Page 6

She doesn't mean for the words to hit me directly in the gut. But missing those first few years with her is high on my list of regrets. Not that I had much of a say—collegiate baseball, especially with the pros in mind, is a full-time job. Plus, school didn't always come easy.

But there were definitely times staying away instead of going back to Mage was a choice. One that, at the time, felt like my only option.

Maybe still does.

We continue toward my Range as Vienna tells me about the girl in her class who wears her shoes on the wrong feet every day and doesn't care—or doesn't even notice. She tucks her hair behind her ears, which is how I know she's gearing up to really sell it.

"Every single day," she says, hands flying as she leans into the story. "Even in gym. It's so confusing. I mean… her sneakers light up!"

I stare at her blankly. "Okay…"

She throws her head back. "You can't even see the butterflies turning colors because the lights are stuck between her feet." She looks at me, brows raised, lips parted like she's out of breath.

Knowing she's waiting for my response, I tip my chin up, narrowing my eyes and putting on the best I totally care face I know she's expecting. "Tragic."

She goes on, rambling about the pros and cons of her cafeteria lunch—pizza that was still half-frozen but vanilla ice cream bars with the hard chocolate shell. We've just gotten to my car as her comments about her art room smelling like new crayons and maple syrup wind down, and I see her glance up at me from the corner of my eye.

"You okay?" I ask, peering over.

I open the back door, and she slides in without responding.

But her heavy breath answers for her.

Slipping into the driver's seat, I watch her in the rearview mirror as she settles into her booster and pulls her seatbelt across her chest. I do the same in my seat, waiting.

Catching her movement in the mirror, I start the engine. "What?" I ask, seeing her eyes locked on me.

She turns to look out the window. "Nobody really talks to me."

My grip tightens around the steering wheel, my knuckles turning the same pale shade as V's face.

She doesn't turn to me right away which is how I know she's not asking for a response.

"They just have to get to know you," I eventually reassure her. "It's hard being the new kid."

A memory of my first week at Mage Hollow High flashes through my mind—one I haven't thought about in a long time.

Mr. Jetson? Janski?

Biology class.

That plain brown hair that shouldn't have caught my eye. Taking the long way to my desk just to be closer.

I blink it away as V shakes her head gently. "I don't think that's it," she says, looking at her hands.

"Hey." I reach behind my seat at a stop sign and tap her foot. "Do you want to talk to Mom again? I'll come with you. Maybe we can just get some information."

She swallows hard, gaze dropping to her fingers. She picks at the Piggy Pink polish I know too well considering it's currently painted across my big toe.

Just when I think she's not going to answer—right as I move to lift my foot off the brake—she faces me, expression stoic but eyes glistening. "I'm not broken," she says.

My whole world freezes. My heart rate with it.

A lump gathers in my throat. "You never have been."

Vienna sighs, and I throw the car in park.

She looks confused, but when I turn fully toward her, her shoulders drop in understanding.