Chapter 08 | You're Gonna Marry That Boy
“Sometimes the people we meet in life change us forever.” ― Forces of Nature
“How’s your brother?” I ask Graham on Monday morning as we head up the stairs of the school building together.
“Well, he’ll live,” Graham says with a small sigh. Once we reach the top of the stairs, he pulls open one of the doors and gestures for me to go in first, which I do.
“So, did you get to bring him home this morning or last night or something?” I query, glancing over at him briefly as we walk down the crowded hallway side-by-side.
“Nope,” Graham denies, shaking his head. “The doctor said that he had to stay all night for some kind of stupid overnight observation or something like that,” He explains. “As soon as school gets out though, I’m gonna go over there and hopefully he’ll tell me that nothing too serious is wrong and I’ll be able to bring him home,” Graham adds. “Are you gonna be there?”
“I’m off today,” I reply in the negative, shaking my head. “If it’s any consolation, Dr. Crane is great at his job- I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I tell him, trying to remain optimistic for his benefit.
Yesterday, which was Sunday, Graham’s younger brother, Jackson, had an accident. I don’t really know the precise details of what exactly happened to him, to Jackson, I mean, because I didn’t ask Graham about it. I mean, I was obviously curious but I just didn’t feel like it was my place to ask him and because it wasn’t really any of my business at all. I was at work yesterday though, when Graham brought his little brother in, who was unconscious at the time, which is kind of a tell-tale sign that something bad obviously happened to him. Not to mention the fact that Graham was really frantic and panicked about the entire ordeal, so I knew that asking him would’ve only further his irritation. I tried to calm him down, because he was really starting to freak me out (and probably everyone else who was in the waiting room too) with how the doctors weren’t telling him anything about his brother, but it didn’t work.
St. David’s is the name of it, the hospital that I work at and it’s a really easy job, which is why I’ve been able to hold on to it for about a year now. All I really ever do is sit behind a desk-table thing with a computer and collect people’s health insurance information and stuff like that whenever they come in. Then I page a nurse on this really cool pager thing that they gave me and that nurse comes to bring the person back to examine their injuries or whatever.
Unless it’s a really critical emergency, like a gunshot or stab wound or something seriously life-threatening like that, then they just immediately get to go back into the emergency room to get treatment and the rest of the stuff gets handled later. There are two other girls who’re about my age or maybe a bit older- Dakota and Lydia- who do the same thing that I do and we usually work the same shifts, meaning we’re there at the same time and that makes the job so much more easier than it already is.
Anyway though, seeing as how Graham was toting around an unconscious five year old child, he obviously didn’t have to wait and do all of the insurance stuff first. It was pretty later, around like, 10 p.m. when Graham brought Jackson in and my shift was just about to end. I ended up staying there with him though while he waited to get word on his brother, because I thought that that was a pretty nice and semi-friendly thing for me to do. We just kind of awkwardly sat together in the waiting room where there were about four small families and we talked a little bit but not that much and that was about it. I wasn’t actually intending on staying the entire night there with him, of course, because my mother would have actually killed me in my sleep, I think.
I just wanted to stay with him long enough for him to find out that his brother was going to be alright because knowing that would have given him a peace of mind and probably made him clam down a lot. But at around 11:45, I got a really angry call from my mother, who demanded that I came home that instant, so I obviously had to go. When I got home, I busied myself by doing some homework and watching Netflix. At around 12:30, I called Graham to see if he’d found anything out but he said that he was still waiting, which was just kind of ridiculous to me. The doctors at St. David’s aren’t the speediest people around though, so if I ever get hit by a car or anything, I desperately hope that I’m not taken there because I’ll probably just die waiting on them to fix me.
“Yeah, I hope so,” He mumbles. “Anyway, can I ask you something?” Graham wonders as we approach my locker and I spin the dial on the combination lock.
Before you get any incorrect implications, Graham and I didn’t just plan to meet up this morning and come into school together or anything like that. It’s just that this morning, I miraculously didn’t oversleep and the line at Starbucks was actually really short in comparison to what it usually is, so I ended up getting here to school fifteen minutes earlier than normal. Usually, I’d wait for my friends to get to school before coming in because, well, let’s just face the facts here- school is a terrible enough place as it is and walking into it along just makes it eight hundred thousand times worse. Also, it’s raining pretty hard outside and since it’s almost December, it’s obviously freezing out there and even though I have heat in my car, I just didn’t want to sit out there alone. So, I got out and I guess Graham must’ve saw me because he came over and started talking and here we are.
“Yeah, sure, ask away,” I respond, pulling my locker open and starting to take out the necessities for my morning classes.
“Do you actually even listen to any of the bands that you’re always advertising or what?” He asks, his eyes roaming my black shirt.
“What do you mean?” I wonder, closing my locker after I get my Art textbook and then turning to look at him.
“I mean, like, you wore that Ramones shirt of the first week that I was here and then last week you wore a Led Zeppelin one and today you’re wearing a Pink Floyd one,” He explains.
“Well, apparently my mother went through a pretty serious English / American rock band obsessional phase in her younger days,” I inform him. “But I didn’t even know that Pink Floyd was a band until about an hour ago, honestly. So, to answer your question, no, I don’t listen to any of the bands, I just like the shirts.” I chirpily tell him, glancing down at my lazy outfit.
Basically, every outfit that I ever wear to school is a lazy outfit though because I just really don’t understand the point of getting all dressed up just to come to school. Some girls here actually look like they’ve just walked off the set of a photo-shoot though, what with all the make-up and the dressy clothes and ridiculously high, high heels that they come to school in. Personally, I only ever wear either jeans, sweat pants or yoga pants and I intend to continue doing just that until I graduate next year. Today I’m wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt with the cover art design from a Pink Floyd album- The Dark Side of the Moon- and I only know that because it says it on the shirt. Also because my mother was gushing about it this morning when she saw me wearing it- she’s really weird, my mother is. I’m also wearing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a pair of short black Uggs, because, like I said, it’s cold.
“Wish You Were Here? Comfortably Numb? Breathe? Shine On You Crazy Diamond? You’ve seriously never heard of any of those?” Graham asks as if not listen to Pink Floyd is just crazy.
“The only Breathe I’ve ever heard of is Taylor Swift’s,” I reply, shaking my head with a small giggle.
“That is absolutely ridiculous. You poor, poor deprived child,” Graham says in a dramatic tone, which I playfully roll my eyes at.
“You’re being very dramatic,” I inform him matter-of-factly and then roll my eyes in annoyance when the bell sounds loudly overhead.
“I don’t think that I am,” Graham refutes, shaking his head. “Lucky for you though, I have eleven of their studio albums at home, so I’m bring you one tomorrow.”
“Okay but I’m just warning you now- you might not get it back; I told you that my mom had an obsession with American rock bands,” I reply as kids start heading to class.
“Pink Floyd were an English band, Sawyer,” He tells me with a boyish grin, obviously amused by my lack of knowledge regarding this so-called band of old men from England.
“And with that, I think I’m gonna go ahead and go before I can totally embarrass myself,” I respond with a chuckle. “I’ll see you later, Graham,” I add, turning to go to my art class.
“Yeah, see you later, Sawyer,” I hear him call after me and I send him a friendly wave over my shoulder before continuing on down the long and oh-so disgustingly crowded hallway.
When I reach my Art classroom, I’m not surprised to find that Sienna isn’t even here yet. Her time management skills are even worse than mine, if that’s humanly possible and even though I’m prone to oversleeping, I usually do make it to class on time. Granted, I usually look like crap because I have to rush when I oversleep, but still, I make it here before the bell. She, on the other hand, sometimes sleeps right through first block and doesn’t show up until second. I make my way to my seat near the back of the room and then sigh an inaudible sigh when the tardy bell rings and the teacher, Mr. Eubanks, heads up to the SMART board and powers it on, diving into a lecture about Pablo Picasso.
Like I said, I really do love art so much and I think I’m pretty good at it, so I think that I might what to make a career out of it but I really hate this class sometimes. Unlike most normal art classes, we don’t just draw and paint and other normal things like that. No, that part comes after we’re forced to endure a very long and very boring lecture about whatever artist is relevant to whatever art project we’re about to start. Pablo Picasso was really famous for synthetic cubism, I think, so there’s a pretty good chance that that’s what we’re going to be doing next. Not that I really mind that because I happen to think that I’m not so bad at synthetic cubism, I just don’t want to hear the guy’s life story.
After about forty-five minutes of Mr. Eubanks talking nonstop about Pablo Picasso, there’s a soft knock on the classroom door and considering the fact that all of the seats in the classroom are filled apart from one, I assume that it’s Sienna. Mr. Eubanks stops talking- finally- and then sighs very loudly and dramatically like he always does when he’s annoyed and then puts his marker down before walking over to the door and pulling it open. He really hates being interrupted during his dumb little lectures, Mr. Eubanks does, because he’s just so old and obviously loses his train of thought pretty easily. That being said, I don’t think that he really likes me or Sienna all that much because we’ve both been late at least five times.
“How nice of you to join us, Miss Richards,” Mr. Eubanks murmurs, gesturing for Sienna to come in, which she does with a guilty look on her face.
“Sorry,” She awkwardly mumbles to him before walking down the row of desks that she sits on and plopping down in chair, which is parallel to mine.
“You might as well have just skipped the entire class,” I inform my friends with a light laugh as I put my pencil down, deciding I’m not gonna take all of these useless notes.
“I wanted to,” Sienna assures me, raking her fingers through her wavy brown hair. “My parents came back home this morning though, so I had to get out of there,” She explains.
“They’re already back from London?” I query, turning in my desk towards her and raising my eyebrows in question.
Like I mentioned before, Sienna’s parents are business people, so they do a bunch of international (national too, but mostly international) travel and Sienna’s usually left home alone to look after herself and whatnot. Well, not really alone—her parents are pretty loaded, so they’ve got a butler (he’s really old and pretty nice and his name is Bobby) and a chef who both live on the property, but still. Anyway, their most recent trip was to England but they only left about two weeks ago, I think, so if they’re already back, that’s pretty surprising. Usually they’re gone for at least like, a month, sometimes two. You’d think that Sienna would get lonely in her huge house without her parents there 90% of the time but she claims to love it.
“Yes,” Sienna confirms with an annoyed huff of breath- she and her parents don’t really get along all that well, one could probably say. “And that’s not the only terrible news,” She tells me. “Apparently Tommy dropped out of college a few days ago and that means that he got kicked out of his stupid frat house. So, now he doesn’t have anywhere to live and he’s been staying with a different friend each night. I guess he told my mom about it because she’s insisting that he comes back home. Tonight. We also have to have an awkward family dinner.”
“You are so melodramatic, Sienna,” I quietly chuckle so that Mr. Eubanks doesn’t hear me and then come back here to hack my head off with his chainsaw—he looks like he’d have one.
“I am so not melodramatic—I’m the perfect amount of dramatic,” She corrects me. “I think you’d be pretty devastated if your mother let Flynn live with you—you would, wouldn’t you?”
“Okay, yeah, I would obviously not be okay with that,” I agree with a small nod. “But I mean, why on earth would my mother invite that psychopathic psychopath to live in our home?” I ask.
“Why would my mother invite Tommy to live in our house?” Sienna shoots back in a hushed whisper, clearly trying to make a point, but she fails miserably because the two can’t compare.
“Maybe because he’s your brother and her only son?” I reply, phrasing it as a question.
“Tommy lost the right to be my brother so long ago,” Sienna scoffs, shaking her head at that.
“And somehow, I’m the dramatic one,” I sarcastically mumble under my breathe then.
“I’m glad you get that,” She laughs. “Anyway, changing the subject before I get pissed again—who’re you going to formal with?” Sienna asks.
She’s referring to the Winter Formal, which is a dance that my school has every year, right about the start of December. That being said, it should be happening in just a few days, now that I think about it. I haven’t gone to Winter Formal in two years, since my freshman year. It was absolutely awful and just terrible, which is why I’m fully intent on not going this year. Next year either but maybe since that’ll be my last Winter Formal as a high school student, I’ll be feeling a bit nostalgic and just go.
Anyway, I didn’t go last year as a sophomore because I was just so deathly depressed and a dumb high school dance full of a bunch of drunk, hormonal teenage guys and scantily-clad teenage girls was definitely the farthest thing from mind. It’s kind of like a mock Prom, the Winter Formal is, I guess. It’s maybe not quite as glitzy and glamorous as the actual Prom though. Apparently, the Prom held in a really fancy and expensive ballroom dance hall that’s adjoined to a hotel downtown, whereas the Winter Formal is usually held in the school gym. That’s another reason I’m not going- the gym smells like sweaty gym socks and the tears of freshmen, who are forced to take P.E.
“There’s no way I’m going to that thing,” I inform my friend with a laugh.
“Why would you not go to the Winter Formal? It’s like, the best dance of the year,” Sienna informs me.
“Because I have much more entertaining things to do with my time than spending a Friday night in a gym drinking fruit punch all night,” I truthfully tell her.
“Oh?” She says, raising her eyebrows at me skeptically as if the fact that I have better things to do than go to a dance is a surprise to her. “Like what, exactly?”
“Like watching How I Met Your Mother on Netflix, obviously?” I respond matter-of-factly.
Sienna rolls her eyes at that and says, “Is it because you don’t have a date? Because if that’s it, we can so get you a date,” She assures me. “Or we can just go as a group, the four of us. Well, maybe just Aspen, you and me, because I’m sure Jason and Piper are going together,” Sienna suggests.
I think about that for a minute and then shake my head. “Then I’d have to go shopping for a dress because I have no Winter Formal appropriate dresses and you know I hate shopping.”
She glares at me for a minute feigning irritation and then, in a singsong voice, says, “It sounds like you’re making excuses.”
I pick up my pencil again and scribble down something I just heard Mr. Eubanks claim is important. “That’s because I am,” I reply, mocking her singsong voice.
“Oh, idea!” She quietly exclaims. “Graham’s not going with anyone—you can go with him! Then I’ll say yes to Ian—he asked me this morning—and Aspen won’t have trouble finding a guy.”
“Yeah, I am not going to the Winter Formal with Graham,” I veto automatically, rolling my eyes at that ridiculous idea then gather my blonde hair in my hands and pull it into a ponytail.
“Sawyer Jameson, how do you ever expect to fall in love and get married and have babies if you don’t want to go to a simple high school dance with a really gorgeous and great guy?”
“I don’t even like babies,” I tell her, crinkling my nose in distaste. “They’re scarily fragile and they eat so much and they cry so much and they’re expensive—I’d be fine not having one.”
“You are such a Scrooge—I hope you realize that,” She says, realizing that I’m not going to relent. It’s not that I’d have a problem going with Graham, I just don’t want to go to the dance.
“Somehow, I think that I can live with that,” I reply truthfully with a nonchalant shrug.
“You know, that’s exactly what a Scrooge would say,” Sienna notes matter-of-factly.
✿✿✿✿✿✿
“Well, I definitely agree with Sienna,” Aspen informs me a couple of hours later as the two of us are leaving second block—Study Hall—together.
“You would,” I mumble. Throughout the entire Study Hall block, Aspen and Sienna were texting and Sienna was apparently keying Aspen in on the dumb idea that she has for the formal.
“Is it such a crime that we want our best friend to be with a nice who’ll treat her well and who also looks like he just walked off the set of an Abercrombie photo-shoot?” Aspen asks me.
“No, the crime is that you and Sienna and Piper are all so incredibly blunt about it, especially when Graham’s around and it makes things so unbelievably awkward,” I explain with a groan.
“It’s only because we love you,” Aspen chirpily assures me as we head towards the cafeteria for lunch.
“Anyway,” I reply, not wanting to even thinking about the formal anymore today. “You’re good now, right?” I wonder.
“Oh, you mean because of the Thanksgiving thing?” She asks after giving me a long and confused look before getting it.
“Yeah, we didn’t really talk about it the morning after or anything,” I recall, remembering that after she went to sleep that night after leaving Elliot’s grave, we never spoke of it.
“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” Aspen promises me with a curt nod and a small smile. “I guess it was just…hard, you know, seeing his grave for the first time,” She explains with a heavy sigh.
“Well, that’s good,” I chime. “He’d want you to be happy, you know,” I inform her.
“Yeah, I know,” Aspen replies. “And don’t go changing the subject, missy,” She demands. “This is about you and that beautiful boy going to Winter Formal together,” Aspen explains.
“Well, who are you even going with?” I ask her with a light laugh.
“I’m actually not sure,” She says. “Chace and Lindsay broke up over the weekend though and he was like, trying to flirt with me all of first block, so I might go with him,” She tells me.
If you don’t remember, Chace is Dr. Fontana’s son and he’s also the guy who hooked up with Aspen on several occasions while he had a girlfriend then randomly stopped talking to Aspen.
I look over at her with a surprised look on my face. “Really? Chace Fontana? I thought that you hated him?”
“I do hate him,” Aspen verifies. “But he’s pretty gorgeous and pretty great in bed,” She explains casually.
“I really needed to know that my psychiatrist’s son’s sexual abilities please you, thank you so much for that,” I sarcastically note.
“You’re welcome,” Aspen jokingly remarks, sticking her tongue out just before we reach the cafeteria and walk into the doors together.
The lunch line is shorter than normal today, though I don’t know why. Either way though, we get through the line half the time with our lunch. Thankfully, today it’s pizza, which is one of the only good things that my school serves. Actually, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it’s good but you can bit into it and know it is pizza, which the same can’t be said for the fish sticks.
“So, it’s been like, six weeks—why the hell are you still here?” Aspen asks Jason as we sit down at the table, interrupting a tame make-out session that he and Piper are in the middle of.
“Well, it looks like my mom's going to be out of town a little bit longer than he thought,” Jason tauntingly grins, pulling away from Piper. “You’ll be stuck with me for a few more weeks.”
“Lovely,” Aspen sarcastically remarks, rolling her eyes and biting down into her pizza as I uncap my water bottle and take a sip from it.
“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Piper coos, wrapping her arm around Jason’s back and kissing his cheek, leaning into him.
“So lovely that you guys make me wish I had a boyfriend,” Sienna pipes from where she’s sitting on the other side of Jason, typing away on her iPhone.
“Maybe you can date Graham,” I jokingly suggest.
“Nah, even though you’re in denial now and can’t see it—you’re gonna marry that boy,” She casually informs me as if we’re talking about the weather or something.
“You are actually an awful person, I hope that you realize that,” I tell Sienna, chucking one of my French fries at her, which she somehow catches in her mouth like a weirdo.
“Um, I gotta go,” Aspen suddenly says, standing up from the table, and raking her fingers through her blonde hair with a weird look on her face.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, a little bit confused about her sudden mood swing.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…yeah, I’ll see you guys later,” She announces, turning on her heel and walking out of the cafeteria before anyone else can say anything.
“Your friend is really weird,” Jason informs us.
“Yet you still slept with her,” Piper reminds him, which makes Sienna and I both laugh.
“Touché,” Jason awkwardly respond, his face going beet red.
After that, lunch goes by relatively quickly and once it’s over, I make my way to my third block class—AP Physics, which is one of the two classes I share with Graham today.
“I need your help,” Graham says to me, walking into the room a few minutes after I arrive, sitting down in the desk beside me like he usually does.
“What with?” I wonder, crossing my left leg over my right under the desk and looking over at him curiously.
“How are you at Theology?” He questions with a sigh, starting to rummage through his backpack for something.
“Um, I have an ‘A’ in there, if that’s what you mean,” I reply. “Why do you ask?” I wonder, watching as he pulls some papers out of his backpack.
“Because I just found out that I’m failing it,” Graham mumbles, handing me a piece of a paper. Sure enough, it’s an interim report and it says that he has a 55% F in the class.
“What kind of person fails Theology?” I ask him with an amused giggled, handing him back the creased paper.
“The kind that doesn’t spend too much time thinking about where we go when we leave here,” He simply states.
“Makes sense,” I agree with a nod. “I don’t understand what you need my help with though,” I inform him honestly.
“Do you want to tutor me in it?” He asks hopefully giving me a wide grin, showcasing a row of perfectly straight teeth.
“Tutor you in Theology?” I ask, giving him a skeptical look.
“Yeah,” Graham clarifies with a short nod. “If I don’t pass Theology, I’m going to be one credit short of graduating next spring, that’s what my counselor told me just now. And as much as I love high school, I don’t want to spend an extra year here,” He explains.
“Well, contrary to popular belief, I’m actually very busy after school,” I tell him, referring to my daily therapy sessions and my job. The smile fades from his face then because I guess he can tell that I’m about to say no to tutoring him. I immediately feel guilty and because I’m such a nice person and he has such a nice smile, I make a sudden decision. “But I guess I can help you,” I add and the smile returns to his face. Like I said, he has a pretty wonderful smile and it’s kind of contagious, so I smile too and I guess that amuses him because he laughs.
“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” Graham asks with a boyish grin just as the bell rings, signaling the start to class.
“Yeah, I kind of am, aren’t I?” I jokingly reply before getting my textbook out as the teacher starts today’s awful and boring lesson.
When third block is over, I tell Graham that we can start the tutoring lessons tomorrow after school. It’s not like I’m a beast at Theology or anything like that but I do have an ‘A’ in there and I’ve maintained it all year, so I guess I’m not too awful in the class. I know that my mother probably won’t be happy with me skipping my session with Dr. Fontana tomorrow but hopefully when she finds out that I’ll be doing it to benefit someone else and not just myself, she’ll be okay with it. I doubt it though because she’s not the most understanding person.
“Don’t forget the Pink Floyd thing tomorrow,” I tell him as we leave the class together, about to part ways.
“I won’t forget the Pink Floyd thing tomorrow,” Graham assures me with a grin. “And I’m just gonna skip Trig on go on to the hospital, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “See you then and good luck, with your brother and everything,” I add.
“Thanks Sawyer,” He responds before, patting my shoulder before heading the opposite way that I am.
As I’m heading down the hallway, headed towards my Trigonometry class, I feel my iPhone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans. Since I hate people who just randomly stop in the middle of the hallway, I try not to be one of those people. I pull my phone out of my pocket as I’m walking and glance down at it, seeing a text message from Aspen. She never came back to lunch, which kind of worried me and Piper, Sienna and I all tried to call her but she didn’t answer any of our calls. I unlock my phone and read the text, which reads:
SOS—meet me in the first floor bathroom.
I doubt that there’s a real emergency or anything, so I’m not like, panicked or anything by her text. I’m sure she just needs some Midol or something like that. I mean, I don’t have any on me but I figure I might as well meet up with her anyway, just in case there actually is something wrong. I make my way down the hallway, going the opposite way that I’d intended to. When I reach the first floor girls bathroom, I pull the door open and walk in, finding that it’s pretty much empty, which is weird because this bathroom is usually really packed around this time.
“Aspen?” I call through the bathroom. “What’s the emergency?” I wonder and I don’t see her, so I assume she’s in a stall.
“Um,” She awkwardly starts and clears her throat. “I need you to guard the door and make sure no one comes in,” Aspen tells me.
“Okay? What for?” I slowly say, walking back to the door and flipping the lock on it so that no one can get inside it from the outside.
“Just do it!” Aspen shrills and I sigh, realizing that I’m going to be late to class for no reason because this obviously isn’t an emergency.
“Is this really necessary, Aspen?” I ask her, leaning against the door and putting my phone back down into the pocket of my jeans.
“It is totally necessary, Sawyer,” She mocks me.
“You wanted me to come in here to listen to you pee?” I wonder as I hear her unzip her pants.
“No, I wanted you to come in here to guard the door, so guard the door,” Aspen demands.
“I am guarding the door,” I reassure my incredibly weird best friend.
“Okay, just stay there until I come out,” She instructs to me then.
After about two minutes, Aspen flushes the toilet and then I hear the sound of her uncapping the top on her hand sanitizer. Aspen is definitely what you could call a germaphobe- she literally carries around one of those big bottles of Purell hand sanitizer. I know that a lot of people carry a small travel-sized one with them but Aspen carried the big one- the thing is 68 ounces and if that’s not scary, I don’t know what is.
“Okay, I’m coming out now,” Aspen tells me in a shaky voice.
“You didn’t really have to narrate that,” I reply with a laugh.
I hear the toilet stall unlatch and then Aspen walks out, wearing an unreadable expression on her face.
“Okay, Aspen, you’re seriously starting to freak me out—what’s wrong?” I ask her, starting to panic a little.
“I’m gonna die,” She says in a serious and somber tone. “My parents are going to murder me,” Aspen tells me.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I roll my eyes. “What are you even talking about?” I wonder, giving her a weird look. Aspen doesn’t say anything in response, she just wordlessly motions down with her eyes and I follow her gaze. When I see what she’s freaking out about, I involuntarily gasp and my hands fly to my mouth. “Aspen, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” I say.
Author's Note: I know the chapter's late and I'm sorry that that seems like a reccuring theme lately but like, you have to understand that I'm in high school, which means that I'm like, drowing in homework and stress and everything. I promise I'm gonna try my very, very, very best to not miss any more updates. Now, of course if something happens like my wi-fi isn't working or something like that, then there's really nothing that I can do about that but that shouldn't happen and even if it does, it shouldn't be out for more than like, a day. So, yeah.
Now then, thoughts on this chapter? Predictions for the next chapter? Do you guys think Sawyer and Graham should go to the formal together? Do you think they will? Thoughts on Sawyer? Graham? Aspen? Sienna? Jason? Piper? Anyone from the chapter? Pretty, pretty, please don't forget to comment and drop a lovely comment below! <3 Don't forget that the person who leaves the comment that I love the most gets the next chapter dedicated to them. Remember that you have to be a fan of me in order for me to dedicate a chapter to you! There's one person in particular who always leaves really lovely comments but I can't dedicate to them because they're not a fan of me and Wattpad won't let me dedicate it to them because, well, I don't know why. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to bumbleb825!
So, I think that's about it-- notice the song and photo, which is Sawyer's outfit for school!
I'll see you lovely people next Sunday and I love you a whole bunch, okay? <3