Holding On (7 page)

As we rounded the corner to the yearbook room, I tried to pry
my hand
from
his.
Claire
was
my
junior
editor.
She
was
bound
to
be
around somewhere.
We
had managed to avoid her all
day,
but I knew that
we
would get caught if I didn’t find a way to break free. I stopped
walking just short of the classroom and pulled him into the girls’ bathroom. He
was inside before he even realized what was going
on.

“Um, I’m not supposed to be in
here.”          

“I
know
that.
What
is
all
this?”
I
was
holding
our
intertwined hands
up
high
for
him
to
see.
His
only
response
was
a
smile
and
a
quick squeeze of my hand. “Claire could be anywhere around here. Are
you trying to cause a fight between you
guys?”

“No.
She’s
not
here
today.
Her
family
left
last
night
to
go
to
the Bahamas for the
holidays.”

Oh!
So
he
knew
that
we
wouldn’t
get
caught
holding
hands
and
that by the time break was over, everyone would have forgotten what
they
saw.
Genius plan on his part, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. I
pulled my hand from his and shoved it in my pocket. I love this man to
death, but
I
did
not
want
to
be
the
reason
for
a
fight
between
him
and
Claire again.

“Look, I have to get to class. I’ll meet you at my car after school.
We
can go get coffee or something,
okay?”

“Fine,
but
how
do
you
suggest
I
sneak
out
of
here
without
being noticed?”

Fair
point.
He
was
standing
in
a
girls’
bathroom.
Walking
out
into
a hall full of people would not exactly be
easy.
He was just going to
have to wait until the bell
rang.

“I guess you better wait for class to start.” I could feel the smile
on my face growing bigger as I inched closer to the
door.
“I gotta
go.”

I
darted
out
the
door
before
he
could
grab
me
and
make
me
wait
with him. I crossed the threshold of the yearbook room just as the
bell rang for class to start and stopped dead in my tracks. The entire
room was
decorated,
and
there
was
even
a
cake.
I
was
going
to
be
spending
my last hour of my last day eating sugar and hanging out with my
friends. Nothing could be
better.

When the bell finally rang, I hugged each of my classmates
before walking
into
my
office.
I
took
one
look
at
my
desk
and
started
to
cry.
This was it. I created this book, and now it was going to be taken
over by someone else, someone less qualified. I felt like I had when I
found out how bad my shoulder injury was. My heart was
crushed.

Walking
to
my
car,
waving
as
my
friends
sped
out
of
the
lot
past
me, made
me
realize
that
I
made
it.
This
was
a
tough
week.
Saying
good-bye to everyone and telling the story over and over again because
that’s
all people
wanted
to
talk
about
had
completely
drained
me.
Somehow,
I made it through. Even
today,
I made it through as hard as it
was.

Now
I
just
had
to
get
through
the
holidays.
Christmas
use
to
be my favorite time of year before my parents split. The people who
say
that the holidays are better after your parents get divorced because
you get twice the presents obviously are not from divorced parents.
Being a child of divorce during the holidays just makes things more
stressful,
and
my
stress
level
was
code
red
already.
I
didn’t
need
any
more
stress.

Two
more
weeks.
That
was
all
I
was
going
to
get.
Two
more
weeks
of
normalcy
with
my
friends
that
I
had
known
since
I
moved
here
in middle
school.
Two
more
weeks
with
the
best
friend
I
have
ever
had, who was currently leaning against my car waiting for
me.

It
went
by
fast.
Before
I
could
really
comprehend
what
was
happening, I
was
walking
in
Ella
and
Emma’s
front
door
as
their
parents
were walking out. New
Year’s
Eve! The end of one thing and the
beginning of another. How fitting to my situation. I had spent the last two
weeks of
break
packing
up
my
entire
life,
and
today
I
spent
loading
it
into
a U-Haul truck.  
We
were leaving bright and early in the morning, and
I was expected home at a “decent hour” to make sure that I got plenty
of rest for the
drive.

Yes,
I
was
driving
across
the
country.
You
can
only
hook
up
one
car to
a
U-Haul,
so
when
I
refused
to
sell
my
car,
I
was
told
that
I
would
have
to
drive
it
out.
The
only
highlight
was
that
I
didn’t
have
to
be
stuck
with
my
mom
for
the
entire
ride.
I
was
still
barely
on
speaking
terms with
her.
The
longest
conversation
I’d
had
with
her
since
she
told
me we were moving was at Christmas dinner with my grandparents. I
was
doing
my
best
to
be
social
and
somewhat
civil.
I
realized
about
halfway through
dinner
that
I
should
probably
just
stop
talking
by
the
looks
I
was
receiving from my grandparents.
Let’s
just say that they were less
than enthusiastic about some of my comments. Grandpa actually poked
me in the elbow with his fork
twice.

As
the
rest
of
my
friends
started
to
arrive,
I
got
restless.
I
knew
that this was the last time I was going to see most of them, at least for
quite a while. I planned on coming back for the summer and staying with
my dad for a couple of weeks, but things
change.

People
change.
Friendships
are
hard
enough
when
you
see
each other
every
day,
let
alone
when
you
live
1,905.6
miles
apart.
I
wasn’t going
to
hold
it
against
anyone
if
our
friendship
died
out—anyone, except Brad, that is, who had yet to show his face at the
party.