When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(58)

The ride back to the apartment is silent. Every few blocks, Violet, always the attentive one, glances in the rearview mirror to check on me. I give her a few doleful smiles, then turn my attention to the passing buildings until we get home.

Amanda and Will plop down on the couch, and Violet answers a call and rushes to her bedroom to talk.

“I’m going to go lay down,” I say, but don’t wait for a half-ass beg not to pout alone in my bedroom.

Snuggled up to the old, blue teddy bear Mom gave me for my fifth birthday, I rest my head on the pillow. My mind goes blank as I stare at the framed photo of Graham and me. It’s the same one he has in his room. After many demands, he finally had a copy made. I remember patiently waiting for it to arrive in the mail. Amanda ragged on me for a few days, saying I shouldn’t be this excited over a damn picture, but she doesn’t know what the picture means to me. To us.

Something about a photo taken without the subject’s knowledge is magical. As if it’s the only way to freeze a certain moment, and in this instance, prom night. Even with the disaster, I wouldn’t change anything leading us onto the dance floor to share one good memory of our Senior year.

My teddy bear and I sit straight up when a loud knock sounds on my door. “Come in,” I shout.

Violet’s red locks poke through the small crack when she pushes on the door. “Hey, you got a minute?” She glances back to the living room, and shuts the door quietly behind her.

“What’s going on?” I pat the mattress and she sits beside me.

“I know you have a lot going on. You and Graham are finally back together, and everything is good, but I’ve–”

“You’re right. My life is slowly getting back to normal. Well, as normal as it can get. I still have nightmares, but they’ve stalled a bit, you know?” I ramble, my hands flinging around in the air with my excitement of my hopefully luminous future. “Did you know Graham’s been talking to a few scouts for baseball? Like pro baseball?”

Violet’s voice is a near whisper as she stares out the window. “Yeah, you told me last week.”

“It’s crazy. It’s like all the turmoil and stress is finally turning around for the both of us.” I bounce up and down.

Violet lurches off the bed and stomps to the door. When she spins around to face me, her eyes begin to water. She jerks away when I run over to grab her hand.

“What’s going on?” My head spins from the sudden mood change.

“I know you’ve had a few hard years, and I’ve always been sensitive about everything. I’ve been by your side through it all, held your hand, and dried your tears, but you can’t even take two minutes to listen to me. You turned it back around to your life and what you’re going through.” She lets out a loud gust of air. Her eyes dart around my face, but she never looks me in the eyes. “For once, it would’ve been nice if you’d listen to me and my problems.”

The door bangs against the drywall as she storms out my room. I’m on her heels, but she slams her bedroom door in my face.

“Violet.” I twist the knob to find it locked. “Violet, open up.” I knock until my knuckles ache. When I lean against the door, Will and Amanda are staring at me. My eyes slam shut. Her words settle into the deepest part of my soul, weaving their way to my heart.

I’m a shitty friend.

How has it gone unbeknownst to me that my friend is going through a hardship and I’m none the wiser? That is the definition of a shitty friend.

“Everything okay?” Will’s worried voice breaks me from my pity party.

See, even now, I manage to turn it back to myself.

“No, everything’s not okay,” I answer before slamming my bedroom door behind me and crawling on my bed.

Everything Violet and I have been through, every conversation, our entire friendship, plays through my head. Since freshman year, I can’t recall her indulging in a serious conversation. Not one problem at home or in the few relationships she’s had. Nothing. Her worries have never seemed greater than Saturday night parties and what she plans to wear to dances. To the outside world, at least to me, her life appears pristine.

Even when my cell phone rings from somewhere in the apartment, I don’t budge from my memories. The annoying tone stops, but starts again. After several rounds of my ringtone, the door swings open and bangs against the drywall … again. Amanda holds my phone above her head.

“Y’all are going to fix my wall when there’s a giant hole in it,” I say.

“I’m not your secretary. Answer your own damn phone,” she barks, clearly irritated from listening to my phone ringing instead of sucking face with my brother.

She tosses it, and when I catch it, Graham’s name is flashing on the screen. I mouth ‘thank you,’ but Amanda walks out without acknowledging me.

Without saying hello, I answer. “Am I a shitty friend?”

“What?” The confusion in his voice would be funny if I wasn’t so worried about Violet.

“Am I a shitty friend? Am I the type of friend who ignores others’ problems because mine seem much more important?” I rush out the question, impatient for an answer.

“Ken, you aren’t a shitty friend. Maybe a bit distracted, but only because you’ve been dealt a poor hand. You had no choice. You had to come first.”