Free Fourteen by C.M. Smith Page B

sniffling the entire way. After making it home in record time, I jumped out of the car, dashed into the house and up the stairs, collapsed onto my bed, and buried my face in my pillow.
    The tears started, the sobs came, and I wrapped my arms around myself in a sad attempt to keep myself together.

    I shouldn’t have walked out. I should’ve stayed and dealt with it. Running away didn’t prove anything and probably only made them all happy that they’d gotten to me.
    I didn’t understand what I’d done this time. The only thing I’d done differently was talk to Evan, and that was mostly because I had to. He’d done the rest and had seemed to truly want a chance to get to know me. Why had I been cut down for what he’d wanted in the first place?
    I sniffled and wiped my cheeks, staring at the wall of my bedroom and curling into the fetal position on my bed.
    I didn’t know what time it was. I didn’t know how long I’d been up in my room. School could’ve been over for hours now, and I wouldn’t have known the difference. Hell, it could’ve been early Saturday morning, and I wouldn’t have realized. The dark sky outside my window told me it was nighttime.
    I sighed heavily when I heard footsteps outside my bedroom door and sucked in a shaky breath, once again wiping off the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt. There was a knock on the door but I didn’t move, figuring my dad had gotten home and wanted to know why I hadn’t bothered to come down or fix dinner for us.
    I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep and hoping that he would just go away when I heard the door open. A few seconds later, I heard it close again, and I sighed, pushing my hair out of my eyes.
    “Anna?”
    I jumped as I heard a voice that clearly did not belong to my dad and turned to face the door. His profile was visible from the streetlights outside my window, and I tensed.
    “What?” I managed to say, my voice rough and my throat raw. “How’d you get in here?”
    “Your father let me in.”
    Huh. He was home. Glad he came up to see if I was all right.
    “What do you want?” I curled up even tighter under my comforter and stared blankly ahead.
    “I wanted to see if you were all right.”
    I looked up when I heard the floorboards creaking underneath his weight as he walked over to me. I kept my eyes on his dark figure as he lowered himself to the floor, resting his arms on the edge of my bed and placing his chin on his hands.
    “I’m fine.”
    “It shows,” he said.
    I stared at him, his face partially hidden in shadows.
    “I would’ve been here earlier,” he said after a few moments of silence, “but coach kept us later for practice because it was a Friday.”
    “Did you have anything to do with it?”
    “No!” he exclaimed. “No . . . ,” he repeated, quieter.
    We once again sat in silence. “Who was it, Evan?” I whispered.
    He sighed heavily and tilted his head to the side. I huffed, closing my eyes as he reached out to rub his thumb over my cheek.
    “Brittany and Grace,” he whispered back.
    “Why?”
    “Because of me.” He pushed his hand back and into my hair, his thumb still stroking my cheek. “I’m sorry, Anna.”
    I closed my eyes when I felt them water again and turned to bury my face back into my pillow. He slid his hand to the back of my head, his fingers still tangled in my hair, and I did my best to keep my emotions under control.
    It was bad enough that he’d caught me in my room, sitting in the dark and moaning over my bad day. It would be even worse if he saw me cry.
    He kept his hand in my hair, gently scratching the back of my head as I did my best to either smother myself or calm myself down. I hadn’t quite figured out which I wanted to do more.
    “What do you say to dinner or something?” he asked after a while.
    I turned my head and his hand fell out of my hair and away from me. I looked over at him through blurry eyes.
    “Is this guilt?” I asked, my voice