8

"But the truth is I don't want to know."

Asher

What a start to a Monday. A call to the guidance counsellor. I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs waiting to be called in. I tapped my foot as I watched the clock on the wall move agonizingly slowly. Each movement of the arms was like a jolt to my patience.

"Asher."

I looked into the familiar caramel eyes, enlarged by thick-rimmed glasses. I'd been here more than I'd like to admit.

"Ms. Kendall." I said in greeting as I waltzed into her office. "What have I done this time?"

Normally, she would take delight in my quips, but she seemed tense.

"We need to have a serious talk."

She sat down behind her desk. I sat across from her.

"What's going on?"

"Asher, your grades are dropping."

My nose twitched. Not this again.

"I know."

"You're in your senior year, Asher." She said. "You can't afford to let your GPA slip now."

I shrugged.

"It's not like I'm going to college."

Her eyes widened as if I'd just confessed to a murder.

"What happened to UBC?"

"I changed my mind."

She sighed and took off her glasses before massaging her temples. She always did this when I was in her office.

"Asher, I understand last year was a lot for you, but-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

I grew weary of people mentioning it, longing to forget that time and move on. Unfortunately, this town served as a constant reminder.

"You can't avoid it forever."

"Watch me." I said with more aggression than intended.

"Asher, please-"

"Are we done here?"

She nodded her head, and I motored out of there. Our interaction left a foul taste in my mouth. I needed a smoke.

The moment I stepped onto the football field; the expanse of manicured, vibrant green grass hit me. I hid under the bleachers. The designated smoking spot.

I brought the slender cylinder to my lips. The tip of the cigarette ignited, releasing an obscure, harsh scent that mingled with the morning air. I savoured the smoke filling my lungs.

"Are you planning on sharing?"

Ava approached me with her hands behind her back. Her hair flowed behind her as she skipped her way over. Confidence radiated with every step.

I offered her the cigarette, and she accepted.

"What's with the pout?"

"I don't pout."

She drew the nicotine into her lungs.

"Sure, Asher."

I wasn't in the mood for her quips. My jaw clenched as a searing heat coursed through my body. A tempest of emotions crashed against my restraint.

"I'm not in the mood."

"You hardly are these days."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not the same."

Another person to point that out.

"People change, Ava," I said. "It's called evolving."

She glanced at my wrist. Her focus fell on the argent line, contrasting with my natural tone. The scar ran deeper than just the surface. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket down.

The air grew heavy with unsaid words. Her uneasy eyes bounced everywhere but mine. I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my hair.

"I think it's best if I leave."

She lowered her head, and I took that as my cue to leave.

??

I wiped the grease stains on my hands as I inspected the engine of my truck. The motored garage door was open, allowing the breeze to cool my overheated body down.

Tranquillity cocooned the neighbourhood, with the occasional rustling of leaves breaking the silence.

"You've been here for quite some time."

My mom stood under the doorway that led into the house. Her tired eyes stared at me, yet the sparkle of wisdom never faded.

"Trying to keep myself busy," I said. "Trying to stay out of trouble."

She stood beside me as she leaned against my workstation, taking in the jumbled state of the vehicle.

"You always had a knack for fixing things."

I folded one leg over the other as I leaned back against the cemented wall.

"It would calm me down."

She placed her hand on my shoulder. She'd always been our fortress of solace.

"I've been worried about you."

I couldn't meet her eyes as remorse weighed on my shoulders and my gaze lingered on the engine of my truck.

I wanted to promise her I was okay, and that I wasn't carrying a loaded secret in my back pocket, but I couldn't lie to her. Not again.

"I appreciate that."

"The Whitlock's are coming for dinner tonight."

She must have sensed I wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart discussion. She squeezed my shoulder before retreating. I had to stop myself from pleading for her to stay.

Nothing I say or do could make up for what I'd done. What I'd been hiding.

??