Free Losing Track by Trisha Wolfe Page B

caught with speed. At my college.” She diverts her eyes from me. “I wasn’t addicted or anything. I just used when…when I felt extra bad. Like I needed the help.”
    I feel my forehead crease. “So you…put yourself here?”
    She shakes her head. “Nope. My parents did. They’re the type who don’t like dealing with embarrassing issues, and until my transfer for a new school comes through, they don’t want to be burdened.” She makes her own air quotes at this.
    “But wait. You’re not a minor. They can’t force you into treatment, can they?”
    She sighs. “It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that.”
    “Okay.” I give her a quick nod. I get when it’s time to back off.
    As she delves off into her own world, I give her some privacy and crack the journal. I stare at the crisp blank page. And the first thing I see in my mind’s eye is Boone. He was the first person I took note of when I arrived here, and he’s been the one to pull the most emotion from me since.
    Whether it’s good or bad emotion…I guess it still counts.
    Makes sense. He’s so infuriating. He’s the epitome of a recovery junkie. Those walk-the-straight-and-narrow asshats who force everyone around them to either join their occult or listen to their stories until your ears bleed and you off yourself.
    Normally, I’m not this judgmental, and a straightedger like Boone wouldn’t have even registered on my mocking radar—but hell, it’s been a shitty month. Even I need an emotional punching bag once in a while.
    I reach for the pen on the little table beside my bed. Boone might as well be where I start my own story. Or rather, the detour of my story.
    Only as I begin to write, remembering our convo about keeping our secrets from each other, I find myself wishing he could have met Dar. Maybe that’s why I’m so off my game—she’s the other half of me, the part he or anyone else in my future will never meet. There’s nothing I can tell him of myself without her.
    Are you listening, my grudge?
    Do you hear her silence?
    Whispers of thoughts never voiced, failed heart echoed off the void,
    Down into the deep,
    She haunts.
    I stare at the words until they blur and bleed off the page. Then I turn off my bedside lamp and bury my pain so far down, it will take an excavation to unearth it again.
    She’s in the pages now.

Boone
    Tears stain, corrode, and beckon evil sprites
     
    MELODY DIDN’T COME TO guest speaker night. I don’t know why I even noticed, or why she’s on my mind now, other than while being around her, for however short a moment, I’m not thinking about Hunter.
    Even though that comes with its own confusing dose of guilt, I can’t help but crave that brief reprieve. Have one second where the weight of it all isn’t crushing me.
    She’s a distraction.
    An addicting one.
    I trudge down the hall on my way to sign in my volunteer time at Stoney Creek. The heat from outside is seeping in through the walls, the windows, the roof. You can almost smell the blistering sun baking the asphalt outside through the ventilation system. The heat index for today is above 110.
    That alone is why Jose wasn’t too happy about letting me off early so I could get my community service time. Half the guys on the crew were complaining about the heat, asking to either come in hours earlier or later in the day. Not wanting to chance a heat stroke. If he lets me off, he has to do the same for them.
    But I only have so much room for guilt. If this job tanks, I can find another one. Pool boys are a dime a dozen in Florida. I usually go through at least two companies a year.
    At the sign-in counter, Doris smiles. “Boone, you’re just in time for your appointment with Doctor Carly.”
    Shit. I forgot about Jacquie setting this up. She works quick. “Thanks, Miss Doris. How’s the fam?”
    “Fine, just fine.” Her southern accent is thick, and she drawls the words out. “Bryn is graduating this year, and about to drive us all batty