Prologue
If I could fly in any
direction, where would
it be? Would I be
headed
in one direction? Would
I
be fixing my gaze and
limiting my focus on
one, straight line?
Would
I be following that
straight line, enjoying
the way the wind
would rush to meet
me,
the way the clouds
would softly dissipate
as I pass them, the
way my eyes would
automatically flutter
close?
Or would I let the wind
take me anywhere?
Would I go north,
south,
east, west, or a mix of
all these directions—
going nowhere in
particular? Would I let
time pass me by as I
glide effortlessly
through the limitless
sky? Would I close my
eyes, feel every little
thing in the world—the
soft hum of the wind,
the coldness of the sky
enveloping me as I
took
flight, the way my
mind
would release itself
from my
consciousness
—and feel as light as a
feather carried by the
wind in midair? Would I
slip into an endless
flight, never fixing my
gaze on a straight line,
never giving myself
limitations and
restrictions?
I would probably
choose
the second one. To let
every little worry
completely slip off of
my mind. I would
probably take flight and
get carried away. Flight
means freedom. It has
no restrictions. It has
no limitations. It allows
you to feel like leaving
your worries far below
you. Flight must be a
wonderful thing.
But I could never fly.
Ever. Not in the way I’d
want to. I could never
soar through the skies,
not now, not ever. But
that’s okay. I don’t
have to fly, because I
found something
better. Something else.
Something way better
than flying.

I had been saving for
months to buy Cedric a
new electric guitar. I
took a part-time job at
a little boutique in town
and saved most of my
allowance so I could
come up with enough
money to buy it.
“He’d love it!” Hail told
me, her eyes shining
bright. “You guys are
the cutest couple in the
world. It’s really
amazing how you
started off as best
friends before going
out. Pretty soon you’d
marry each other and
I’ll
be your maid of honor.
Then you’d be having
babies and—”
“Oh, my god, stop it,” I
told her, fighting the
urge to blush.
Of course that was
exactly how I
envisioned it. I thought
there was no way we
wouldn’t eventually get
there.
That night, I didn’t
mind
dressing up, which was
saying a lot. I was the
type of girl who
preferred comfort over
appearance, choosing
to
wear a sweatshirt
over
a cute blouse. But I
wanted to make
Cedric’s birthday
special,
so Hail helped me curl
my brown locks. I
applied some makeup,
something I wasn’t
exactly quite fond of.
We ended up choosing
the plain white
sundress that looked
surprisingly good on
me.
I brought the guitar
with me, nestled in its
case. I used the straps
of the case and carried
it like a backpack,
underestimating the
guitar’s weight.
So I stood there in the
cold, summer night
with
my sundress on and a
guitar case slung over
my back, waiting for
Cedric to show up. At
some point, I set the
guitar down, propping it
carefully against the
sand. He was
uncharacteristically
late.
It had been two hours
and he wasn’t picking
up any of my phone
calls. I was starting to
get worried.
“Hey, babe. You play?”
At first I thought it
was some sort of
weird, out-of-character
joke from Cedric, but
when I looked up, it
wasn’t. In fact, it was
Seth Everett.
He stood in front of me
with his hands shoved
deep in his jean
pockets, his sandy
brown hair strewn over
his forehead.
If I didn’t know any
better, I would have
been flattered. I’d seen
him in school and have
heard rumors about
him
and the way he’d move
on from one girl to
another without
hesitation. If that
wasn’t enough for me
not to like him, there
was also the fact that
Cedric, for some
reason,
didn’t like Seth.
“What?” I asked him.
My throat felt dry,
making me realize how
long I’d been standing
there.
“I asked, do you play?”
He nodded at the
guitar.
A small smile was
playing across his lips,
the smile that
effectively made half
the female population
at our school swoon.
The same smile that
he
used when he was
hitting on another poor,
pathetic girl.
Was it possible that he
was hitting on me? I
had never really been
under his radar, seeing
as I was practically
invisible at school. Not
that I would complain.
I raised an eyebrow at
him. “Um, no.” I looked
sideways, hoping he’d
get the picture and
leave when he figures
out I wasn’t
interested.
I doubted that he even
knew we go to the
same school.
I saw him open his
mouth to say
something, but as if on
cue, Cedric arrived,
looking almost out of
breath when he saw
me. He eyed Seth coldly
before dragging me
away, leaving Seth
standing there with
the
same cold look on his
face.
I tore my eyes away
from Seth and looked
back at Cedric. I was
too relieved to see he
was fine that I’d
forgotten about being
mad at him for being
late. “Happy birthday,”
I
said.
He glanced at me. My
heart did this weird,
little dance when I saw
him look me over,
checking me out—
appreciating the fact
that I dressed up. But
the look on his face
was replaced by
something serious. My
smile shifted into a
slight frown.
“There’s something I
have to tell you,” he
told me, his voice
serious.

*Continuation*
“What is it?” I pushed
past the lump in my
throat and tried to
push
the queasy feeling in
my stomach away.
“Kyla.” He ran his
fingers
through his hair and
looked into my eyes
before averting his
gaze
and taking a deep
breath. “I think we
should break up.”
I blinked, shaking my
head. “What?”
The guitar felt heavier,
the wind seemed
colder, I suddenly felt
so bare and exposed–
vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he said,
looking down, his voice
strained.
“Break up?” I asked
him, fumbling for the
right words to say.
“You’re joking, right?
Right?”
He shook his head, ever
so slightly. I felt as if all
the air was knocked
out
of me, like somebody
had just punched me in
the gut. I was shaking
my head, trying to
make sense of
whatever was
happening.
“What are you talking
about? What–what’s
wrong?” I searched his
face for any clue, but
all
I could see were his
brown eyes, apologetic
and pained. “Why?”
He just shook his head,
looking down. “I’m
sorry.”
“We can–we can talk
this out,” I tried again,
reaching for him, but he
took a step back and
pursed his lips together
in a pained grimace.
I felt like he had just
slapped me. I opened
my mouth to say
something, but closed
it
when I realized I
couldn’t. It was hard to
summon my voice,
impossible to find any
words.
I looked at him one last
time, waiting for the
punch line, waiting for
him to take back what
he just said, waiting
fot
anything. His eyes held
mine for the longest
time and it almost
seemed like he was
going to reach for me.
But he just dropped his
gaze and repeated the
words “I’m sorry.”
My eyes started to
water. I shook my
head, taking quick,
shallow breaths as I
waited for something
more, but nothing
came.
I took a step back,
feeling as if somebody
had just ripped my
heart out.
And the worst part
was that it was Cedric
who did it.
I took another step
back and before the
tears could fall, I
turned
around and started to
walk away, fighting
the
urge to run, hoping he
would call me, ask me
to stop and turn
around.
Hoping he’d catch up to
me and stop me from
leaving.
I will not cry. I fought
the tears from falling. I
will not cry.
When I walked by the
juice bar, some guys
who were hanging out
there had whistled. I
turned to them. One of
them smiled while the
rest stared. At me. I
was being hit on. Again.
When I looked back,
Cedric was still there.
What nerve, I thought.
Showing up two hours
late without
explanation and
breaking up with me.
What freaking nerve. I
wiped the unshed
tears
from my eyes, careful
not to ruin my makeup.
I knew Cedric was still
watching me. I knew
he
was looking. That was
probably why I stepped
towards the juice bar
and approached the
guy
who was smiling at
me.
“Enjoying the view?” I
asked him.
He looked me up and
down before looking
back into my eyes.
“Very much so.”
I looked at Cedric again,
and I could see how
surprised he was. I
could see it, his eyes
wide, his mouth agape.
Was he hurting? Was
he
starting to regret his
decision? Did he even
care? I looked back at
the the stranger in
front of me.
“I’d take that as a
compliment,” I told him.