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“No. Tell me. I promise I’m not judging you. Nothing is standing out to me, but maybe you saw something I missed.”
“Okay. I thought there was an explosion. Maybe green sparks.”
“The fireworks?”
“I don’t think so. I remember the boat rocking really violently and then everything went black.”
“The fireworks were pretty loud. But there was a rogue wave which rocked the boat pretty badly. You fell and bumped your head. I brought you home after that.”
“Did we fall into the water?”
“Umm…no.”
“But…I swear I was wet. I guess bumping my head would explain the headache I woke up with.”
“Maybe you got splashed a little. Do you still have a headache now? Shit, I didn’t even think about you possibly having a concussion. Do you want to get it checked out?” He’s already half out of his seat and his concern is endearing. I shake my head and hold up a hand to stop him.
“I’m fine. Apart from this little cut and an ache on my chest like a seatbelt burn.”
“Thatisodd. Maybe you hit your chest when you fell. I’m sorry, it all happened so fast, I don’t really recall. Sorry. I’m not being much help am I?”
There’s something unreadable on his face. Guilt maybe? I don’t know why he’d feel guilty. It’s not his fault I fell and got hurt.
I give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you. You’ve actually been a big help. I must have had some weird dreams after you dropped me off last night. I probably sound crazy.”
“Don’t be silly. Not at all. I’m glad you remembered that we had a really good time and that yourweird dreamhasn’t put you off seeing me again.”
“Not at all,” I tell him, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach that says something isn’t quite adding up.
Shut up, Malia. You’re just crazy, remember?
The doctor doesn’t seem to think so.
He’s paid to tell you that. Tell Cove you heard voices threatening to kill everyone and see what he really thinks of you then.
I give Cove a tight smile and finish my hot chocolate as he makes his sudden, hurried excuses to leave.
Tumbleweed.
It’s another week of attending classes where the professor resolutely ignores me before Bhodi broaches the subject of going on a date again. I don’t know if he was joking about our first trip to the lake being a date or not, but when he asks me if I want to go there again, to swim this time, I’m embarrassingly eager.
Cove’s been distant. Or busy. I don’t know. Something hasn’t felt right since we talked about our date in the coffee shop. I think my crazy questions scared him off, but I can’t shake the feeling that he was…not lying exactly, but at least withholding something from me. Something important. And even though he still texts and sends me songs to listen to almost every day, there’s been no video calls, no online dates, and certainly no face-to-face contact.
It hurts. I miss him. If it weren’t for Bhodi turning up and dragging me to class, I’d be so lonely. Even Summer only shows up to dispense my meds now. She’s always busy with her boyfriends. If I mention us hanging out, she immediately wants to drag me out to meet them, and I don’t want that.
Going on a date with Bhodi isn’t a consolation prize for Cove being gone. I like him just as much as Cove, and if anything, Cove pulling away makes my decision a little easier. I would hate to have to choose between the two of them, and now it would seem that I don’t have to, because Cove has taken himself out of the running, tumbleweed style.
Bhodi nudges me in the side, and I return my attention to the lecture. ‘How You Remind Me’ by Nickleback is playing in my ears and hastily shut it off. The professor is handing back assignments, and my breath hitches when he passes me and drops the paper onto the desk before me.
“Well done, Miss Van der Zee.”
I wait for the other shoe to drop; for some barbed comment or cutting look to follow, but the professor has already moved on without a backward glance.
“Well done,” Bhodi whispers, nudging me again.
“Huh?” I blink and look down at the essay I wrote last week, the highest possible grade unmistakeable at the top, circled in red pen. I skim through the comments dotting the body of my work but everything seems positive. At the end of the conclusion there’s a succinct note about how well researched and argued my thesis is, with advice to check out additional theory by a critic I’ve never heard of, which is actually helpful.
This can’t be real. It has to be a joke or something. He’s fucking with me…right? I’m going to get ready to leave and he’ll ask me to stay behind again, tell me there was a mistake and give me a copy of my essay which is graded as a fail.
