Page 18 of All That Glitters

“You’re amazing,” I tell her and take it.

I can tell by the warm plate that she must have microwaved it first. My first bite is luxurious. I close my eyes.

“What are men to pie and ice cream?” I ask around a bite.

The girls laugh, thankfully getting my reference due to me showing them the Pride and Prejudice movie last week. Aurora offers me some of her blanket, and I curl up beneath it, throwing my attention toward the movie on the TV instead of my life. Barbie: Fairytopia is a much better use of my brain cells. Jasmine heads back into the kitchen to get more plates of pie, and all starts to feel right again. Far away from Jameson, it’s easier to breathe. To calm my spiraling thoughts. To just be. Funny how it used to be the opposite. He used to be the one to make me feel at peace. I guess all good things have to come to an end, eventually.

Chapter nine

Try

Jameson Sinclair

My phone starts to buzz in my hoodie pocket as I’m approaching the doors to the Communications building where the newsroom is. I pull it out and smile a little when I see my mom’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Mom.” I answer and tug open the door.

Warm air bathes my cold skin.

“Hey, sweetie!” my mom chirps. “I’ve got your dad here, too. I snuck into his office to bring him coffee.”

About once a week my mom sneaks into my dad’s accounting firm to bring him coffee and steal a few minutes of his time. In reality, everyone knows she goes there and no one would stop her.

“Hey, Dad,” I say as I lean against the wall outside of the newsroom.

I can see Marigold’s red hair through the window. My chest aches as the memory from two nights ago resurfaces. I shouldn’t have said most of what I did, but I’ve gotten so tired of keeping it all inside. After months of waiting for her to thaw, to be ready to hear me out, she’s still as icy as ever. I can’t take it.

“I’ve got your latest headline on my desk,” my dad booms. “It’s great, as per usual. Not surprised it’s on the cover.”

My mouth tugs up at the edges.

“Thanks, Dad. I worked hard on it.”

I tend to second-guess every word I write, so it takes forever just to get a first draft done. Then, I edit it ruthlessly before sending it to one of the paper’s editors.

“We read one of your articles every week in my book club, you know. Everyone says you’re an amazing reporter!” Mom chimes in.

Her words warm my chest. My parents have always been supportive of my endeavors, whether it be hockey or journalism, but it’s nice to have reassurance. Especially lately, when I’ve struggled so much with my past decisions.

“Aren’t you glad you took that internship?” Dad asks. “I told you it would pay off.”

I rake a hand through my hair and grimace. My parents pushed me to apply. I never told them about my deal with Marigold, worried they would view her differently if they didn’t see it the way she and I did.

“Yeah, it was a great opportunity,” I say stiffly.

There’s no doubt the internship helped my future on the paper, but at what cost? When I’d applied, it was during a time when I wasn’t thinking straight. After a certain night I promised not to talk about, Marigold was pulling away. Dodging my calls and acting strange when I’d come by her house. I wanted to talk about what happened, but she made me swear to be silent. It was maddening. Then, my parents found out about the internship and asked me why I hadn’t told them about it. I was at a loss on how to explain and frustrated by everything going on, so when they sat me down at my laptop and urged me to apply … I did. On the due date.

Every day after that I told myself to tell Marigold. To just blurt out the words and deal with the fallout they would bring. But then she started warming up to me again. As if the moment between us hadn’t happened and we were back to being two best friends headed to college. So I decided to wait until I got rejected, sure that would be what happened. Only, it didn’t.

“How’s Goldie?” Mom asks, as though she can read my mind. “I read her article this week too. She’s a brilliant little thing. I don’t know where she comes up with those metaphors of hers!”

“She’s good,” I reply. Marigold turns to the right and says something, then laughs. She’s probably talking to Paisley. “We’re working together on a series of articles on the hockey team, so you’ll be able to see both of our names on the same byline soon.”

“Oh, how exciting!” I hear my mom clap. “Isn’t that exciting, Stan?”

“It is,” Dad intones. “I’m proud of both of you. Make sure you tell her that. And I want to see both of you at the house for dinner soon. It’s been too long.”

I close my eyes. If things don’t change soon, I’m going to have to tell them that Marigold and I are on the outs. The main reason I haven’t is that I thought it would create unnecessary awkwardness once things were fine again. I’ve been lying and making up excuses on her behalf for months. They haven’t mentioned reaching out to her themselves, but if they have, Marigold must be keeping up the charade too.