Free The Truth About Letting Go by Leigh Talbert Moore

dad.”
    “It’s not the same. Colt’s a separate person. And they have the same interests, he runs. It was like… I thought he might be an angel or something.”
    Charlotte bursts into a tittering laugh. “From what I’ve heard, that boy is no angel.”
    I nod, looking down, feeling stupid. “I know. And I don’t even believe in that.”
    “But he doesn’t look like your dad to me. He looks like… trouble.”
    There it is. She said it, too. I’m still looking down as my eyelids automatically press together. I know where this is headed, and I know I’m not going to stop it. I’m going to be with Colt. And it’s not going to be angelic or good or anything to do with my dad, and I’m not going to care who gets hurt.
    “I’m sorry about Jordan and me,” I say, to both of us.
    “It’s okay, I guess. I’m proud of him for actually asking you.”
    My eyes flicker to hers. “Why?”
    “Well, you’ve never been very approachable.” She glances sideways at me. “I mean, before now. Before your dad died. Jordan’s braver than I thought.”
    I nod. It’s true. He is brave. About a lot of things.
    I've got to stop thinking about him like that. “You approached me,” I say.
    “I saw you were having a weak moment.”
    “You see a lot of things.”
    I wonder what she’d see in my future. If it would be the same thing I see. I wonder if it would scare her, too.

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    My cheerleader uniform is hanging by itself in the back of my closet. It’s Friday, the last home game, and standing alone in the large space staring at it, the memory of my old life is so close. It’s on the edges of my skin. I hold my breath, and I can almost feel it, that comfortable routine of pulling on the scratchy polyester, brushing my hair into a smooth, high ponytail, and then going through my day in that privileged, insulated bubble. Coming home and Dad’s here, working or waiting for me to help him try some new project.
    I feel hazy as I take it off the hanger. I’m not on the squad, but I doubt Coach Taylor will order me to go home and change. I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t care if she did. My eyes close as I slide the thick uniform top and skirt over my body in the most familiar way. I don’t do the ponytail, but I do brush my hair into smooth submission. When I open my eyes, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, for the first time since spring break, I look like the old Ashley.
    It’s a lie. That girl is gone.
     
    * * *
     
    Mandy glances at me when I climb into her car. “I’m sure Coach T would let you back on the squad if you asked her. It’s understandable to have a transition period after you… you know.”
    I don’t want to talk about it. Now I’m regretting even putting this stupid thing on. What was I thinking? I told Jordan not to make a big deal of it, and here I am wearing the stupid thing. I’ve been working so hard not to be this person, and then in a moment of temporary insanity, I dive right back into the costume.
    Like it’s going to change anything. Like it’s going to bring anybody back.
    “All my jeans were dirty,” I say, and look away, out the window. She doesn’t push it.
    My transformation doesn’t completely register until I see Jordan at our lockers. He’s wearing the cords he bought and that blue shirt, and I notice his hair, thick and glossy. He looks so good. I do not touch him.
    I stop in front of my metal door, and his ears go all pink when he looks up at me. I’m not sure how I feel about him responding to me that way, like he wants to touch me, too. I ignore the flutter in my stomach. Pointless flutter.
    “You picking me up tonight?” I ask.
    “Oh. Yeah, right.” He looks away quickly, fumbling to shove some books into his ground-level locker. “It’s weird they planned it on a game night.”
    “This year’s class just has to be different,” I say through a sigh, twirling the dial on my lock. Jordan stands and slouches against the metal door