Page 36 of Wherever You Are

The plan had always been to leave the mall in Garrison’s car, but not…this soon. Not like this. I struggle with my seatbelt, unable to find the hole for the metal tip.

“Here.” Garrison stretches over the middle console and helps, his hand on my hand. My nerves flutter. He guides the buckle, and I hear theclick.

Secured.

Garrison places my backpack on my lap, and I hug the jean fabric to my chest. He pauses before starting the car. I feel him studying my features.

I replay what happened, and I go numb. My skin tingles as I try to submerge emotion like my mom taught me to do.Don’t let it out for other people to see. Bottle every last bit.

He breaks the silence. “Did they touch you?”

I shake my head, the motion heavy. “Just my glasses.” I swallow again. “I’m fine.”It could’ve been worse.Partly, I think I’m in shock, throttled by the “could’ve beens” and the regret of not trusting my gut.

Garrison lets out a tense breath, his keys jangling like he’s about to start up the ignition. He stops short. “What can I do to help?”

I open my mouth to speak, but I have no clue what to say.

“Will holding you make you feel worse or better?”

I shake my head again. Unsure. “I don’t know.” Tears threaten to rise, overwhelmed by everything: what happened, this moment, how nice he’s being to me.

“You know I’m here for you,” he tells me.

I nod and instinctively try to push up my glasses—which do not exist right now. “Thanks.” We make a game plan to fetch my spare glasses at my place in Philly, and then we’ll head to his house. I assure him that I’m not too shaken and that I still want to hang out.

He acts like his birthday means nothing to him, but he once mentioned that all his birthdays were spent with lots of friends. I imagine the crowds resembled the ones at Nathan’s party—the one I crashed on my search for Lo.

Now Garrison is down to just one friend. Me. He has no extravagant party. No adoring crowds. He just has Willow Moore from Maine, and I hoped this would be a birthday he wishes to remember, not one he craves to forget.

I can’t really replace his old friends, and I worry, in time, he’ll only yearn for them more.

9PRESENT DAY – August

London, England

WILLOW HALE

Age 21

“What’d you say?!” I try to yell over the thumping bass, a phone pressed to one ear while I plug the other ear with my finger.

I still can’t hear my best friend over the flat party. Beer pong cheering, thumps of drunken bodies, and house music cranked to head-splitting levels—I’m in a noisy tunnel of collegiate pandemonium. Who throws ragers on a Wednesday at seven p.m.?

My roommates, apparently.

A little earlier, Sheetal popped her head in my room. “We’re having a proper get-together, like. Need anything, a bevvie or a ciggy?” The party was already underway.

It was nice of her to remember that I’m here. I’m not invisible to my friends-turned-new-roommates: Sheetal, Tess, and Salvatore.

But I would’ve preferred an hour’s notice, and if I’m being really honest with myself, I would’ve wanted a full day’s preparation knowing we’re hosting ahouseparty.

After declining drinks and cigarettes, I keep thinking it’ll die down, but it’s only grown. I keep hearing the main door open. More bodies piling in. More voices amassing.

“Hold on a sec!” I raise my voice over the music and speak into my phone. “I’m gonna find a quieter spot, Daisy!” I scan the small room, more cramped than my old dorm. A light blue comforter is wrinkled on a twin-sized bed, hugged against a white wall.

Most of my crap is still in a few cardboard boxes. But I’ve had some time to tack up a few X-Men posters and unbox photos of my brothers, the Calloway sisters, and of course, my boyfriend. I did put myGravity FallsFunko Pop! collectibles on the dresser. No room for a desk.

Still, I’m lucky that I have all this space to myself, and I only share a bathroom and common area.