Almost by Anne Eliot Read Free Book Online Page A

expression is locked in place, but there are no guarantees. Not after the nightmare.
If she catches on that it's resurfaced, I won't be allowed to start my internship when school lets out next week. Instead, she'll make me head back into therapy.
I layer on a small smile. “I…I'm too excited to sleep so I thought I'd check out some campuses. Forgot to lower the volume before playing a video. Sorry if it woke you.”
“Shouldn't you be getting sleep for finals?” she asks, but it isn't until she yawns, tightens the belt on her baby-blue fleece robe and leans on the doorframe to assume her attorney-lecture-stance that I risk releasing one full breath of air.
“I'm sure your father will agree that it's premature for you to be on college websites. We've reserved the right to pull the plug on our decision at the end of the summer,” she says, thankfully not watching me as she yawns again. She's bought in to my lies.
“Dr. Brodie gave me thumbs up. Why can't you believe it?” I bark out, still trying to hold as much of my breath as possible.
“College is a long way off. One step at a time. The fact that you impressed them into offering you a second, unpaid internship is a great start. You're a very lucky girl. And—”
You're a very lucky girl.
You're a very lucky girl.
The police officer's words from my nightmare mesh with my mom's speech and explode into painful lightning inside my head. Mom has a talent for saying just the wrong thing at the worst possible time.
And catching me, post nightmare, would qualify as the worst possible time . My stomach twists into a ball and my legs tense until they ache from me holding back the tremors.
I've never told Mom or anyone the exact words that trigger me into losing it. I know it's not on purpose. The words hit me again.
You're a very lucky girl.
You're a very lucky girl.
I try to maintain a calm expression as drops of sweat slide down my neck. My hairline prickles painfully. Soon moisture will roll down my forehead and she'll see it.
You're a very lucky girl.
I force my eyes to stay open and cross my arms over my rolling stomach as the leftover panic from the dream now builds steadily inside me like a giant wave. I bite the insides of my cheeks and train my fuzzed-out gaze in the direction of Mom's still moving lips.
Lucky. Lucky girl.
I steel myself to deflect the strobe light images: a silver belt buckle, purple tipped seashells, a crystal bowl, hands on my skin, and the color white all around me.
Very lucky girl.
I bite harder and concentrate on the metallic taste of blood on my tongue, well aware that I must get my mom out of this room. It's a major feat to check back into the conversation, uncross my arms, and try to switch my expression to vacant .
Vacant, in this condition is not easy, but it's the best choice to piss her off.
“…and, summer aside,” Mom's blabbing on, “there's still the matter of you surviving senior year . You have to also score well on the SAT's and the ACT's,” she finishes.
I slouch deeper into the laptop monitor and click the mouse.
Click. Click. Click.
“Jess, are you listening?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see her fling her arms out in total frustration. Her voice goes up two decibels, right on cue. “Dad and I want you to prove that you can branch out—beyond this room. We want you to—”
“Be normal. I'm on it,” I manage to say, bored voice, eyes glued to the computer. One more mouse click and then: type, type, type, type.
“Prove it, then. Sleep. See if you can make it to school minus your skeleton's face and the under-eye circles.”
“That was low, Mom. Even for you .” I release a long puff of air, hoping to sound offended instead of half-dead from holding my breath. I stage the cold glare and flick it toward the door, but I'm unprepared to meet the absolute anguish I find in her eyes.
Regret and apology flash between us like the sudden glimmer of a butterfly's wing.
Shame stings my eyes because of all the lies I'd