Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Bile rises in my throat again, but I raise my chin. All I know is that in this moment, there’s only one thing I can do: maintain my dignity. So I sling my backpack over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and leave the library without a backwards glance.
2
Lucy
Teddy bear? Gone.
Pretty beaded necklace that I got for my birthday? Gone.
Pictures of Jasper and I on vacation together? Gone, gone, gone.
It took a full week for me to do anything but mope and cry and feel sorry for myself. I spent a lot of time in bed, wrapped in my blankets, neglecting everything. I couldn’t eat and sleeping yielded nightmares, so most of the time I just dozed in a half-sleep, half-awake state when I wasn’t at school. How could he? I can’t get those images out of my head. The ones with Celine’s big breasts bobbling and her inner pinkness glistening, just waiting for Brandon’s touch. How could he do this to me? Utter despair claimed me.
Now, though, it’s been a week and I’m burning with righteous fury, as if I’ve been set on fire by a warrior goddess. I woke up this morning and knew that my crying was over. It’s time to move onto phase two of the grieving process: anger.
Sitting on my bedroom floor, I mercilessly toss things into a cardboard box. It was hard, at first. The teddy bear that Jasper gave to me on our third date seems to be staring reproachfully at me from the bottom of the box. He looks like he’s crying too, given his glassy eyes and sad little face. But I can’t stop because the more items I throw in, the better I begin to feel. Purging Jasper from my life feels like purging toxins from my bloodstream, and it’s a painful but necessary process.
Casting my gaze around my room for more things to trash, I land on a card pinned to my bulletin board. “I love you to the moon and back!” it reads in Jasper’s scrawling handwriting. I scowl and pluck it from the board, rip it in half, and cram it in the garbage. If he truly loved me that much, then why did he cheat on me? If he really was devoted to me, then why did he break my heart so carelessly? It must have all been a lie.
Tears threaten to well up, but I stubbornly blink them back. No more crying, Lucy, I tell myself sternly. There’s no use wasting tears on someone who doesn’t deserve them.
I stand back up and seize another empty box from my closet, dropping it onto the floor. This one will house Jasper’s stuff. He seems to be pretty careless with his clothing, and already I’ve spotted two hoodies, a pair of pajama pants, and a spare pair of earbuds. I carefully fold the clothing items before stopping myself, shaking my head, and tossing them into the box. Let them get messed up. See if I care.
As I hunt around my room for more of Jasper’s things, my mind wanders to my future. I wince involuntarily as I remember yet again that I wanted to have kids with Jasper upon graduation. What was I thinking? God, what an idiot I’ve been. Clearly, he’s not worth my time, much less my DNA, so I’ve dodged a bullet. But what am I going to do now? How am I going to get a baby?
I stop myself from going down that road and try to focus on the task at hand. After going through the bathroom, I throw a toothbrush, a half-empty bottle of cologne, and a stick of Old Spice deodorant into the box. He should be grateful that I’m even giving him his things back. One of my friends suggested that I simply light it all on fire, and I seriously considered it. That would be awesome because I’d love to start a bonfire in Jasper’s front yard, so long as he doesn’t call the cops on his insane ex-girlfriend.
I shake my head and seal the box closed. I’m going to be the bigger person, and I’ll be damned if I give up on that now. He’s not going to make me seem like the crazy ex when in fact, he’s the one who has no morals and no honor. I doubt that Jasper will come crawling back, but I certainly don’t have to drop to his level.
I grab my phone and, after making a face, start to text him. There are a million things I want to say, but I decide to stick with short and sweet.
I’m dropping off your stuff. When would be a good time?
The answer comes quickly, as if he’s been staring at his phone.
Whenever is good, Lucy. I’m at tennis practice right now.
I definitely don’t want to see him, so my fingers fly over my keyboard again.