Regretting You(53)

“Good,” Jonah says, reminding us of his presence. “Project is due before the end of the semester. Get started.”

“Okay,” Miller and I say in unison.

Jonah rolls his eyes and walks back around his desk. Miller backs away from me. “I’ll meet you after class.”

I smile.

He smiles back, but when he leaves the room, my smile turns to a frown. Once again, I feel guilty for even smiling.

“Whoa.”

I look up at Jonah. “What?”

“The look on your face. Your smile disappeared as soon as he did. You okay?”

I nod, but I don’t elaborate.

Jonah doesn’t let it go, though. “Clara. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, because it’s stupid. “I don’t know. I just . . . I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“It’s only been forty-five days, and I woke up happy today. I feel like a terrible person for even feeling good for one second.” Especially since their wreck was my fault. I leave that part out of my confession, though.

“Welcome to the theme park,” Jonah says.

I look at him quizzically, so he begins to offer up an explanation.

“Right after something tragic happens, you feel like you’ve fallen off a cliff. But after the tragedy starts to sink in, you realize you didn’t fall off a cliff. You’re on an eternal roller coaster that just reached the bottom. Now it’s gonna be up and down and upside down for a long, long time. Maybe even forever.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Jonah shrugs. “I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m on the same roller coaster you are.”

The door opens, and students begin to file in. I can’t stop staring at Jonah. His eyes have crinkled at the corners, and his lips have a slight downward turn to them.

It tugs at my heartstrings a little, seeing him stressed out, or sad, or whatever that look is. I don’t like it. He’s always been quiet and a little serious, but his eyes have always seemed happy. I guess I haven’t really looked at him long enough since the wreck to really see how much it changed him.

It makes me wonder how much it’s changed my mother. I hardly look at her anymore either. I wonder if that’s because of my guilt.



Miller isn’t waiting for me after class like he said he would be. I’m not even sure where he has first period, so I linger in the hallway for a minute and wait for him.

“Clara?”

I spin around at the sound of my mother’s voice. She’s holding a folder in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other. She only breaks out the Louis on special occasions, so I’m not sure what she’s doing here and why the Louis is out, but it instantly makes me nervous.

“What are you doing?”

She holds up the folder. “Applying for a job.”

“Here?”

“They’re hiring substitute teachers. I thought I could do that for a few months. See if I like it. I’ve decided to go back to college.”

The hall is starting to clear out. I look around to make sure no one is near us. “Are you serious?”

She looks at me like I just offended her. “What’s wrong with me going to college?”

I didn’t mean to offend her. If she wants to go to college, I’m happy for her. But the last thing I want is for her to test the waters at the school I attend daily. We already can’t get along at home. I can’t imagine potentially having her in class.

I shake my head. “I didn’t mean—” My words are cut off when lips meet my cheek and an arm snakes around my waist.

“I was trying to find you. Where do you go for study period?”

I look at Miller, wide eyed. I look back at my mother. My expression prompts Miller to look from me to my mother. I feel him stiffen, and then he drops his arm to his side. It’s the first time I’ve seen Miller look flustered. He holds out his hand to my mother to formally introduce himself. She just stares at his hand and then looks at me.

Miller starts to mumble an apology. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Grant. I thought you were just one of Clara’s friends. You . . . you look really young.”

My mother is staring daggers at me, ignoring him.

“She is young,” I say to Miller. “She had me when she was seventeen.”

My mother doesn’t miss a beat as she finally addresses Miller. “We’re very fertile women. Be careful.”

Oh my God.

I cover my eyes for a brief moment. I can’t even look at him when I say, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

I can see him nod out of the corner of my eye, and he quickly walks in the opposite direction.

“I can’t believe you just said that to him.”

“You’re dating him now?” she says, motioning over my shoulder. “I thought you said he had a girlfriend.”

“He broke up with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re right—I don’t.” She’s raising her voice now. I’m relieved the hallway is empty. “Since the day you started hanging out with him, you’ve skipped out on your father’s funeral, you’ve done drugs, you’re never home, you’re late for curfew. He’s not good for you, Clara.”