Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(36)
Sometimes I forget just how hard it’s been for Jennika to not only watch me deal with the kind of things she can’t understand—and really doesn’t want to—but to also leave me in the care of a woman she doesn’t really know all that well.
She worries.
She means well.
And the longer she stays, the more I’ll have to remind myself of that.
“I didn’t want to impinge on you and Paloma,” she continues. “But now I’m thinking maybe I should.”
Great. I stare at my tea, as she stares at me. Once again, her timing couldn’t be worse. She must have some crazy maternal instinct that tells her just the right moment to interfere. Nothing else explains it.
“So, now that I’ve answered your question, it’s time for you to answer mine. What’s going on with you and school? Why weren’t you there today, when other than your inexplicable wet hair, you seem fine to me? Where were you and Paloma anyway? What’s going on, Daire?”
I look to Paloma to save me, but she’s returned to the stove. Her back turned toward us as she focuses on food prep.
Deciding to answer her barrage of questions as a whole, I say, “I needed a mental health day, so Paloma took me on a field trip. Said a little time spent outdoors would do me good.” I shrug. It’s as good an answer as any and as close to the truth as I can afford.
“What do you mean, mental health day? Are the visions back?” Jennika’s face pales, remembering the hallucinations that landed me here. But I’m quick to wave it away, reluctant to revisit that topic again.
“No. Nothing like that. I just … well, school’s a whole new experience for me, as you know, and it’s been a bit of an adjustment, that’s all.”
“Is this about that boy?” She frowns, her face darkening as the diamond stud in her nose twitches and winks.
“By that boy, I’m assuming you mean Dace?” I narrow my gaze on hers. Knowing full well she remembers his name.
“Dace Whitefeather, yes. So—is it? Did something happen between you?”
I lean back in my seat, not really wanting to discuss this but also knowing she won’t let it go quite so easily. Jennika’s a pit bull. She’ll gladly sit here all night waiting for the answer she seeks. She can be unbelievably stubborn. I know because she’s the one who taught me to be unbelievably stubborn too.
I sigh, already dreading her reaction. I admit, “We’re not really together at the moment. We’re taking a break.”
“A break?” She cocks her head as a look of suspicion crosses her face.
“A short break.” I nod. Inwardly rolling my eyes at myself, knowing that to her ears that hardly makes it any better or any more believable.
“And whose decision was this—to take this short break?” She folds her hands before her, waiting for me to spill the whole grisly tale.
I take a deep breath, wanting to say it was mine, but she’ll never believe it. She knows me too well. She’ll sense the lie the instant it passes my lips. So I go with the truth—or at least a partial truth. “His. It was his idea.” Unable to resist adding, “Happy now?” Knowing full well that she is. She loves being right. Most people do.
She splays her hands on either side of her cup, unable to keep the self-satisfied glint from sneaking onto her face. “A short break—and so close to Christmas—how charming.” She shakes her head, taps her cobalt-blue polished nails hard against the tabletop. “Does this mean you’ll reconvene after the New Year? Or perhaps you can delay until well after Valentine’s Day in order to steer clear of all the more romantic holidays?”
I gaze down at my tea. If only it was that easy.
She sighs long and loud, as though resigning herself to the burden of always being right. Adopting a cloying, singsongy tone, she says, “Well, I hate to say I told you so—”
“No you don’t.” I slide my elbows across the table and lean toward her, looking her straight in the eye. “You don’t hate it at all. You practically live for those words.”
She studies me. Probably trying to determine whether I’m angry, amused, or indifferent. The thought lasting a handful of seconds before she casts it aside. “True.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “But in this particular case it would’ve been nice to be wrong. I know you don’t believe me, Daire, but I truly am sorry, and I really do understand what you’re going through. Dace was your first real boyfriend, but he won’t be your last. So while it may feel bad now—”
“Could you please not do that?” I say. Responding to the confused look she gives me when I add, “Could you please not talk about other fish in the sea, stallions in the barn, roosters in the pen, or any other animal analogies and just allow me this moment to wallow? Like you said, it’s my first breakup, so let me experience it in its entirety before you push me toward some phantom boy I have no interest in meeting just yet, okay?”
I slump low in my seat, surprised by the way my voice broke at the end. My intention was merely to play along, tell her what she wanted to hear, by pretending that it really is as simple as she thinks. Just your average high school romance gone suddenly south—all so Dace could be spared the burden of buying me a Christmas gift. But the longer I spoke, the more the words became real. And it’s not long after that my paranoia sets in.