend shock. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us!"

Brennan hated when he said things like that. She knew he was joking but part of her wondered if he really would like a different daughter—one who showed up to family dinner and talked about her day and didn't have anxiety eating her up at any given moment.

—

After dinner, Brennan was tired. It was like she had a meter—full at the beginning of the day but depleted by every interaction between her and any other person.

She headed back upstairs, turned out the ceiling light in her room, and crawled into bed. She left the lamp on her nightstand on for the moment, not quite ready to plunge the room into total darkness yet.

Brennan sighed, turned on her side, and faced the wall, pulling her blankets up to her chin. In bed, trying to turn her mind off, it was easy to start worrying about college again, because her room at college would smell different and there would be the shadows of different trees dancing on her wall. The familiar sick nausea twisted her stomach. She shut her eyes and tried to fall asleep. She was tired, after all.

It was one of those nights that, no matter how tired she was, Brennan couldn't sleep.

She wondered if college would be like high school. Everyone (her parents, her guidance counselor, the old guy she worked with at the deli) constantly said that it would be nothing like high school; people wouldn't be so fickle, or people would be more accepting. They were more themselves. Something like that. Brennan wasn't quite sure that she believed them.

She hoped it would be different, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. Too many times she had gotten her hopes up only to have things fail to meet her expectations. Then she bottomed out, mentally, for a bit. It was discouraging, to say the least.

Brennan sighed, giving up on sleep, and pulled out her phone, opening the Messenger app and shooting a quick message to Emma. Hey.

She wondered if Emma was still awake. Sure enough, moments later: Hey, what's up.

Brennan propped herself up on one elbow and typed back. Worrying about school. The usual.

It was a few minutes before Emma typed back. Don't be. It will be fine.

But I have a random roommate! What if she absolutely hates me but we're forced to live together? What if she's superpopular and she's ashamed of me because I'm a dud.

What even, Brennan? A dud? You're gonna be fine. My sister has been off at college for three years now. She loves it, and she was totally shy. People are different in college. You're gonna find friends who are just as nerdy as you, and they won't think you're a dud even if, God forbid, your roommate does.

Brennan sighed, because Emma was right, she knew. So why did it still feel, deep down, like Brennan's life was about to fall apart? At least her Aunt Kim had messaged her back. She would shadow. That was doing something—that was taking steps toward not being a total and utter failure.

Who knows, Emma typed. You might even meet some fellow writers, so you can have those coffee-shop writing meetups you've always wanted to have. You can sit there and write with each other but never actually share what you're writing about. Just revel in the camaraderie. You never know. There're all kinds at college.

Brennan smiled a little at the thought. Maybe you're right.

I am right.

Brennan sucked in a breath and bit her lip, heat stinging the backs of her eyes and threatening tears, before typing back. It's just so easy to spend time worrying about it. I have to be in this strange room that will smell strange, with a strange roommate, and strange suitemates next door.

Strange, Emma retorted.

Brennan continued, unable to stop until she got it all out, like her life depended on somehow explaining the tumult inside of her. And I have to eat cafeteria food. What if I get food poisoning and I'm sick in front of my roommate? And where do you sit in the cafeteria? Do you meet up with people or go yourself? I'll probably end up at a table by myself, watching Netflix on my phone or something. That, or I'll have a stash of ramen noodles hidden under my bed so I'll never have to even go to the cafeteria. I'll just creep out of my room, hiding inside a blanket, and sneak down to the lounge to heat them up before skulking back to the depths of my cave.

She could picture Emma rolling her eyes. Find the cafeteria or I'll drive to Edwardsville and drag you to it.

Maybe that's not a bad thing. Then I'd have you. You should have come to SIUE instead of going off to Missouri.

I wish I could have, but my scholarship is in Missouri, and I have to go where it's best for me. You know that.

I do. Maybe I should come to Missouri.

For the same reason that I can't go to SIUE, you coming to Missouri would be a bad idea. One word: SCHOLARSHIP.

I don't have a full ride like you, though. Brennan.

I know, I know.

:)

You have to still message me, you know.

I know, replied Emma. And I will. I need my daily dose of Vitamin B.

And I need my daily dose of Vitamin E, so promise that you won't forget.

Promise.

All right then. I guess I'd better be going off to sleep. Brennan yawned then, as if on cue. The sick feeling had subsided somewhat. Good night, Emma. And thanks for calming my nerves, as usual.

*raises wand, Potter style* Farewell, Brennan. Sleep well.

Brennan put her phone on her nightstand. Her eyes caught the coupon resting there. Variety shredded cheeses, one dollar off. She reached over and flipped it.

Text me and tell me the total. Jonas.

And then, his number.

Should she text him? Or should she just let him fade into the background of her story, forgotten and unimportant? He was just the guy who had rear-ended her car.

Brennan opened Messages. She carefully typed in the ten digits of Jonas's phone number, checking and double checking a few times. The dent had popped out of her car yesterday anyway. She should let him know that, right?

After typing a quick message, she turned off the lamp and rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling through the dark.

Maybe college won't be so bad after all, she told herself, turning her thoughts back to the future. Her voice was cheerful in her head, pep-talk- like. Maybe you'll love your roommate. Maybe she'll love you. Maybe she writes. Maybe you'll be best friends.

Maybe.

She closed her eyes. Or maybe, anxiety whispered, it will all be awful, and you should prepare yourself.

She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that little stars sparked across the backs of her eyelids.

PS, anxiety added. You definitely should not have texted Jonas. She pictured her inner demon shrugging. Too late.