100

Kassie

Liar

When I don't feel like something's stable, I start getting ready to go.

It's a pretty good survival tactic and it's one I learned when I was little, bouncing back and forth when my parents could take me and I knew they couldn't handle it anymore. After time, I developed an art to it.

It had everything to do with keeping possessions small.

The less you had that reminded of them, the quicker you could move on to the next step. I took the time I needed and then I got to work. Because everything in that damn dorm reminded me of him.

My phone was in the crook of my elbow while I waited for the apartment complex to pick up. Everything in the dorm needed to go in the trash. Or the donation bin downstairs, the ugly green one with stains on the side and a mechanical drawer where you couldn't retrieve the items after you shoved them through.

Holding up one of the Romans flags, I hesitated.

"Hello?" a voice called over the phone.

"Hi." I swallowed hard and reached down below my desk, to grab the cardboard box, folded up down below. "Um…I was wondering if I could check on the status of my lease application?"

"No problem, what's the first name?"

"Kassandra."

"Last name?"

"Ragar," I answered, pulling the cardboard box to shape.

Only the sound of a keyboard clicking over the phone echoed out and I started piling things into the box. Just shoving them in. When you don't feel like you're in a good situation anymore, you leave . And you don't look behind you. Everything I had was another mirror, catching the view behind me.

I sighed, clutching the side of the box.

"I can't do this," I whispered.

"What, ma'am?"

"Nothing," I hurried to say, reaching up to wipe away at my eyes with the bottom of my hand. "I didn't say anything."

The truth was, I couldn't put everything through the donation box. I couldn't…do that to Ryan. I knew how much some of this stuff meant to him and with shaky fingers, I started taking the tacks off of the corkboards, one after another.

You're going to regret this .

No doubt. Everything in me wanted to rip it up and burn it but I just couldn't do it. Not this time. I'd drop it off at the training center and that would be that. If he wanted it, fine. If not, fine. It didn't matter to mean. It meant nothing to me.

Liar.

"Ma'am, we emailed you with an acceptance days ago."

I stared ahead at the corkboard, shocked. "You did?"

"Yes?"

"Oh."

I hadn't even bothered to check. That's how enamored I was with the football player, I stopped looking out for myself, and I got all tangled up with him.

"Ma'am, you have until the end of the week to accept."

"Okay," I choked out. "Okay. Thank—thank you."

The phone call ended and I shoved it aside, trying to pluck at the tacks again. I couldn't. My hands were shaking too badly. This is what I deserved for putting too much stock in the future. You make these kinds of hopes and you get disappointed.

It's a tale as old as time.