Chapter 4

The table erupted with teasing.

I sat straighter, my hands clasped beneath the table.

I was about to spare Ethan the embarrassment when he answered first.

“Stop. Our families have known each other forever.”

The noise faded.

“After her accident, our parents asked me to look out for her. That’s all.”

He said it so casually.

I thought of him lowering the blinds beside my seat and carefully checking my scraped palm. I had felt close to him then.

Now, in front of everyone, he made those moments sound like chores our parents had assigned him. I looked down, wishing no one had asked.

I went to the restroom and stayed until my face looked composed again.

When I stepped into the hallway, I heard voices near the other restroom.

“Ethan, when are you going to date someone?”

“You’re always with Avery. Who would even try getting close to you?”

“She’s been recovering for almost a year. Are you supposed to take care of her forever?”

“Chloe obviously likes you. You’ll regret missing that chance because of some childhood promise.”

“Think about yourself for once. Stop fixing everything for Avery.”

I could not hear Ethan’s response.

It no longer mattered.

To them, I was both his burden and the obstacle between him and Chloe.

I waited outside the private room until he appeared.

“I have a headache,” I said. “I’m going home. You don’t need to drive me. I’ll call a cab.”

His expression changed.

Maybe his friends’ words were still pressing on him. Maybe he had been holding this inside for months.

“Can you stop making everyone change their plans for you?”

I stared at him.

“If you leave, everyone expects me to leave too. I have other friends and things I want to do.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“But it always ends the same way. You have a headache, so I turn off the lights. You get dizzy, so I drive you home. If you need someone, everybody comes looking for me.”

His voice dropped.

“I’m not your parent, Avery. I shouldn’t have to be responsible for you forever.”

Then he said what had probably been waiting inside him all along.

“Can you give me room to breathe?”

The words outside prom had not been a moment of frustration. He meant them.

I swallowed and checked the car’s arrival time.

“You don’t have to drive me anywhere, Ethan. I’ve already arranged my ride.”

He looked as though he wanted to speak, but I continued.

“If you don’t want to help, tell me. But don’t offer and then blame me for accepting.”

My voice shook. I let it.

“Thank you for what you’ve done. I’ll make other arrangements from now on.”

When my car arrived, I went outside.

When the college decisions arrived, Ethan and I both received good offers.

Our parents arranged a dinner to celebrate.

Halfway through the meal, Melissa smiled at me.

“Have you decided, Avery? You and Ethan always wanted Westbridge.”

She turned to him.

“What about you?”

“Westbridge. I’ve decided.”

He looked at me.

“We should drive up together. You still have that packing list?”

“I’m not planning to go—”

“If you lost it, we’ll make another one. But you can’t bring so many dresses this time. Leave some room for my stuff.”

I closed my mouth and set down my fork.

Melissa began asking about his dorm, and I let the conversation move on.

Ethan was pleased I hadn’t argued. Usually, I would have insisted on bringing every dress, then spent the rest of dinner planning our trip.

Still, he wondered why I had so little to say. Then he remembered Mason saying I was afraid he would leave me behind. Perhaps hearing him confirm Westbridge had reassured me. He didn’t think he needed to ask again.

On the way home, Mom asked, “Did something happen between you and Ethan?”

She never missed a change in me.

“I need to make other arrangements,” I said. “I don’t want to keep wondering whether he’ll resent me every time I need help.”

Mom touched my hair.

“You’re getting better every day. Needing help sometimes doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.”

Her voice softened.

“And I will always take care of you.”

Over the next few evenings, I spread my college offers across the kitchen table and compared the courses.

Lakeshore had small fiction workshops and a student magazine. I read several issues online, then went back to the course descriptions and marked the classes I wanted to take.

Mom sat beside me while I opened the enrollment page.

“Lakeshore?” she asked.

“Yes. There’s a workshop where students bring in their own stories. I want to try it.”

I accepted the offer and paid the deposit.

Afterward, my parents took me traveling.

I spent the rest of the summer in Lakeshore University’s early transition program. I chose my classes, learned the campus shuttle routes, and returned to light exercise.

The dizziness was becoming less frequent, though it still caught me sometimes.

During a campus tour, I told the guide I needed to sit down. Another student waited with me on a shaded bench. We talked about our dorm assignments until I felt steady enough to rejoin the group.

That evening, I called Mom, finished planning my timetable, and opened my notebook.

I read through the unfinished story and began working on the ending.

I returned home only briefly before moving three hours away to Lakeshore.

A few days later, Ethan came to my house.

Mom told me about the conversation afterward.

“Is Avery home?” he asked. “I wanted to ask when she’s leaving for Westbridge.”

Mom looked surprised.

“Avery’s school starts early. She has already left.”

Ethan froze.

“Westbridge move-in isn’t for another two weeks.”

After a pause, he asked quietly, “Where did she go?”

“Lakeshore University.”