I Drew the Blank Straw for Eighteen Years Chapter 07

I Drew the Blank Straw for Eighteen Years Chapter 07

Saturday afternoon, my roomniates and I had just finished lunch off-campus.

Nearly back at the campus gate, I caught sight of a painfully familiar silhouette.

I turned my head instinctively, planning to take the long way around.

But he closed the distance fast, cutting me off, and spoke first.

“Wren. You’ve changed so much.”

It was true.

Since coming to Montreal, I’d let go of eighteen years of plain dark hair and dyed it a vivid pink.

In Ashcombe’s open, free-spirited atmosphere, I’d become more confident, more alive.

With my roommates’ help, I’d even picked up enough French to get by day-to-day.

“Did you need something?”

My voice came out cool, flat, with a distance I’d never had to build before.

His lips trembled at that.

Because I’d never once spoken to him that way, not before.

“Wren, why would you come all the way out here for school? I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Well, you can see for yourself now. I’m doing great. You should go.”

“I’m sorry. I misjudged you. I really didn’t understand what was going on.”

Guilt colored his voice.

He pulled a star-shaped bracelet out of his bag, hurried and anxious.

A designer piece, the star charm custom-made.

He held it out toward me, something small and hopeful buried in his eyes.

“Wren-this is for you. I hope you keep shining, even here at Ashcombe.”

I didn’t reach for it. I took a step back instead.

“I don’t need it. Not anymore.”

Those three words-not anymore-landed hard.

The color drained from his face all at once, leaving him pale.

He paused, then, like he was gathering every last bit of courage, asked,

“Wren-do you hate me

“I don’t hate you. But that’s all there is.” I didn’t hesitate for a second.

Not hate. Not resentment. Just-that’s all there is.

Meaning I’m done caring about you entirely. I don’t expect anything from you anymore.

This is where it ends. We’re never going back to how things were.

I said it, then turned and walked into campus.

Julian stood frozen where he was, the star bracelet clenched in his fist.

He watched my back disappear, guilt and loss churning behind his eyes.

I heard later that not long after he got back to Rutherford, Julian moved to Portland.

Back in junior year, I’d once mentioned to him that I wanted to apply to a school in Portland.

Maybe because Callum and I are both from the same hometown, something about our rhythms just fit, and

we drifted closer, little by little.

When I’d bury myself in research and forget to eat, he’d quietly show up with a container of beef and tomato

stew.

When I landed some achievement and lit up with joy, he’d quietly grab his camera and capture the moment.

When I hit a wall with coursework, he’d take me down to the Old Port.

The evening wind would drift by, and he’d slip one earbud into my ear.

We’d stand there together, looking out over the water, and whatever was weighing on me would just

dissolve.

Ever since Marielle moved out, the mood at home had grown heavier and heavier.

Mom and Dad kept staring at my empty room, checking the Montreal weather forecast every day like

clockwork.

Out on the street, they’d always do a double take at anyone with a similar build to mine.

One day, Callum and I were walking back to campus when we ran into a few painfully familiar faces at the

gate.

“Your family?” Callum asked first.

‘No. I don’t have family.”

My tone was flat.

“Alright. I’ll go ahead and wait for you inside.” He patted my back.

It had only been a short while, but Mom and Dad both looked like they’d aged years.

Fine lines had crept across the corners of Mom’s eyes.

Dad’s back had curled in on itself a little more.