15

Blair

Age 16

Darkness.

That’s what I remember from the past few weeks. It’s almost all I remember.

No—there’s the fall and the pain, too. I vaguely remember Asher carrying me out of the building, his voice frantic, but everything else is blurry.

It was only a fractured ankle, after all. It hurt a heck of a lot, but is that enough to make everything seem so distant, so foggy? Sometimes I think my brain is trying to protect me, hiding the deeper wounds under layers of numbness.

I lie in a hospital bed, listening as my parents rush in. Mom’s voice wavers between worry and rage. I hear every word, though her voice feels a million miles away. I shouldn’t have snuck out. I shouldn’t have taken risks. They ask how it happened, and I realize they must not know.

Mom had threatened to take my dream of ballet school away from me. In the end, she needn’t have bothered.

I took that dream away from myself.

Asher and I, our games— that took it away. To get into ballet school, you have to be the best of the best. Even with talent and years of training, most girls don’t make it. But I was going to.

But this…

This has ruined everything.

“What about ballet?” I whimper, clinging to my mom’s arm.

She strokes my hair, smiling that cold, polished smile. “You can still do it as a hobby, honey. But you’ll be too busy soon. Once you’re married and have children, there won’t be time for silly little hobbies.”

Her words cut as deeply as the broken ankle.

Asher tries to visit me. He calls and texts every day, like a madman. But I can’t bear to see his face or hear his voice. It’s too raw, too tangled up with the future I’ve just lost. I’m terrified my parents will trap me in their world now that I have no escape plan. I don’t want to marry one of their stuffy friends’ sons and disappear into a life of charity events and PTA meetings.

Asher’s name flashes on my phone. I decline the call.

I miss him. But even thinking of him rips open a wound that I don’t know how to close.

Back at home, I don’t get out of bed. I keep the blinds closed. Friends call, try to come over. Josh sends flowers. I let it all go by, drifting back to sleep whenever I can. It’s the only thing that feels good now, the darkness folding around me, numbing everything.

Eventually, I realize Asher has stopped calling so much. I don’t know when, exactly, because I’m too numb to notice anything anymore.

One afternoon, I feel a new kind of ice in my mom’s eyes when she walks into my bedroom. She’s always been judgmental, but this is something else. The polished mask is gone, replaced by something sharp and hateful.

“I spoke to the hospital staff,” she says. “I know it was that boy Asher who brought you in. He did this to you.”

My throat tightens. I can’t answer.

“We’re not going to stand by and watch you ruin your life. And ruin our lives, too. Our reputation in the community is at stake here, Blair.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she drops her ultimatum.

“If you ever, ever speak to Asher Stone again, we’ll call the police on him.”

My stomach twists. “What?” I manage, my voice barely a whisper.

“He deals… substances, Blair. Drugs. And I know you know that, too.” Her gaze hardens. “We’ll be checking your calls and texts from now on. You’re grounded. No seeing friends unless it’s explicitly approved by us.”

A heavy silence fills the room, pressing down on me. “You wouldn’t,” I breathe.

She gives a thin, bitter smile. “I’ve worked hard to have this life. I’m not letting my petulant daughter snatch that away from me. You have no idea what I’m capable of, Blair. Believe me.”

If the cops take Asher down, that’s it—his whole future is gone, too. No tattoo shop, no chance of a better life. And his grandma…how would she survive without him?

My voice trembles as I finally respond. “F-fine…”

Satisfied, she turns and leaves.

As the door closes, the darkness around me seems to thicken, swallowing me whole. I stare out the window into the blackness outside, wondering where Asher is. I wonder if he’s thinking about me. Anger and regret rise up, tightening my chest, as I think about the weeks I’ve spent hiding, isolating myself from my friends, from him, from the world.

Little did I know, it was my last chance to see him.

Now, that chance is gone.

Maybe when I’m eighteen and can move out, I’ll finally be free. Maybe I’ll find a way to escape all this.

But until then, I’m trapped.

Please wait for me, Asher.