Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(16)

“If you say so.”

I got up and pushed my hair back from my face. “Will you tell me when you’re done?”

“Of course, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She sighed and sank down in the tub again, letting the water rise up to her chin. “I could be perfectly happy here for hours.”

I left her to her solitude and went to my room, wishing I could channel some of her confidence, but feeling more conflicted than ever. What was I to do when my mother told me one thing and my father the exact opposite? How was I to know who to trust? Meanwhile, the top of the hourglass on my desk—once full of red sand—was already about a quarter of the way empty. The pressure was compounding around me.

The sand timer, Artemis and Apollo, my father, Hephaestus, Claudia, Peter, Zeus, Orion. I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know if I could succeed.

If only Harmonia were here. She always knew what to do.

I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes closed, and imagined Harmonia beside me in a room filled with roses. The scent of flowers always calmed me down and helped me think straight. Had I been in my chambers on Mount Olympus, I could have conjured thousands of blooms at a whim. I could have rolled in them, bathed in them, buried myself in them.

But I was here, and I was powerless. Or nearly so. The only thing I could do was keep my eyes closed, breathe, and use my imagination.

Harmonia’s laugh. Her reassuring gaze. And roses. Roses everywhere. I imagined the heady scent filling my nostrils and soothing away my fears and anxieties, helping me think. I breathed in and out, trying to see them. Roses upon roses all over my room.

Something pricked my palm.

“Ow!” My eyes fluttered open, my soothing vision obliterated. I looked down at my hand, and my heart stopped beating.

Clutched inside my fist was the stem of a gorgeous, plump, red rose.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Peter


“Sixteen schools? You really think I need to apply to that many?”

This was narrowing it down?

I stared at the stack of brochures. The one on the top had a picture of four smiling kids of different skin colors, laughing on a blanket as orange leaves fell. They were surrounded by books and a bike, a skateboard and backpacks. They all looked smarter than me. They looked like people Claudia would love to hang out with.

“Most of them take the general application,” Mr. Garvey said, his forehead glistening. He’d been my guidance counselor since freshman year, and every year his hairline moved farther back on his head. He leaned forward in his chair and glanced at Coach Morschauser, who sat next to me.

“And most of ’em are looking for QBs.”

“Yeah?” I said hopefully.

“Yeah. Now we just gotta get their scouts out here to take a look at you,” he replied, like he wasn’t entirely sure if it would even be possible. “Rutgers and the College of New Jersey are coming out this weekend to check out Ross, so if you put on a good show . . . well, you never know.”

Mitchell Ross was our kicker, and had been All-State for the past two years. He’d have a lot of schools courting him.

“Oh. Right. Okay.”

“Look, Peter. The point is, you’ve really gotta take your SATs again, and you’ve really gotta fill out at least the general application,” Mr. Garvey said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “You can’t put this off much longer. You’re gonna be somewhere next year. If you don’t decide where soon, the universe is gonna decide for you.”

Coach Morschauser cleared his throat. I knew he was thinking the guy was cracked. That New Agey crap didn’t fly with him. But me? I was feeling as if some huge hand was holding me unsteadily over the mouth of a big black hole.

Next year. I was gonna be somewhere next year. But where? With who? Would I have any friends? Would I ever get to see the guys? My mom? Michelle? And what about Claudia? Would I ever be with Claudia again?

My palms itched with sweat. I felt like I was having a heart attack.

I don’t want to do this, a voice in my head said. I don’t want to do it.

Garvey picked up the stack of brochures, which slid around, and clumsily dropped them in my lap. “Talk to your mom and see what she thinks.”

“Okay,” I said.

But I already knew what she was going to say. She’d approved these schools last night and had started filling out the scholarship applications for a bunch of them. My mom already had me halfway out the door.

The bell rang. At almost the exact same second, my phone beeped with a text. I somehow cradled the brochures in one arm while fishing the phone out of my pocket with my free hand.

“See you on the field!” Coach said, then disappeared.

The text was from Claudia.

MEET @ YOUR LOCKER! I WANT TO HEAR HOW IT WENT!

I swallowed hard. My throat was lined with dread. None of these schools were on Claudia’s list, even though she could get into any of them. I couldn’t even get into the Princeton Bagel Shop. I didn’t reply to the text.

“Thanks, Mr. Garvey,” I said, picking up my backpack and edging out of his cubicle.

“Anytime. Come to me with any questions and have your mom call me too, if she wants to,” he said with a smile, pulling himself closer to his desk.

“I will.”

As I passed the big gray garbage can near the door, I was tempted to toss the whole stack of brochures into it. I knew how much lighter I would feel. How much freer. But I didn’t. Mostly because the secretary and two other guidance counselors were watching me. Instead I shoved my way into the hall, which was already packed with people.