Clever Girl

Chapter 41: "Stand up and take charge"

Love isn't something I've ever taken lightly. I love my parents, and I love Matty, but I have never truly believed in romantic love. Or I've never understood it enough to believe in it. It's like a complicated equation. There are variables and constants, symbols and operators. There are conditional expressions and powers that I don't have the capacity to comprehend. Why devote your heart to someone who can easily break it into a million super sharp pieces that scar every inch of you?

How can Jay be in love with me? How can you deny someone else's feelings, Veronica? Just because you can't wrap your head around it doesn't mean it's not real. 

It's four-thirty in the morning and I'm wide awake. 

His words keep playing over and over again in my mind - his handsome face annoying me with every loop. Whenever the loop starts again, I'm hit with the pain I felt before calling Will. Was it an anxiety attack? Was it fear? Maybe you're in love with Will. No, that's not it. It can't be. Maybe it's a desperate need for an escape - from this day, this year, this clouded reality I've created for myself. Whatever it was, I know it's happened before, and each time it's worse. 

After my conversation with Will had ended, I had left a voicemail for Dr. Manning, hoping to get an appointment for my mother as soon as possible. Her skin is ghost-like and gaunt, and my heart breaks every time I look at her. I try to appear upbeat, but I know she must see the sadness in my eyes. Matty barely remains in the same room as her. Once I found him crying in the corner of his room. When I asked what was wrong, he simply said 'It's mom', and I didn't press any further. 

These thoughts swim in my mind, stormy and dark, drowning me. Every once in a while my throat dries up and I know I'm about to cry, but I catch myself and force the tears away.

It's now five-am. 

Why am I such a worthless mess?

What if I close my eyes and dare them to stay closed forever?

Stop it, Veronica. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. 

Six-am and I'm now going through our finances for the billionth time this month. It may have taken me a while to get here, but now I know that whomever donated the money for my mother's medical bills gave us a miracle. Does the person realize just how much they helped us - helped remove the giant boulder of expenses that we could no longer hold up? My mind had been so closed by resentment and dread before, that I hadn't stopped to think what it could mean.  I was selfish, stupid, and wrong. 

I can spend a thousand days thanking them in a thousand different ways. 

***

About ten minutes ago I was called into Cranston's office, and though I was glad to leave World History early, I'm not glad to be sitting here again. I spend more time in here these days than I do in any classroom, staring at the plaques and pictures on the walls, cowering as their purpose generates a rather claustrophobic environment. When he walks in, I sink into my seat, my shoulders nearly level with the back of the chair. 

"Miss Boniadi, I am very glad to see you. I've called this meeting for two reasons. First, I wanted to see if you have made any decisions for which college you'd like to attend. You don't have to tell me which, I'm only curious. Second, several notable alumni have reached out to us after the video of you went viral. They'd like to make sizable donations to Apollo, but only on the condition you make an appearance at a fundraiser they're holding. It's a rather unusual ask - but these donations could really help the school."

If this was earlier in the year, I would've leapt out of my seat and protested. I would've probably spoken rudely, rolled my eyes, stormed out, or displayed some other obnoxious reaction. But now, I'm too exhausted for outbursts. "Sure. Why not. Where and when?"