Accepted (20 page)

It didn’t take long for the good feelings to wear off and the scary, everyone’s-going-to-hate-me feelings to come on. I could tell Colin saw, or felt, the change in me immediately.

"Hey, hey, hey." He grasped my shoulder and lowered his head to look into my face. "What’s going on? What are you thinking?"

I could see the concern in his eyes and his whole face. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. He rested his chin on the top of my head and held me tight.

I breathed in a deep breath, breathing him in. I was surrounded by him, and it didn’t feel scary. I wasn’t worried; I didn’t feel alone. I felt as far from alone as I had ever felt. I felt good — so good, that I thought maybe I could do this. Maybe this version of my life, where Colin was more than my friend, was better than the life I had been living.

And I thought maybe I didn’t have to be alone.

I felt myself relax, just a little. I turned my head up to Colin and found him looking at me. He smiled a small sort of half-smile that made his face look so kind. His beautiful eyes looked softly into mine, as he leaned his forehead against mine lightly.

"Stop overthinking things, Ashley. Things are going to work out. You just have to let them."

"What about Randi?" I shook my head. "She’s going to hate me, and Amber’s going to be furious." I looked down at my feet. "She won’t choose me. If she has to choose, Amber will choose Randi."

Colin tucked his hand under my chin and lifted my face. I looked into his eyes. "Well, maybe she will, but
I
chose you, Ash. Amber can choose Randi. You have me." He pulled me to him again. "And you have Becca. She won’t take sides, and you’ll have Amber and Randi again. Give them time. Until then, I’ll just have to do."

I could hear the happiness in his voice. I rested my head against him for another minute. Finally, I pulled back, looked up at him, and nodded. "Okay."

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, his expression relieved. He lowered his head to softly brush his lips against mine.

"Good. Now let’s go introduce you to my mom."

"I already met your mom," I protested as I put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me with him toward our dorm.

"Not as my girlfriend, you haven’t." He beamed at me when he said it.

Epilogue

The weeks that followed were the best and worst of my life. I don’t even know how to describe how things could be so good and so bad at the same time.

Randi, predictably, hated me. From the moment Colin and I walked onto our floor, hand in hand, to see his mom, Randi's and my friendship was over.

Just as predictable, Amber was furious — so furious that she decided she couldn’t live with me anymore and ordered me to move out. Every negative feeling of abandonment I told myself wouldn’t get me here came crashing down on me.

In those first few days, I was overwhelmed by the sadness that I was, once again, being let go so easily by people who should have cared more. Even being in Colin’s arms couldn’t erase that initial sadness. And while being with Colin afforded me a level of comfort I wasn’t expecting, losing Amber and the implosion of the carefully crafted college family I’d built myself shook me more than I was expecting.

Losing Randi kind of sucked. Losing Amber was devastating.

Thankfully, I had Colin, but, more importantly — thankfully — I had Becca. Becca, who was terrified of change, who went with the flow, and who didn’t make waves. Becca, who swooped in and saved the day by refusing to live with Randi anymore after watching Randi and Amber gang up on me, and therefore enabling the dorm administrators to authorize a mid-semester room switch—Amber to Randi’s room and Becca to mine.

And while all of that drama and Randi's, and mostly Amber’s, antics would have broken me before, Colin and Becca made it bearable. And after a short while, they made it wonderful.

I had thought those first few weeks in Mikkelsen Hall were the best of my life, but those weeks didn’t include staying up late talking with Becca, hours after we should have been asleep. They didn’t include long runs where I shared more about myself with her than I ever thought was possible. Even better, they didn’t include holding Colin’s hand in class or lingering kisses pressed up against my dorm room door before bed. They certainly didn’t include falling asleep with Colin’s arms wrapped tightly around me the few times Becca went home for the night or the security I felt knowing I was welcome in his home for any holiday or school break.

And while those first few weeks included feeling like I belonged for the first time in my life, they didn’t include feeling loved.

But those last few
did
. And that was the best feeling I’d ever known.

About the Author

Coleen
writes young adult novels, loves running, rock music, the shore, gerber daisies and bread.

When Coleen's not plotting or writing her next book, she can be found making sandwiches in her family's restaurant, running (and often walking) Disney marathons, reading any book she can get her hands on and playing with her adorable kid. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, daughter, two dogs and lizard.

Also from Astraea Press

Chapter One

September 1985

When my mother talked about Lori, she always got a funny look in her eye — not ha-ha funny but strange funny. When I was little, I never understood. As I got older, I wondered more about Lori, but I hardly ever asked because it just seemed to make my mother sad.

Lori was locked away in my mother's past life like the things in the old attic trunk. I wondered about them too. But Mom would always say when I asked her to open the trunk that the past was best forgotten. Yet, every now and then, I would say something or do something that made her sigh deeply and exclaim: "You remind me so much of Lori!"

Not long ago, I was sitting on the living room couch reading a novel I found on the bookshelf. My mother walked into the room and gasped.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

She stared at me for a moment and shook her head. "No, but for a moment, it seemed like I was looking at Lori. I remember when she read
Rebecca
. She loved to read old-fashioned romances."

"Mom, what happened to Lori?"

I'd been to one or two family gatherings but never remember anyone mentioning Lori, Mom's younger sister. She also had a brother named Craig who lived in Portland, but that was all the family she had as far as I knew. I’d only met my relatives from Oregon once.

"Danna, I'd rather not talk about her. It only brings back sad memories."

"Sure, except I didn't bring it up."

"Just don't you read too many of those foolish books and go around confusing them for real life. And don't think too much about boys. You’re still very young."

Now I was really confused. "What exactly did Lori do?"

My mother didn't answer. I could see it was hurting her to discuss her sister. Still, I couldn't help wondering. Mom had a sister who my parents never talked about. How totally weird was that?

I thought about asking my stepfather about her, but we hardly ever spoke, at least not in the way that people in a family are supposed to communicate. In our house, silence was the rule rather than the exception.

My real dad was killed in Vietnam serving in the army. My mother and he were already married and she was pregnant when he was sent overseas. I know she loved him very much. That’s another thing we don’t ever talk about.

My stepdad married Mom when I was two. He’d been a friend of my real father in the military. They’d served together in Vietnam. Mom says Mike, my stepdad, was charming and loving. But you'd never know that now. He's withdrawn and moody. And I know he has nightmares. The walls aren't thin, but sometimes I hear him screaming in the night. I don't know what happened to him overseas because he never talks about it, but I think it must have been terrible. I often wish he would say more to me than "Pass the ketchup," but that's the way he is.

I’m not supposed to know, but my stepdad had a drug problem. I think that’s what caused him to be involved in the auto accident that crippled him. Like I said, there’s a whole lot we don’t talk about at my house.

Lots of the time, I think my stepdad doesn't love me — in fact, doesn’t even like me. When I told Mom, she insisted I was wrong. She said he was troubled about things and the way he acts has nothing to do with me. I’m not sure I believe her. I think when you grow up without any brothers or sisters you become more aware of the feelings of grown-ups. Sometimes, I think I've never really been a kid at all, just a miniature adult.

Joyce thinks that about herself too. She's my best friend — really my only friend. She and I have been close since first grade, ever since the time a bully grabbed her glasses in the playground and tried to break them. I've always hated injustice. So I went up and kicked him as hard as I could in the shins. When he dropped Joyce's glasses, she snatched them up and we both ran. He kept chasing us, threatening to wipe us off the face of the earth. We finally managed to outrun him. Then we collapsed breathless and laughing with the satisfaction of our power to prevail. It was the start of a great friendship.

Most people don't like Joyce because she's such a brain. I think a lot of kids are jealous and some, particularly boys, are intimidated by her intellect. They don't like me either because I'm shy, quiet, reserved, and not very outgoing.

I guess I'm sensitive and my feelings hurt too easily. I don't confide in people because I don't trust them very much. Maybe I'm more like my stepdad than I’d like to admit, withdrawn and uncommunicative. Or maybe it's because I've grown up surrounded by secrets and I've always known that some of those secrets were connected with me.

Things began to change in my life when I entered my sophomore year of high school. That's when boys really started to matter and when I realized geometry was not going to be my best subject. Normally, people do not associate geometry with boys, but when I turned fifteen, many unlikely things became associated with boys in my mind.

Joyce offered to tutor me in math, except she really becomes impatient when people don't understand things as fast as she does. So I turned her down. Besides, she was already taking Algebra II and Trig, so why bother her? I asked my math teacher how to apply for a tutor and she gave me the name of the teacher in charge of the National Honor Society. Joyce went with me after school, although she was annoyed.

"I could help you, Dani. I don't know why you want an outsider. I mean, what's a little geometry between friends?" The sunlight caught her coppery hair and made it look like a freshly-minted penny as we walked down the corridor and past a row of windows.

"You know how irritated you get when you have to explain things more than once. Geometry just isn't my kind of subject. Besides, I respond better to the authority of strangers. I know we'll just get into an argument if you try to tutor me. It might ruin our friendship."

She shook her head. "I think you're wrong, but I bow before your superior wisdom."

I ignored her sarcasm. "You've got a pretty heavy program, don't you? All those honors classes, you must have tons of homework."

Joyce sighed. She took off her brown-frame glasses and rubbed the spots on either side of her nose that had reddened from the supports. "Disgustingly true."

We had arrived at the door to Mr. Galrick's classroom. I started to open it, but just as I did, the door swung out catching me off balance. I jerked backward to avoid being hit harder by the door, and all my books fell to the floor. Two boys came barreling through the door. The first was tall, broad-shouldered and drop-dead gorgeous. He had the most devastating blue eyes which looked into mine and then darted away. I felt my cheeks flush as I stared at him. His sand-colored hair was cut short and streaked with gold. He was one magnificent hunk. The second boy bumped into me. He was huge in both directions and almost fell over my books as I stooped to retrieve them.

"Hey!" the Incredible Hulk shouted in a menacing voice, "why don't you look where you're going? You girls think you own the place, don’t you?"

Joyce and I exchanged surprised looks. "Listen, bozo," Joyce said pointing her finger toward his massive chest for emphasis. "You bumped into my friend. You owe her an apology!"

The good-looking guy didn't say a word; he just walked past with what seemed to be a superior, preoccupied look. His hulking friend sneered and walked away too.

Joyce got down and helped me put my stuff together. "I really hate those jocks!"

"How do you know they were jocks?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? Wasn’t it obvious? Anyway, I've seen that no-neck on the football field. And the handsome Adonis is our adored quarterback, Gar Hansen. Everyone knows who he is."

I didn’t, but then I wasn’t into sports. "He is something, isn't he? Too bad he’s got attitude." I let a deep sigh escape.