Unwritten scars

Chapter 6: Things She Doesn't Say

"What happened?" Maverick asked again, quieter this time.

"Nothing. I just zoned out in there. It's stupid."

I shrugged, or at least tried to. My hands were still shaking a little.

Goody noticed. Of course she did. She looked at me like she was trying to decide whether to ask again when her phone suddenly started ringing.

She looked at the screen and groaned. "My mom." Then she looked at me. "She'll call me like nine more times if I don't answer."

"Go."

"This isn't over," she said, pointing at me.

"It's fine. Go."

She gave me one last look before walking a few steps away. "Mom, hi. Can I call you back? I'm kind of—" Her voice faded as she moved farther away.

Which left me and Maverick just us.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. He didn't stare at me or start asking questions. He just stood there.

Then he said, "That lecture really did a number on you."

I looked at him.

"Cursed room," he added. "I'm telling you, nobody survives that place."

I almost smiled. "You've got to be kidding."

"I'm serious. I once fell asleep during a video about neurons."

I stared at him. "You fell asleep during class?"

"Yeah. I woke up drooling."

I laughed before I could stop myself. "That's disgusting."

"It was horrible. People still talk about it."

He smiled, and for a second, it was easy again.

Then his voice changed a little. "You don't have to tell me what happened, by the way. Whatever that was back there." He shrugged. "Everybody's got stuff they don't talk about. I've got mine too."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. He didn't seem bothered. He just nodded once and left it alone.

"I should go," I said after a while.

"Yeah." He smiled. "Feel better, Miley."

I nodded and walked away. I didn't look back. I wasn't sure what was going on with my face, and I didn't want him to see it.

By the time I got back to the dorm, I just wanted quiet. No people. No questions. Just my bed and maybe twenty minutes of pretending today hadn't happened.

Apparently, that was too much to ask.

My door was already half open when I got there. Music was playing inside, and I could hear one of my roommates laughing.

I pushed the door open. Then I stopped.

My box was on her bed. The small wooden one I kept on my shelf. The one nobody was supposed to touch.

It was open. My roommate was holding something from inside it, showing it to her friend.

A photograph.

I knew it immediately. I was little in the picture. Maybe six or seven. Sitting behind a birthday cake, smiling at the camera.

Me.

"Put it down."

My voice came out sharper than I meant it to.

She looked at me. "Oh. Sorry. I was just looking." She glanced at the picture again. "It's actually cute. Is this you? And someone wrote on the back—"

"Just put it back. Please."

I crossed the room and took it from her before she could finish. I didn't look at the back. I didn't have to. I knew what was written there. A date. And a few words. Words I hadn't seen in years.

My roommate looked annoyed. "Okay, geez. I didn't know it was such a big deal."

I didn't answer. I put the picture back inside the box, then closed it. Carefully. Exactly the way I'd left it.

My hands were shaking again.

I hated that picture. That was all I let myself think. I hated it.

I didn't let myself wonder why. I didn't think about the date. I didn't think about the words on the back. I definitely didn't think about the person who'd written them.

I wasn't doing that.

I'd gotten pretty good at stopping thoughts before they went somewhere I didn't want them to go.

I sat on my bed with my back turned to my roommates. They'd already gone back to talking. Laughing. Like nothing had happened.

I stared at the wall. My heart was still beating too fast.

It was just a picture. Just a stupid old picture.

So why did it feel like today had found a way to corner me twice?