Without Paige

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jess found me in the locker room after practice on Tuesday. I was pulling my shoes back onto my feet when she stalked over and sat on the bench next to me, tucking her hands between her knees. I didn't look over at her until she spoke.

"I saw your dad at the restaurant last night," she said. "He asked if we had any plans soon."

I swallowed, my hands turning to cement as I shoved my cleats into my bag. "What'd you say?"

"I said no," she frowned.

I shrugged, "Fair enough."

Jess scoffed, getting to her feet and putting her hands on her hips. I looked up at her, recoiling at the hardness of her eyes. "Fair enough? Wren, what's going on?"

Someone laughed from the showers, loud enough that I jumped from the sudden sound. I couldn't tell whose voice it'd been, but it didn't matter. "Nothing's going on."

"I don't even recognise you right now," she said, shaking her head. "I used to be able to tell exactly what you were thinking just by looking at you. Did something happen with your sister? Is that what this is about?"

I stood, shutting my locker with enough force that the metal clanged. I hadn't meant for it to seem angry, but it did. "Why does it have to be about Paige?"

Jess' frown deepened, though she seemed more upset than anything else. Suddenly the irritation I'd sensed from her just moments before was gone, replaced by a compassion I didn't want. Her eyes went soft and I turned away. Her pity felt like a jab in the gut. "You never talk about her. Or at least, you didn't to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, shrugging my bag onto my shoulders. I wanted nothing more than to leave, run back to my car and drive home. Even the idea of sitting in the silence of my house seemed more appealing than standing there in front of her right then. "Paige ran away, why does that have to be some big deal?"

"How is it not?"

I pushed past her, my shoulder ricocheting off of hers. I didn't look back at her as I spoke, facing the lockers instead. "And you wonder why I didn't talk to you about her. You have your opinions, I'm not going to apologize for mine."

I left Jess standing there, not allowing myself to glance back and see the expression on her face. It would tell me that I'd been too harsh, that my words had stung, and I didn't want the confirmation. As I stalked out of the locker room and down the halls, the guilt had already begun to set in. It was a feeling I'd gotten to know well, and it made my stomach churn.

I knew Jess hadn't meant anything, not really, but somehow she'd just set me off. I used to be able to listen to her snide comments and ill-thought out remarks easily, without so much as a spark of anger no matter what she said, but apparently that had changed. We used to get each other; we were able to talk for hours and laugh about every little thing, but I couldn't picture us like that anymore. Though it'd been months since I'd spoken to her, I think I'd always held onto the idea that one day everything would just fall back into place, once the tide of Paige's disappearance had finally washed away. Only now did I realize that some things might be too broken to just be put back together. If I cared enough about it, I might've tried to put the pieces back in place, glue them together, but I was sure the cracks would always remain.

I threw my bag in the backseat of my car, staring down at the worn fabric of the seats for a minute longer than was normal. I remembered the days Jess, Quinn and I had raced into my car the moment the lunch bell had rung, and I'd driven us out to the parking lot of the superstore where we'd spent way too much money on snacks and blasted the radio loud enough the entire car shook. It felt like years ago, like a memory that'd become so faded it was more like a dream.

A part of me blamed Paige, because even if it wasn't all her fault, if she hadn't left, then none of this would have happened. Mom wouldn't have changed so much that she'd pushed dad away, he wouldn't be looking at apartments, and Jess and I would still be smiling when we spoke. I wouldn't be staring at the backseat of my car lost in nostalgia.

But another part of me knew it didn't all fall on her. It'd been my decision to cut Jess and the team off after my sister had disappeared. Even if I had my reasons, they didn't know that, because I'd never tried to tell them.

I thought about turning and going back into the school to apologize to Jess, maybe even give her whatever mediocre explanation I could offer right then, but in the end I didn't. Telling her anything right now would only urge her to ask me questions. She'd ask where this was coming from, why I was feeling this way, if I was okay... I wasn't ready to give her those answers. She wouldn't accept the I'm fine that Katy and Miles had taken in stride.

Instead, I climbed into the front seat of my car and drove away from the school. The more I thought about Jess, the bigger the weight on my shoulders, but I didn't feel sad. There was a sense of remorse, as though I was clinging onto something I couldn't get back, but it was more than that. I'd been clinging on to hope, drowning in possibility, and suddenly I was finally able to breathe again. It came rushing into me, hitting me all at once with the realization that even if I didn't have Jess or Quinn and the friendship that we'd once had, there were other people for me to rely on now. Miles had told me that much himself.

I expected the house to be silent, and for my mom to be upstairs asleep in her room, but I found myself surprised as I walked through the front door. Quiet music played from the T.V. speakers, filling the room with a jazz song I didn't recognise. My mother stood in the kitchen just in front of the stove, stirring something that filled the room with a scent that made my mouth water, though I had no idea what it was.

I blinked at her, a smile twitching at my lips. I missed the days I'd come home to her cooking dinner. It brought back memories that made my heart swell. "Mom?"

"Oh, you're home." She said, facing me. I noted the dark circles under her eyes, and how the gauntness of her cheeks seemed to have worsened just a little. Despite all that, she was standing taller, and she'd finally ditched the same three pairs of sweatpants she'd seemed to have been wearing over and over again for weeks. Instead, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing like what she used to wear, with her closet full of pencil skirts and buttoned blouses, but it felt like a move in the right direction.

"What are you making?" I asked, dropping my bags on the ground and sauntering over to her side.

"Soup." She shrugged, pointing her elbow towards the cooking book that sat open on the counter to her left. It took me a minute to realize it was grandma's book, the one that'd spent years collecting dust in our cupboards because mom had always said everything in it took too much effort to make. "I had a craving."

"Smells good," I said.

"I'll let you know when it's ready," she said, and I smiled.