Paper Airplanes by Monica Alexander Read Free Book Online

the vacations my parents took throughout the year were a clear indication of just how much money we had. She was right. I didn’t need money. But I needed my independence. Serving would give me that, and it would get me into the habit of socializing again.
    My little trips to the grocery store or the mall alone got me part of the way there since I had to interact with sales people and the checkout clerks, but I didn’t have to have lasting conversations. At Dawson’s I’d work with other servers that I’d have to be friendly with. I’d have to talk to my customers and engage with them thr oughout the time they were eating. It would definitely push me beyond my current comfort zone. And I knew doing that would get me one step closer to being able to go back to Coleman so I could move on with my life for real.
    Ironically, social anxiety wasn’t ever something I’d dealt with before. I’d been a cheerleader, I’d been involved in Student Government, I was in a sorority, and I’d had a million friends –friends at school who I’d cut ties with because I couldn’t bring myself to call them back and talk to them after what had happened. After a while, they’d just stopped calling. Everyone accept Marley and Reese, that is. I’d cut everyone else out.
    I also had high school friends who would be coming home for the summer and would want to hang out. They’d want to drink and be silly and enjoy their time off from school, and they’d want me to do it with them, but I wasn’t sure if I could. How could I go back to partying after what had happened? How could I just let go of Will and Aiden and the twelve other people that had fallen victim to the same fate. How could I move on when they couldn’t?
    And I knew hanging out with my old friends wouldn’t make things go back to normal. They all knew what had happened, so they’d inevitably treat me differently. And the last thing I wanted to do, the thing that had prompted me not to call any of my college friends back over the past three months, was talk about what had happened. No one knew what I was feeling, and I couldn’t explain it. And no one knew how to act around me. They either projected their sympathy or their pity, or they weren’t sure how to act, so they shot me these awkward looks that just made everything worse. It had been like that when I’d run into a few people I knew over the past three months. I would have liked for them all to treat me like normal, but it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen – at least with people who knew what had happened to me.
    I was hoping I’d meet some people at Dawson’s who didn’t know me and in turn wouldn’t know about the shooting. It wa s one of my only bright spots at that moment.
    “I know I don’t need money, Mom, but I want this job. I think it’ll be fun.”
    My mother smiled at me then, and I knew it was her way of holding her tongue and forcing herself to give me the freedom she knew I needed. “I think you’re right.”
    I smiled. “Good, because I have an interview today.”
    “Wow, that was fast.”
    I shrugged. “The manager said he needed people right away, so hopefully I can start soon.”
    She nodded. “Sounds great. Let me know how it goes.”
    “I will,” I said, and she leaned over and kissed my forehead like she used to do when I was a little girl. “Have a great day, sweetie.”
    As soon as she closed my door behind her, I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. There were two cracks that converged to make the letter ‘Y’, and I wondered if I should be worried that the ceiling could cave in. I hoped not.
    I took a deep breath and decided to heave myself out of bed . I needed to get moving. I’d been up since seven, had already done thirty minutes on the elliptical and had coffee and showered. Since I didn’t have a social life, I went to bed relatively early and got up early. I never used to do that, but it was my pattern now.
    Walking over to my