Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Josie

Present day…

“Shit.” I jerk my hand back from the pan on the oven, shaking it in the air, which does nothing to stop the burning sensation on my fingers. I hadn’t realized the flames were up too high and heated up the pan handle.

“Why are you allowed to swear and I’m not?” Everly slides my coffee cup across the counter and takes a big drink.

“Because you’re fourteen and I’m your mother.” I turn the stovetop burner off, giving up on the gluten-free pancake, and grab a sugary granola bar from the pantry instead. So much for eating healthy, right? “Eat this and hurry up so you don’t miss the bus.”

“I don’t want to go to school,” Everly laments, tossing her thick dark hair back. “Don’t make me go.”

“Please don’t do this.” I get another coffee cup down from the cabinet, knowing I’m not going to get mine back. Everly drinks almost as much coffee as I do. “Not today.”

“Fine. I’ll reschedule my rebellion for tomorrow.”

“As long as I have advance notice.” I fill my mug and add just a dash of vanilla-flavored almond milk.

“Deal. I’ll walk out during fourth period.”

“Make it fifth. I’ll have most of my work done by then.”

Everly rolls her eyes and takes another gulp of coffee.

“Eat something,” I press and reach up to touch my hair. I curled it early this morning and sprayed the spirals with nearly half a can of hairspray. My hair is stick straight, not anywhere as thick as my daughter’s and doesn’t hold a curl to save its life. Grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the small island counter, I hand it to Everly and hurry into the bathroom to carefully separate my curls and get dressed.

“How do I look?” I ask when I come back into the kitchen and find Everly on her phone—and the banana not even peeled. Plucking the phone from her hands, I give a twirl and shake my head, making my curls swing around my face.

She raises her eyebrows and looks me up and down. “You look like you might come home and tell me I’m going to be an older sister.”

I huff and roll my eyes. “I guess I’ll change.”

“You could wear a potato sack and Professor Grabby-hands will still want to make you his newest baby-mama.”

“You take things too far.” I stick my coffee in the microwave, shaking my head.

“I get it from you.”

“That is true.” Spinning around, I peel back the top of the banana and give it to Everly. “Eat. And I would have gone with the black dress, which is a little more conservative, but it’s kinda tight because—”

“It shrunk in the dryer, not because you’ve gained weight,” Everly says at the same time as I do. We both laugh and Everly finally takes a bite of the banana. It’s a bit of a mad dash to finish getting ready and, right as Everly is about to walk out to wait for the bus, she remembers she didn’t pack a lunch for herself today so it’s an even madder dash back into the house to throw together something for her to eat. We’re both vegetarians and Everly went full vegan over a year ago. She’s my tree-hugging, animal-loving, rights-for-everyone daughter and I couldn’t be prouder of that kid.

Thankfully, the bus is running late today, no doubt having gotten stuck by a train, which gives us a minute to stand outside the house together. It took me a long time to get here and moving to Indianapolis wasn’t my first choice. But the animal pharmaceutical company I work for gave a generous moving bonus as well as covering all the costs of hiring movers to take our stuff from my hometown of Naperville, Illinois.

My plan was always to move to a smaller town, somewhere with a lower cost of living and maybe someday I’d even be able to afford a house with land and a barn so I could get a horse of my own again. It was by the grace of God that my parents didn’t make me sell my horse after I told them I was pregnant. The fact that I was able to find someone to lease Phoenix certainly didn’t hurt either.  He lived for six more years before getting sick and having to be suddenly put down. I still miss him just as much today as I did when I first lost him.

Everly certainly inherited my love of horses and, for the last several years, all she’s wanted for Christmas or her birthday is money to put towards riding lessons.

“There’s the bus,” I tell Everly, eyeing the group of kids standing on the corner, also waiting for the bus.

“I don’t want to go to school,” Everly says softly. She’s also looking at the group of kids, and it hurts my heart so damn much knowing the reason she doesn’t want to go to school is because she doesn’t have many friends. We’ve been here for nearly a year now, and high school is hard enough when you’re not the new kid. Add in being an outspoken, wise-beyond-your-years kid raised by a single mother, and you’re even more of the odd man out.

She became good friends with one kid in particular right away, but Alma’s family moved to help take care of her elderly grandparents not long ago. Everly insists she has other friends, just not ones she likes enough to hang out with, which makes me wonder if she has other friends at all but doesn’t want me to know.

“The year is almost over,” I tell her, smoothing her dark hair back. “And I was kinda thinking about seeing if Aunt Kim will let us come for a visit this summer.”

“Really?” Everly’s eyes light up. “You can take time off work?”

“Really. I won’t be selling drugs to college students in the summer so that’s not an issue.”

“Mom. You know how it sounds when you talk like that,” she hisses, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.

“Ah, right. I always forget.” I wink, trying not to laugh, and kiss the top of her head as the bus pulls up. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She turns, eyes meeting mine for a lingering second before inhaling, straightening her posture, and getting on the bus. Only one other mom comes down to the bus stop like this, and it’s because her son has a tendency to skip school. I give her a wave and head back inside to gather my stuff, make sure our cat, Mr. Meowster, has water, and then head out.

It’s a bit of a drive to get to the university even when traffic isn’t bad. I make it with plenty of time to spare, and slowly make my way to Professor Grabby-hands’ office.

“Ah, Josephine,” he says with a broad smile as soon as I knock on the doorframe. “Come in.”

“Good morning, Professor Gabain. How are you?” I walk in and set my bag on an empty chair in front of his desk. Profession Gabain hasn’t actually grabbed me, but he earned his nickname due to his inability to take no for answer. He’s insisted to get drinks together every time I’ve come to the campus. He’s older but is a decent-looking guy and is actually pretty funny.

The problem is that he’s married.

“There is light at the end of the tunnel,” he says with a laugh. It’s finals week and I’m not presenting anything to students today, but just passing along some information about a new equine antibiotic the pharm company I work for wants to push. I always feel weird presenting something like this to a room full of professors of veterinary medicine. I’m not qualified. I have no formal education.

And anytime I’m in a room with students, I can’t help but look out at them and feel a painful sense of longing. As hard as I try, that voice in the back of my head reminds me that could have been you.

But I don’t regret the choices I made, not for one moment.

I started as a simple data collector for the company, plugging in numbers provided to me, and worked up from there. I oversee and manage other entry-level data analyzers, and my boss has been pushing me to go full time in sales for a while now, which is why I’ve been presenting new medications to the university. I’m young, have a pretty face, and am overall good with people. I would make a good sales rep, but I haven’t been able to fully commit myself yet. I’m happy where I am; though, this is by no means where I want to end up. But for now, it works and I’m able to be home when Everly gets off the bus.

Professor Gabain makes small talk, telling me three times how some of the other professors are getting together tonight for drinks. And three times, I clearly say I’m going home to my daughter. Then I’m finally able to talk to him and a few other professors, as well as several members of the university board. I go through my usual speech, briefly explaining what this drug does, why it’s better than our competitors, and how our company would love to partner with the university and offer sponsorships. We have a good rapport with this university, and I end my last presentation of the school year on a positive note.

I call my boss on the hour and a half drive home, making it back to my house with just enough time to spare to check in on the data entries for the day before Everly gets home. I’m about to close my laptop when an email notification pops up on the screen.

It’s from the guidance counselor at Everly’s school, asking if there’s any way I can come in for a meeting with her tomorrow to discuss the ongoing bullying issue Everly has been involved in. My stomach drops to the floor. Bullying issue? Ongoing? There’s no way my daughter —who’d rather thrift her clothes than buy something new because fast fashion is harmful to women in third world countries—would bully anyone.

Which only means one thing: she’s the one being bullied.