Seeing Shane Gray ✓

thirty | careful

*.*.*.*.*.*

November 23

With my focus entirely on taking my November SATs, I forget about everything else. Marla returns to school after a few days, having struck a deal with Hashir that she won't enroll in Boston University so they won't be tempted to stay together. She'll apply at other colleges, though, study what she wants, live her life all while the two of them stay in touch long-distance. And if Marla still feels the same way by the time she graduates or turns twenty at least, they'll have a grand wedding and probably live together till one of them dies.

Fair enough.

The only one who doesn't agree is Mama Harley. After the huge fit she has and the dramatic yelling and crying that follows, she decides she will not give her daughter her blessing. Marla isn't swayed by her mother's threats, firmly stating that she has every right to decide how she wants to spend her life.

I kind of have to agree.

After getting rejected by Riley -- what a turn of events -- Carlos turns his attention on keeping his grandma happy and realizes that Gemma isn't such a bad option for him after all. He likes being with her and her sass is a great counterpart to his arrogance. After meeting the bright-smiled and chock-full of sarcastic-eye-rolls Gemma, I hate to say that I kind of agree.

As for Shane ... now that's the mystery.

Over the span of November, I barely see him. The only times I catch sight of him, he's either racing into class or out of it, and since we don't take any classes together, it's hard getting him to stop and talk to me. Outside class, every time I see him, he's on the field practicing with his team. I'm not surprised. Carlos tells me they have a big match coming up soon enough and their admission into Stanford depends on whether or not they can impress the representative coming in to watch the game.

I don't let the thought of Shane distract me from my own SATs. My mind is set on getting into Washington since I'm more passionate than ever about getting into the psychology major I've decided to pursue. My initial motivation had been Carter and the pressure of wanting nobody else to ever feel ignored or not understood. I realize how important this is as I see Mom slowly getting better.

She seems happier now, the color returning to her cheeks after her weekly sessions with the therapist who has also prescribed her some pills. I don't like the sight of the pills since they always remind me of Carter, but at least Mom takes them regularly.

They make her look more like herself again.

Realizing how important therapy or treatment is, I finally agree to see my doctor again and telling him I hate the insulin shots. He tells me it's either that or a pump that isn't the recommended option. After some back and forth and much failed negotiation, I end up complying with him; Mom will help me administer three insulin shots every day.

The thought is not only frightening but also upsetting.

"Look at it this way, you'll get used to it after a while," Mom says, pinching a bit of my belly fat between her thumb and forefinger and stabbing the needle into my stomach so that I wince and hiss.

"I hate this," I repeat like every other time when she pats my stomach and I tug my shirt down, feeling utterly exposed in front of Mom.

"You'll get used to it," Mom says, breaking the needle and placing it into a disposable zipper bag before tossing it into the bin.

She walks to the basin and washes her hands before opening the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of water. I can almost remember how often I watched her take out nothing but wine from that same fridge. The change is more than welcome.