Indigo (10 page)

When I hand it to her with a sheepish expression, she smiles shyly and immediately zips it open to put it on. The look of satisfaction on her face when she cuddles into its warmth is worth all the crap I’m inevitably going to get later from Shawn. I like her wearing something I got her. I like it a lot.

“Thank you Kennedy. You really didn’t have to do this.” She reaches behind her to pull her hair out from the back, and then slips her hands into the sleeves.

“You’re welcome. It gets really cold up here.”

I stare at her so cute and little in the sweatshirt, damn glad I bought it for her.

I shove my hands in my pockets as we start walking, overcome with the urge to know if she had a good time tonight. A good time with me. “So did you have fun tonight?”

A small smile graces her lips. “I did. I’m glad I went. Thank you for…hanging out with Sabrina and I.”

“I had a great time too,” I tell her, wanting her to know that I hope we see each other again. And then because I feel I have to, I say “And, sorry about Shawn. He’s an idiot sometimes.”

The smile disappears from her face and I watch her hand go up to her cheek. Damnit that was probably the wrong thing to say. I want her to know that I don’t give a fuck about her scar. That while it makes me angry to look at it, I would never want her to feel uncomfortable or feel she has to hide it from me.

“It’s okay, really. I’m used to it.”

My hands clench in my pockets, and I don’t say a word, not wanting to get it wrong again. I want to tell her a million things. That I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but I know the words will fall short. Soon.

We reach the door of her building, and she turns to face me. Although my normal routine would be to get my lips on hers, I know I can’t do that with her. And that just makes me want her all the more. But she does gift me with a sincere smile I can see through the wind blowing her black hair in strands across her face. “Thank you again for hanging out with me tonight, I had a good time. And the sweatshirt…it really was just too much.”

“I had a good time too,” I say truthfully. Before I can think of what else I want to say, she gives me a quick wave, “I’ll see you around.” I get one more smile before she turns around and walks to the door.

I’ll see you around? I watch her walk to the dorm, making sure she’s in safely.

Yeah. You will.

INDIGO

When I blink my eyes open the next afternoon, the first thing I notice is how dry my mouth is.

“Yuck.” Rubbing the wayward strands of hair from my face, I glance at the clock to see that it’s 11am. About five hours of sleep.  I learned last night that the little bit of alcohol I had actually made it easier to ignore the darkness and crash. I haven’t gotten five hours of solid sleep and been up before noon in I don’t know how long.
Better not become an alcoholic
, I think dryly.

The shower is calling to me, so I drag myself out of bed and give in to the temptation. Memories of last night trickle in and I can’t help but smile as I rinse the shampoo out of my hair. Hanging out with a handsome boy, dancing with him, feeling normal, it was better than I ever could have expected. If only for a minute, I got to live what other girls live, and most of the time take for granted. A small wave of sadness hits when I come back down to my reality. I know that none of that could ever really be my life, at least not on a permanent basis. But then, I think of Kennedy giving me the sweatshirt, and all I want to do is laugh at how cute he was when he gave it to me. I still don’t understand why he did it. I just met him a few days ago. I think then of how intense he seemed every time he looked at me, as if he was trying to look inside me. The thought gives me a rush of nervous butterflies, and I can’t decide if I want them there or not. I push away all thoughts of him, not wanting to think about something that really can’t go anywhere.

I step out of the shower five minutes later, feeling much better. Grabbing a towel for my body, and one for my hair, I head out back into my bedroom to get dressed. When I’m halfway across the floor, I hear my phone vibrating on my nightstand. Assuming it’s my mother or Sabrina, I hurry over, anxious to talk to either one. The screen flashes a random number, but the area code is around here so I pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Yes hi, is this Indigo Olsen?” The woman’s voice is friendly but not one I recognize.

“Yes this is she, may I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Ellen Lincoln, I’m the Dean of students here at Fairbanks College.”

My eyes go wide. The Dean?! Why is she calling me? How did she get my number? Then I realize how stupid that is because she probably has access to everything and can just look it up. I nervously bite the skin on the side of my thumb. “Oh, hello…is there, is there something you needed?”

“I wanted to call to see if you had a free hour this morning to come down to my office. I’d like the chance to personally welcome you to Fairbanks. With such a small campus, I like to meet one-on-one with as many students as I can.”

“Oh ok, and sure, I can meet this morning.” I hear myself respond. Even though I don’t really want to, and the thought of meeting such an important figure at the college makes pulse race, I can’t exactly tell her no. Might as well get it over with, and the sooner the better. “I can meet you in about 40 minutes, does that work?”

“Wonderful,” she replies. “I’m in the administration office, just heads towards the back. My office is the last on the left. You can’t miss it!”

We say our goodbyes, and I begrudgingly get dressed, a little annoyed that I have to put off my plans to go to the hardware store. Last night during a particularly rough moment, I moved the dresser in front of my window, so it’s now totally blocked. It helped, but the air flow in the room became a little stifling, so I really need some sort of alternative solution.

About 25 minutes later, I grab my purse, lock my door, and test it three times before heading down the hall. When I step through the double doors out into the morning air, I can literally smell the autumn breeze and it makes me miss home.  Cinnamon brooms, apple cider donuts, and cozy fires come to mind, reminding me why this is positively my favorite time of year. All that, mixed with my progress last night has a smile at my lips. Hunkering down into my coat, I make the ten minute walk to the admin building.

Entering the large stone structure, I’m able to bypass my way around the secretary, who is busy in conversation with a couple other students. I find the Dean’s office easily, and take a few deep breaths before going inside.

A sharply dressed woman is typing furiously away at her computer as I stand by the door. I knock once, getting her attention, feeling very small and unimportant in the large immaculate office. A horrified expression widens her eyes for a split second when she looks up at me before her lovely features fall into a practiced smile. I can imagine how I must look to such a put together woman like her. But she’s quicker than most at hiding her disgust at my scar, and I almost admire her for it.

“Indigo! Welcome.” She gets to her feet and walks around the large wooden desk. “I’m so glad you could make it, please, please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I say as I cautiously step up to the seat she indicates.

“I always like to do this with as many students as my days allow,” she explains again, leaning on the front of the desk with her arms crossed. “I know most Deans aren’t as hands-on, but I find I can’t help myself!”

I nod, smiling a little awkwardly, and wait to see what else she has to say.

“So, tell me, how was your first week here at Fairbanks?”

“Good so far,” I tell her honestly. “I’m looking forward to all my dance classes, especially. You have a very talented staff here.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” she beams. “I actually have a love for dance myself. I took classes throughout middle school and high school, but let it go for more serious pursuits when I got to college.”

I can’t tell if she’s just insulted me or not, but I don’t have the nerve to call her out on it, so I just stay silent. I imagine what Sabrina would have said, and the thought makes me smile.

“How is Dow working out for you?” She walks back around her desk and takes a seat, folding her hands across the top of the polished surface. My eyes drop to a picture of her and a cute little boy, most likely her son, on what looks to be his first day of Kindergarten. I bring my gaze back up to hers.

“It’s great, more than great,” I tell her, wanting her to know I’m thankful for the concession she made for me to live there. There’s no way I could have lived with some stranger on the first floor of a packed freshman dorm. “Thank you again for letting me stay there.”

“I want you to feel comfortable here, Indigo,” she leans in. “Fairbanks is a very safe place, and if you ever have any issue with anything, feel free to come to me personally and I will help you in any way that I can.”

My nerves settle, and I can tell at least a part of her is sincere. Feeling much better than I did when I came in, I look her in the eyes for the first time. “Thank you, I appreciate that, but I’m really fine-“

A knock on the door cuts me off, and to my complete surprise, I see two students I don’t know just walk in. One has a fancy camera, the other a notepad. My nerves turn back on full force and I turn to face the Dean, really hoping that this surprise visit has nothing to do with me.

The Dean rises from her seat, and walks over to them with a wide grin. “Indigo, I want you to meet Trent and Jolene. They work for the Fairbanks Courier here on campus.”

Resisting the urge to bite the skin on my hand, I put it out for Jolene to shake instead. “Hi.”

She looks at my scar with undisguised interest, and when I glance at Trent, he is doing the same. I know reporters, and I can tell these two are just itching to get their claws into me, just like they all are.

“What’s this all about?” I can’t keep the question in, and I can’t help from silently begging that they won’t try and force me to do any type of interview.

As if conjuring the words from my dark thoughts, the Dean puts a hand on my shoulder, barely containing her enthusiasm. “The Courier would like to do an interview, Indigo. You’ve gone through so much, but you’re still here, bettering yourself and your future. There is no better representation for Fairbanks, and it will show prospective students that this is a safe environment to continue their studies.”

My heart hits the pit of my stomach, and I shrug her hand off my shoulder. “No. I can’t do that…I’m sorry.”

I can tell the Dean is a woman who does not get told no often, because she looks at me in complete confusion. “What do you mean, you can’t? Is now not a good time? We’d be happy to reschedule-“

“No,” I say a bit more loudly. “I won’t do it. I don’t want to be in the paper.”

I should have known this was some sort of setup. It always is with me. Backing toward the door, I pray silently that she won’t keep pressing, and that she’ll be able to take my refusal as her final answer. But when I see the small glint of ice in her eyes, I can tell that she won’t be deterred that easily.

“Indigo, honey…”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “I’m not doing any interviews. I never have and I won’t start now.”

Her expression falls, and the small bit of sincerity is back, but I’m too riled up to care. “Indigo are you worried about the photo? The picture doesn’t have to show your scar. We’ll take a very nice one, a profile shot. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

I glance over at Jolene, and her expression reveals more than a little bit of shock, as if she also can’t believe what the Dean just said. Once my eyes start watering, I know I have to leave, and without another word, I run out the door and straight back to my dorm, desperate to be alone.

KENNEDY

Grunting and groaning wakes me up the next morning, and I open to eyes to see Shawn doing pushups on the floor. I pick my head up, watching him for a few more seconds before glancing at the clock. “What time is it?”

“About nine,” he answers, without stopping. “I’m about to go for a run before the game, you in?”

“Na, not today.”

He stops, wipes the sweat from his brow and grabs his water from the table. His eyebrows are pulled together when he takes a sip. I usually never refuse a morning workout. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I got a few things I need to take care of before we leave. I’ll be ready at 1.”

“Okay, I’ll catch you later.” He turns to leave, but then stops. “I had fun last night.”

I wait for further explanation, and when there isn’t one, I prompt him with my hands. “But?”

“No, not buts,” he said, but I can tell he’s thinking something over in his head. Without warning, he suddenly grabs his phone and starts typing out a text.

“Who are you texting so early?”