Page 16 of Secrets That Bind Us

“Yes, but, the praise you’ve gotten from the editor of the magazine – she emailed me to tell you they host a Creative Writing summer camp in New York.

It’s a thousand dollars for eight weeks.

That covers your plane ticket to and from, food, shelter, and the program.

You’d be staying by the NYU campus, have a counselor there to guide you throughout New York – not just the tourist attractions.

You’ll go to Salem, Boston – you’ll be going to other places, touring other college campuses. ”

“Mrs. B, I don’t think I could do that. My mom needs me here. She- what if she- my dad-“ My baby stumbles over her words, trying to find an excuse.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m crossing a line here, but I think your mother would want better for you all summer long than to find her in certain situations, Verity.

I really believe your mother wants a better life for you – and sometimes that means having to do what’s best for you – even if it means having to be selfish every once in a while.

There is a whole other world outside of this farming town just waiting for you to explore it. ”

Damn straight. Even I want this for her.

I hear Verity’s sharp inhale. “Mrs. Bryant, I-“

“Entries to the camp begin in late February. I know that a thousand dollars is a lot to come up with in just eight weeks, especially for a sixteen-year-old. I shouldn’t say this as your teacher– and it’s extremely unprofessional of me, not to mention I’m crossing so many lines here– but I want to see you succeed , Verity.

You have what it takes to make it far. I know you’ll graduate valedictorian.

But this could be the shove you need – to meet like-minded individuals and network as well.

Creative minds need stimulation, and you won’t find that here .

So, as long as you don’t tell anyone, come up with as much as you can, and I’ll pay the rest. My husband has already agreed to help with this expense.

I want you to get out of this town– away from your father.

I want you to experience life , Verity. A better life than you’ve been given. ”

Oh, she said the magic word. Experience .

“All you have to do is submit a new short story to me, I’ll submit it to the program’s director. Once you’ve been approved, and the camp submissions begin, we’ll work on getting you in. Together .”

“Can I… can I think about it?”

“Don’t wait too long.” The tardy bell rings. “Here, I’ll write you a slip.”

I slip away, late for my own class, but I don’t care. I already know what I have to do. Because as much as Mrs. B wants Verity to succeed, I want it more for my girl. I want it more than my own success. I want it even if it means losing her for a little while.

For the next few weeks, I don’t even try to disturb her. But I watch. I’m always watching. Her head is always down in class, her textbook up to hide that she’s writing in her notebook, and she’s tutoring more than ever now that there’s only twelve weeks of school left.

I almost laugh when I catch Will going into the library to meet her.

I stop him, give him an extra fifty so he can give it to her as a tip.

I do this every Thursday when he goes to see her.

I’ll help my uncle strip every fucking car that comes into the shop if it means she can go to that writing program.

I’d strip every star in the Texas sky and sell each one if I have to if it means all her wishes come true.

Mid-February, she stays after class to talk to Mrs. Bryant.

She’s in her favorite hoodie and ripped skinny jeans.

Her book bag is hanging at her side. The strap is slung over her body between her plump breasts, and my dick strains in my jeans imagining it caught between them instead.

God, the tits on this girl. The body. The eyes…

“Mrs. Bryant? I have it ready. I just need you to edit it for me. Except, I want to know if… if I later on decide to write this into a novel, it won’t be classified as plagiarism?”

“You… you wrote a novel?”

“Yeah… I mean, kind of? This is essentially the summarized version of the first book, and it leaves off on a cliffhanger.”

“You’re writing a series .” Mrs. B says nonchalantly, but there’s an undertone of excitement and surprise in her voice. “Leaving them on a cliffhanger is cruel… but it’ll leave them wanting more. I like it. I think it’s a great idea.” I can hear the smile in Mrs. B’s voice.

That’s my girl. Always keeping people on their toes.

“There’s also something else I want to talk to you about…”

I leave, making it to my next class, pride surging in my chest– but also… this makes my stomach hurt. I shouldn’t be worried. I’ll be at football camp for the last six weeks of summer. I shouldn’t be worried.

Should I?

I shouldn’t.

So then why does it feel like I’m saying goodbye?

Because on the first day of school of our junior year, when she steps through the double doors of the cafeteria – gone is my girl.

Gone are the loose jeans, the oversized hoodie, and the hair bun.

No, she shows up in a sundress, her hair in those loose curls I love, and makeup that accentuates her eyes.

Eyes that used to look at me like I was the incredible one.

Somehow, it kills me that everyone is seeing the version of Verity she reserved for just me.

I can’t fucking handle it.

I need to talk to her.

I hype myself up to talk to her, but every time I even try to get near her, it’s like she vanishes. All I catch are glimpses of her in the halls, catching up with her friends.

And after school? When I try to catch up to her before practice– because we only have AP English together and she sits as far away as she can from me- I watch, as she strides through the library doors, hips swaying with a confidence that looks so fucking good on her, and walks straight to some asshole in ripped jeans, a tight black V-neck, hair styled in a douchey greaser haircut, sitting on a Harley Davidson cruiser, handing my girl a fucking helmet right before kissing her.

And they ride off into the fucking sunset.

What the fuck just happened?