Chapter 4

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How could my life have changed so drastically in one conversation? I had just lost my best friend. I had walked five minutes to the nearest bus stop then took the bus closest to the house I lived in. From there I walked another five minutes to the house. I was lying in bed now after a quick shower and I couldn't get Carter and his confession out of my head.

It felt unreal, but was starting to make sense now. The way I'd catch him staring at me sometimes, the way he'd go out of his way to do things for me and defended me for all my actions. How I hadn't noticed this entire time or how I hadn't come to this conclusion bothered me. Maybe I didn't know him as well as I should have. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night, these thoughts swirling around in my head.

I woke up late the next day, with a killer headache. I walked to the kitchen and downed a glass of water and a pain killer. I leaned on the counter and closed my eyes as my head throbbed. I saw Carter's face when he said he loved me. I saw Carter's car abandon me on that road.

"What are you doing?"

I opened my eyes to see Ashley standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She was in a tiny nightgown and her hair was in curlers.

"Taking pain meds, what does it look like?" I gestured to the bottle of ibuprofen.

She walked past me to the fridge. "Just get out of the house already. People come early to my parties you know. I don't want them seeing me around you."

"As you wish," I bowed sarcastically as I walked out of the kitchen.

I had decided to visit the bookstore a block away from my old foster group home. Back when I lived there I was permitted to go visit, but I never had any money to buy a book. However, the owner whom everyone called Gran a small old lady would lend me some books as if it were a library. That all stopped once the Foster Mother believed I was stealing. Gran had repeatedly told her that I wasn't but the Foster Mother never let me back again. I had only come back one or two times after I was adopted.  I hadn't been there in a while. Now that I had a 'job' I believed I could afford a book.

I got ready and drove my car to the bookstore. The bookstore was just as I left it. It felt like I was in an old fashioned library. Even though it was summer there was a fireplace in one corner. The walls were wood paneled and there were shelves so high that there were portable stairs made for them. There were little cozy couches and small tables with chairs in the corners. It smelled like vanilla and old paper, just like I remembered. Gran was sitting at the front desk repairing a book with the front cover torn off.

"Hey, Gran," I walked over.

"Hello, dear. How are you? You've grown so much," Gran peered at me through her glasses.

"Really? It hasn't been that long I mean the last time was here... well the last time I was here-," I started.

"You were with that boy of yours," Gran tapped her head. "See? I remember! I'm not that old you know?"

I gave her a weak smile.

"So polite he was. I thought he was your beau. You know, I had all the boys when I was your age," she winked at me. "How is he anyways?"

"Uh, great. He's, um, he's doing good. Anyways Gran, could you direct me to the historical fiction section? I'm taking an American history class next year and I'd like to get some background on it, but you know me. I don't really care for non fiction. I don't want to read a textbook all summer, you know?"

"Sure dear," she pointed to the left corner of the bookstore.

"Thanks, Gran." I walked over to the section and scanned it over for american historical fiction. I picked a book and sat down by the window in a small armchair.

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