Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
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"How did your interview go yesterday?" Dad breaks the silence while we stop at a light on the way to school.
I stop looking at the cast that's been cut down to just above my wrist now. This morning the doctor informed me I have another two weeks, three maximums of wearing it and I haven't been more relieved. It feels weird having air on my skin again.
"It went fine," I answer without much thought, stopping myself from scratching the skin any more than I have been. "I find out Monday about the next round which should be extracurriculars."
"How's the counseling going?"
I slowly look at him which he breaks away to continue driving when the light changes. Running my tongue over my teeth I shrug in silent answer. I'm sure he's eager for a magical transformation.
"I didn't really have much choice in the matter," I shake my head slowly, pushing away the slight anger that comes up. "But I'm attending and talking."
He pauses for a moment. "You're extremely strong, I don't doubt that . . . I just worry that when I'm not around, you struggle and have nobody to turn to . . . I want you to have the future you deserve and I don't want this pressure you put on yourself to be the thing that stops you."
"You weren't the only one who was concerned," I mumble.
The school comes into focus and dad drives slower than necessary into the parking lot. "You know that kid hasn't been around in a while."
"Summer?" I furrow my eyebrows.
"I'm pretty sure Summer doesn't drive a black SUV. Nor is she six foot tall and a guy," he parks and looks at me while I force a poker face. "Mrs Wilston told me that he's been coming over every Wednesday afternoon for a few months . . . he's a nice person but I'd prefer to get to know him properly, not as a study partner."
I purse my lips, "He's not my boyfriend."
"Callie-"
"No. He isn't," I open the door and grab my bag from the floor, seeing him frowning at me. Biting my lip I pause midway out and duck back in. "It didn't work out."
Dad's face hardens. "What do you mean it didn't work out? Why would he break up-"
"I broke up with him," I cut off his rant, shaking my head at his confusion. "It doesn't matter. It's over. So you can tell Mrs Wilton that . . . and her cat better not get in my way when I'm reversing out because I will speed up."
Dad cracks a slight smile but allows me to escape without another word. Because that was embarrassing. I can't believe my neighbor tattled on me - though, I should have seen it coming from the sixty-seven-year-old widow with one too many cats. Of course, she'd be spying on the neighbors.
I make my way into the school, signing in at the front office and taking an exemption slip to English. There are only thirteen minutes left to the class anyway so I'm tempted to just head to lunch now.
