A Song for Julia

are. We never will be.”
    Then she turned and walked out.
    I slumped against the wall, rage and sadness warring inside me, my stomach clenched. I balled my fist and slammed it into the wall and shouted a curse. What the hell? I didn’t understand.
    I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how I’d fallen for this girl, and I didn’t understand why she ran away. Nothing made sense, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I felt out of control, desperate, and I wanted to run after her, to make her explain.
    But I knew she wouldn’t.
    A soft voice beside me, edged with anger. “What did you do, Crank?”
    I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted, the emotion draining out of me as if someone had just pulled the plug. Serena was standing next to me, a look of mixed concern and scorn on her face. She’d seen girls run out of here before, but this was different. This was Julia.
    She asked the question again, her voice insistent.
    “What did you do to her? Why did she leave like that?”
    I took a deep breath and answered honestly.
    “I told her I loved her.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

    Like dust (Julia)
    It was midnight when I got back to my room. Blessedly, none of my suitemates were in. Adriana and Linden had gone home for the holiday, and Jemi was out, I didn’t know where. I didn’t want to deal with questions from her about the very sudden trip to California, so it was just as well. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
    The sun was high up in the sky when I woke the next morning to the sound of my cell phone buzzing on the nightstand next to my bed. I reached over and picked it up, answering with a groggy, “Hello?”
    “Julia, it’s Serena.”
    I fought to open my eyes and let them slowly focus on the clock. Almost noon.
    “What is it?”
    “Are you asleep?”
    “I was.”
    “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was just calling to check in.”
    My brow furrowed. “Check in … why?”
    Then it sank in. She was calling because of me storming out of the warehouse last night. A stab of anxiety shot through me.
    “Um … you seemed pretty upset last night.”
    “Don’t worry about it, Serena.”
    I didn’t want to say, it’s none of your business. Even though it clearly was none of her business.
    “Sorry,” she said, “I don’t mean to pry. I just wanted to make sure … that we’re okay. The band.”
    I blinked. “Of course we are.”
    “You and Crank, um …”
    “Serena, listen. What happened between Crank and me is … private. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it. But it won’t affect our business relationship.”
    “Oh. I’m glad,” she said. She didn’t sound glad. Or relieved, or anything else. Finally, she said, “Just so you know … Crank’s as … upset as I’ve ever seen him. He’s really torn up over you leaving.”
    I closed my eyes, lying back against the pillow. My heart was thumping in my chest, and an unaccountable sadness ran through me. “And that’s exactly why I had to leave. And I’m not saying another word about it, all right? If Crank’s upset, tell him to go pick up some girl, I’m sure he’ll get it out of his system.”
    Before she could answer, I disconnected the call. I curled up on my side, staring at the wall. I had what I wanted, didn’t I? I had my independence. I had my security: no ties to break me apart. No risk, no overwhelming, out of control emotions taking hold of me and making me do things, making me allow things that I didn’t want.
    So why the hell did I feel so heartbroken?
    My arms were curled up in front of me, and I could easily trace the lines of the scars on my wrist from that hideous year when I’d finally given up and willed myself to die. Looking at the scars gave me strength. It reminded me that being dependent on people you love is nothing but a crutch. It reminded me that the inevitable result of love is heartbreak. It reminded me that the other side of those overwhelming emotions was death.
    And I wasn’t willing to go there. I wasn’t willing to do that harm to myself ever again. Never again would I watch my own lifeblood pouring out of me into a bathtub because I needed people in my life. I was going to live life on my terms or not at all.
    It was bitter, like dust, a bare moonscape inside my heart instead of flowers or bunnies or hearts or whatever the hell other people wanted to feel like. But it was also survival; it was life. And it was mine. No matter how much my heart yearned for Crank, no matter how much my