Page 48 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

TWENTY-TWO

WHO WILL BE EVEN LEFT TO TELL?

Blowing Smoke by Gracie Abrams & Different Kind of Pain by Sam Barber

Nellie

“What happened to you?” Bella asks as we walk together toward my office.

“Good morning to you too, Bella. Do you think that’s an appropriate question to ask an adult?

” I ask, sliding my sunglasses up to my hair and taking another sip of my coffee.

There’s not enough caffeine to carry me through the day.

I didn’t go to sleep at all last night. First, I was crying, and then, I was mad.

Then, I was crying again. Eventually, I started deep-cleaning everything I could find, and before I knew it, it was 6:00 am.

The biggest downside of living with my parents is that they’re nosy, always worrying about everything.

Mom’s concerned, and she said she’ll call Cara today.

I just really wish she wouldn’t. What am I going to say?

It’s not like I can share with her why I’m so dysregulated.

I just need to make it through this morning, and then I can sleep all afternoon.

“Sorry. You look like…you didn’t rest at all.” She’s blushing, and now I feel like an asshole for making her feel embarrassed.

“It’s okay. Thanks for your candor. I am tired.

I didn’t sleep well last night, but my job is to be here for you, not the other way around.

How are you? Did you think about our conversation the other day?

” I ask, stopping by my office, unlocking and propping the door open.

I walk in and stay near the door, per school safety regulations, but leaving enough space that any other kid can walk in and grab a snack if needed.

“I needed a day to think it through, but I think I’m talking to them today. I help at my mom’s store today, so we’ll have time to chat, and then Dad takes us out to dinner on Thursdays, so that works too.”

“I’m proud of you. It’ll be great. Keep me posted, yeah?”

“I will,” she replies, turning around and walking out of my office. She disappears into the hallway, mixing in with the other students seamlessly.

Cody walks in as usual, but today, just like yesterday and the day before, his head’s low, and he doesn’t say anything before he gets to the food area.

“Hey, Cody.”

“Hi, Ms. Thompson,” he replies with a hoarse voice. This is a little concerning now. Two days in a row without his usual bright personality.

“How are you, kiddo?” I ask, probing to see if he’d finally open up to me.

“Alive,” he replies as he walks out before I can even process anything.

The bell rings, and I let the door close behind me, walking to my desk and making notes of the interactions with him.

Maybe I need to talk to the district psychologist who visits us weekly and see if there’s anything else we can do.

Or maybe I need to check his cumulative folder and see if there’s any information I don’t know about him.

I don’t like this change, and I don’t like those answers.

That same ominous feeling I’ve had the past few days returns, this time more potent, and again, I can’t put my finger on it.

It feels like when my head is underwater for too long, right before I come up for air.

It’s unclear whether I need to breathe or not but knowing that waiting too long can be fatal.

This feels like that, but without the sensation of when it’s too much or too long or even why.

No water in sight, just the drowning feeling.

I walk to the snack area and grab one of the messages. This one is…odd. Usually, these are silly or sweet, maybe even sad, but this one is just bizarre.

Maybe we’re all walking in hell.

I bring the note to my desk, placing it inside my planner so I can think on it longer before deciding what to do. There’s a knock on my door as soon as I sit down, and at the same time, I get a message. I know it’s Gus.

DLS:

I hope you like it.

Like what, Gus? Like what?

I get up quickly and unlock the door.

“Hi!” I say to our school resource officer, who is holding a small bag on the other side.

“This was left for you in the front office.”

“Thank you.” I take the small white bag and the iced coffee from him and walk back to my desk. I set the coffee on the table, but not before reading the writing on the bag.

Stay out of trouble.

Unbelievable .

I open the bag and, like the other day, there’s another note with a small box.

Hey Trouble,

I can’t seem to figure this out. It feels like I take a step forward and three steps back.

I’m guessing today, you’re not tipsy, but pissed.

I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much last night, and I’m sorry for that.

If it’s any consolation prize, neither did I.

I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks. I miss you, and again, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I broke your trust so badly that even when the truth is there, it’s hard for you to believe.

I’m sorry I did this to us by keeping information from you.

I want to tell you everything, but not like this.

In the meantime, here’s some iced coffee, just how you like it, and a little something that made me think of you.

Con carino,

Your DLS (hoping to be more than this, though)

PS: They have the same thing with diamonds if you prefer. I’m happy to get you another one, but I figured you didn’t want anything flashy.

I open the small box and find a delicate necklace with a small wave pendant in the middle. It’s a beautiful, dainty, white gold necklace with a wave that matches my tattoo. I grab it and turn it around to inspect it. There are letters written on the back: “With The Waves.”

Does he think he’s going to buy me with gifts and coffee?

Does he think he can send me treats and apologies, and I’ll be able to just, what?

Forgive him? He just wants to talk to you.

Damn you, voice in my head. I’m so irritated, I just want to go home.

I look at the clock, and it’s only been thirty minutes since school started. Today’s gonna be a long day.

Sis:

Are you coming to book club tonight?

Cara’s text comes through, and I want to scream as soon as I get it.

I forgot about the damn book club, but I promised her and myself I was going to be more social.

I still don’t have friends here, so I might as well start building stronger relationships with hers.

So much for not living in her shadow anymore.

Me:

Yes. What should I bring?

Sis:

Take an Uber and I’ll drive you home. Natalie’s bringing wine, and since she can’t drink, she says it gives her joy seeing others do so.

Me:

I can’t drink a lot on a school night. Not again, at least.

Sis:

You won’t be able to stop after you taste the first sip. I promise.

Me:

Fine. See you at seven.

We read Bright Side by Kim Holden for book club, and I’m in between being in love and completely heartbroken by it. It’s such a beautiful story in the most heart-wrenching way. I can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts.

The bell rings, announcing the end of the day, and I immediately let out a breath.

I’ve made it another day. Another day, I’ve managed to do this job and hopefully not mess anyone’s life up.

If I hurry and wrap this up quickly, I’ll be able to head home and take a nap in the hopes of appearing more human tonight.

Nobody comes to get a snack or write messages.

I finish gathering my things and walk to the bowl of messages students have left. Today’s reads:

I hope I get to play football this season.

That must be Thomas. He’s a goofy seventh grader who walks around like he owns the school but then sits on the bean bag chair and tells me all about how he wants to make his parents proud and that his dad was a football player.

I’ve been meaning to ask Jake and Nick, Bella’s dad, to give a pep talk to some of the middle schoolers who are not necessarily playing a lot right now and have barely made it through practices.

The one from earlier was on a light green piece of paper. I wonder if there are more. How didn’t I think about it earlier? I could’ve done this a lot sooner, but the fog in my brain from being tired isn’t helping.

I pour the contents of the bowl onto the table and take out all the ones written on the same green paper. There are eight total, two of which have nothing to do with the rest. They’re random thoughts, silly. The rest, though? Same handwriting, same feelings, probably same kid.

Who will believe me if I tell?

If there’s a heaven, who even goes there?

Those were the cards dealt without any luck or grace.

Who will be left to tell?

Stuck in this hole where nothing feels swell.

Stuck in this mess, lost in this space.

Clearly, whoever is writing these feels lost, but is there a reason for these?

Do they seem odd? Sad for sure, but all middle schoolers are sad in one way or another.

I leave all the notes on my desk and write myself a sticky note to make a list of my repeat students, the ones that linger and stay here for longer. Maybe one of them is writing these.

I make a mental note about it as I walk through the hallways, trying to get out of this place. Ben is walking ahead of me, but he catches a glimpse that I’m behind him and smiles at me.

“Any plans today?” Ben asks, pushing the double doors open for me and letting me walk in front of him.

“Actually, yes. I usually just swim after school, but today, I have book club.”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could take you out for dinner once. It doesn’t have to be anything super formal, or even tonight, but wanted to throw it out there. Just two people getting to know each other better over food.”

I fidget with the ring on my thumb as I look down at his feet. Did I misread this situation? Did I somehow miss that he’s trying to ask me out?