Beautifully Ruined (24 page)

Speaking of
adorable status
, Hilary and Patrick are sickeningly sweet. They’re so cute together; it makes me want to douse them in water half the time. They’re talking about living together. Hilary even sat me down to ask me about it.

“I just don’t want to spring anything on you, Joey,” she said. Patrick was sitting in the kitchen, eavesdropping, no doubt.

“I love Patrick.” That’s the truth. He was the best thing ever to happen to Hilary within the last five years. He doesn’t treat her like crap, he doesn’t treat me as if I’m a piece of furniture, and he lets me call him McDreamy. What’s not to like about the man?

I’m just waiting for him to pop the question.

Is it too soon for that?

I don’t care. He should put a ring on it and finally join our family to start a few new traditions. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind more cake. Just saying.

Ambrielle called, to inform me I had a month until my special appeared.
Crap
. I thought I’d have more time to prepare myself. Soon, I started seeing commercials for it. I started seeing my face staring at me through the television screen.
Do I really look like that?
crossed my mind more than I’d like to admit, but it was still happening. Vanity wouldn’t change this.

Other people began to stop me in the hall to tell me they saw the promo. Some would stop me at the grocery store to
bless my heart
. Others would stop me at various other places just to let me know they saw it and were waiting to watch it. Most of them, I’m sure, didn’t really care about it or me, they only wanted
me
to know they were taking time out of their
precious
schedules
to watch my story, but the rest had genuine curiosity and concern etched on their faces as they spoke to me. It was still odd to know that my life was soon to be broadcast to an entire nation.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is going to be on television.” Zephyr plops down next to me on the couch, squeezing my arm before pressing his lips against my heated cheek. I’ve been blushing since I stepped through the door. He’s been bragging about this since I told him Ambrielle called me, gushing since he saw the first promo, and talking non-stop for the past week, literally counting down the days.
Only three days, Joey! Are you excited?
He nearly got a fist to the gut with every annoying reminder, but I love him too much to hit him.

Hard, anyway.

“Shut up,” I tell him, playfully shoving against him with little force. He grabs my hand and threads our fingers together, his comforting touch the one thing I desire in this moment.

My blush lessens but I’m still flushed and nervous.

We’re sitting in my living room surrounded by our families. Jamie’s talking to her mother while her father steals more olives from the plate on the table—yes, this is a moment that requires finger foods in Patrick’s opinion. Even Patrick’s here. Harley wanted to watch it over here, same with my other friends, but I quickly killed that idea.

Jamie walks over and sits in front of me, her back leaning against the couch. “This is going to be fantastic.” She turns to face me.

“You didn’t say anything horrible about me did you?” Hilary asks from the kitchen table.

I look to her. “What would I have said?” I ask. She starts laughing. I force one. I’m one panic attack away from canceling this thing, sending everyone home, and barricading myself in my room as the thing plays on televisions across the country.

Molly, Zephyr’s mom, grabs the bowl of popcorn—one of five—from the coffee table and settles it in her lap as she readies herself in the recliner.

From the looks of everything, you’d think we’re having a movie night.

Not quite.

“I told Aidan about this yesterday,” Molly announces matter-of-factly from her seat. “He’s already seen it.”

Just great
.

Joey, you’ve already lost your chance to pull the plug on this
, I tell—more like shout—at myself.
Just suck it up
.
How bad can this be?

“Darn that time difference.” Antonios snaps his fingers while someone turns up the volume on the ending laundry detergent commercial.

The front door bangs open, Milo rushing into the room. His pale blonde hair is wet, clinging to his features as he looks around the room. “Did I miss it?” He shouts to the room.

Zephyr chuckles next to me. “No, it’s about to start.”

Mel and Candace walk in behind him, shaking the rain from their hair.

“
Geez Louise
, there’s a storm out there,” Mel exclaims as she shrugs her gray jacket from her shoulders. “Thanks for the invite, Joey.” Mel plops into the next to me.

“Seriously, thank you,” Candace says to my aunt. Ever since I told Hilary that I have family, she’s taken the opportunity to get to know Candace. Of course, they knew each other from Texas—I left that out. They have some form of friendship blooming.

“Not a problem,” my aunt replies.

Milo sits next to Jamie on the floor, ready like the rest of us.

The clock strikes eight o’clock.

It’s starting.

“Hush up, people,” Zephyr commands as he pulls me closer to him, leaning me against his side. I tuck my shoulder beneath his arm and rest my head on his shoulder allowing for his hand to pull through my hair, sifting through my curls.

The butterflies fight and flutter through my stomach so fast, I think they’ve evolved into pterodactyls.

Ominous music plays as a photo of my family—my mom, Ivy, Noah, my father, and me—fill the screen. I can’t be any older than three. A voice over begins a story.

What would you do if everything was taken from you? Your family, your life…
The voice is male and deep. The screen slowly transitions to a picture of me today, smiling wide and happy, my arms around Zephyr and Hilary after the final night of the Idol competition.

I tune out, remembering this bliss, this happiness, and every happy moment I’ve had since I’ve been in Washington. It’s a random time to reflect, but I feel it necessary to move through this episode. The close friends I’ve made, how my family seems to be growing bigger than I thought I’d ever have. My accomplishments. How much I’ve changed. And all of it betters me daily.

Taking a deep breath, I feel I can face this. Nearly all of my embarrassment flees.

Josephine Archembault was only seven years old when that night changed her life forever
. Zephyr’s hand squeezes mine. I squeeze back, turning to look at him. I stare at the side of his face, the stubble sprouting along his jaw, the dark hair curling around his ears. He turns to me and I smile. It’s brief before I turn back to the screen.

It’s going to be okay. I know this.





Things in my life were changing at an alarming rate. Partly because of the interview: people began to look at me differently, snide remarks ceased completely, I even got a few
hellos
in the halls from people I’d never before met. Mostly, I started looking at life differently. I was happier, peppier, even damn near perky at times. I was tired of being the girl who hated everything and everyone, I wanted to be something different, something exciting, something new. I wanted to be new.

And I could do it.

Soon, university replies began to show up in the mailbox.

After debating with my aunt and my friends—who all say to do whatever
I
want to do—and myself, I apply to ten universities; five in Washington, one in Oregon, and two in both Idaho and Montana. If I’m going away to school, if that’s my final decision, I won’t be more than seven hundred miles away. The furthest university is only a ten-hour drive, easily doable in a day with a lot of energy drinks. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

“Aunt Hil!” I screamed as I shoved my way into the house, running through the living room with the seventh letter. “
Aunt Hil!
” I know she’s tired of hearing about these, I notice her forced enthusiasm every time I rip one open, but this time it’s a good one. The University of Oregon, my first choice. I’ve already received acceptance letters from six schools, three in my top five choices, but this was the golden ticket for me. I genuinely feel like Charlie Bucket holding the Wonka Bar. “
AUNT HIL!!!
” I scream up the stairs.

“Sheesh,” I hear faintly from the hall. “Coming, child.” My aunt walks down the stairs. Taking her sweet time, I might add.
Goodness, lady!

“
This is it!
” I squeal, bouncing where I stand. “This is it, this is it, this is it, this is it, this is it…” I keep repeating those three words, staring at the envelope in my hands, contemplating my fate. It isn’t thick, but according to Jamie, who received her acceptance letter a while back, said that didn’t mean much.
It’s not like it is in the movies
, she told me. That gives me hope and dries my mouth.

Hilary tips my hands forward, peering at the letter in my hand. “Open it!” she nearly shouts. She’s as excited as I am about this. I’ve always wanted to be a Duck.

The smile drops from my face, a sense of fear taking over my body. “I can’t,” I whisper, terrified this could be a rejection. They could reject me and Oregon could be a wasted dream. I thrust out my hands, shoving the envelope into her grasp, and cover my eyes, demanding, “You do it.”

I hear the ripping of paper, the crumpling of a single page, and a light
gasp
.

My world falls. Hilary wouldn’t gasp if I got in, she’d congratulate and hug me.

“I knew it. Rejected.” I slump my shoulders and let my head fall forward. I open my eyes and stare at my shoes on the carpet. “Of course, I’m not smart enough.”

“Miss Josephine Archembault, you’re a Duck.”

It takes longer than expected for those words to sink in.
You’re a Duck
. Because, obviously, I heard wrong.

Then it hits me with the force of a Mack truck.

“
Holy balls
. You’re not joking, are you?
I got in!
” I jump up and rush my aunt, throwing my arms around her and tackling her to the ground. Good thing it’s carpeted. “I’m going to college.”

Hilary laughs. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

I stand up and start dancing.

“I got in! I got in!” I sing as I twirl around the room.

A week later, I received three more acceptance letters. One was from my second choice, University of Washington. In reality, it tied Oregon for first based on location. While I wanted to be a Duck, that’s three hundred miles away, UW is only fourteen.

Everyone told me not to make this decision, one of the biggest in my life, based on current things, like boyfriends. Zephyr told me to follow my goals and study wherever I wanted—wherever I’d accomplish the most. He knew I wanted to go to Oregon since we were ten. The only reason being I liked ducks. But after research and deciding what I wanted to do with my life, it became a goal.

But Zephyr will be here.

“I’m so proud of you,” Zephyr tells me, his arms wrapped around me. I just told him, two weeks later, about my acceptance letter. He’s excited, but I can’t share in that. He can tell. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s in Eugene, Zeph,” I confess apologetically.

“What about it?” he asks, peeling his arms from around me to lean back. He leans forward, his hair falling into his eyes.

I shake my head. “That’s far.”
I don’t want to leave you
…

“Don’t start this again, Jo,” he quietly warns. “You’re going to Oregon. Like you’ve always wanted.”

“But—”

Zephyr shakes his head. “I’m not going to be the reason why you change your plans.” His hands run down my arms, his hands clasping mine. “My grades aren’t
terrible
, maybe I can get into Oregon and we can go to school together. I’m not a bad football player, I can hope for a scholarship.”

I swing our hands out, swinging them back and forth. “But what if that isn’t my plan anymore?”

“I agree with any plan you make that doesn’t have you taking the short straw.”

I shake my head, ready to disagree. “I doubt that—”

His lips crash to mine, the surprise shocking me. I rock back, nearly falling, but his arms trap me in place.

That’s the best way to shut me up.





Stepping from the room, I straighten my shirt, smooth down my skirt, and release the biggest sigh of the day. It’s over. The presentation I’ve worked on for the past month, the paper I’ve worked on for most of the year—it’s all over. I’ve just completed my presentation and nothing fills me with more glee and joy than the thought that I can now coast until graduation. Or finals. I think I’ll have to apply myself for finals.

My hands still shake as I place the binders in my backpack, along with my note cards and laptop. Zephyr sits on the bench next to the classroom within which I just presented, leaving shocked freshmen when I finally left the room. I guess they weren’t the ones to see
News Today
.

“Are you happy it’s over?” Zephyr asks as I stand up straight, placing my hands on my lower back and leaning until I stretch out my muscles. His eyes are trained on the door behind me.

I’m not sure what he means. Happy it’s over, as in the presentation. Or happy it’s over, as in school? I’m happy for both, honestly, but I’m the happiest when with him.

For the program at graduation, the little booklet filled with names and plans after graduation, we have to give the office a copy of our acceptance letters as proof before they print. I happily turned in my acceptance letter to University of Washington. I haven’t told Zephyr but he shouldn’t argue with me on the subject. UW has a good political science program, that’s all I truly want.