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Chapter 20 Worthington University
Fall Semester, Sophomore Year
“Have you ever shot one of those before?” Je
She is wearing an identical getup, and I grin at her. I’ve grown close to many of the teenagers from TeenCharter, especially Je
When I first met Je
Je
Working with Tucker is my least favorite.
Je
“Who?” I played dumb, though I knew exactly who she meant.
Je
But she brought it up again the following week. “If you don’t want to be around Tucker, why do you come here with him?”
“Well, if I didn’t, then I wouldn’t get to see you, would I?” Je
Je
To get this program off the ground, I’d had to put my feelings about Tucker aside. They were still there, of course, otherwise Je
It’s hard to look at Tucker without feeling ashamed of my own behavior that night. And angry at him for, knowingly or unknowingly, taking advantage of my intoxication.
But it’s been months, and while it’s definitely not easy to see him every weekend, to text and email and coordinate about TeenCharter events, it has gotten easier.
In my Intro to Psychology course, we learned about Exposure Therapy. It’s a treatment developed to help people confront their fears, by repeatedly exposing them to the object of their fear. It’s extremely effective.
And I think that’s what our TeenCharter program has done for me. At first, it was just a means to fulfill my community service hours. But it’s become so much more. My commitment to the kids we help has far outweighed my aversion to dealing with Tucker.
The truth is, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. Tucker is great with them, and generous with his time. He fulfilled his community service hours within the first few weeks, but hasn’t once mentioned pulling away from the program.
At this point, more than just “complicated,” my feelings for Tucker can best be summed up in one word: discomfort. I don’t want to like him. But it’s hard to hate someone who dressed up in a bu
When Tucker first proposed the idea, I tried to shut it down. They’re teenagers. They don’t believe in the Easter Bu
Just like they did at the Monster Mash he suggested for Halloween. And coming to Paintball-Palooza today was Tucker’s idea, too. He’d convinced the owner to comp our fees and Dean Johnson arranged for transport using one of our campus shuttle buses. Now I wink at Je At Paintball-Palooza, games are played on four and a half acres of thick woodlands, with natural cover coming from trees and boulders, piles of logs and tires, as well as manmade wooden shelters. As a camp counselor for five summers in a row, it would be impossible not to be at least somewhat proficient at paintball. Although, after finding out we were coming here today, I made a solo trip to acclimate myself to the terrain and equipment. I’m glad I did. The second I pulled the scent of pinecones and damp earth unto my lungs, a wave of nostalgia sent me reeling. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the good rather than the bad. Because almost all of my memories of Gavin are good. Incredibly great, actually. Our hikes, our talks, our card games. Kissing and touching and exploring each other’s bodies. Stolen moments. Shared jokes. Laughing and loving. The Sackett Preserve had been a little slice of paradise. Our little slice of paradise. And I want to remember that. The smiles Gavin put on my face. The joy he brought into my life. It took a while, but I thought I’d pulled myself together. I really did. So, I let go of the maple tree I’d used to steady myself, and my palm came away sticky from untapped sap. And suddenly… I wasn’t okay. My hand felt like it was on fire. Pain ripped through me, sharp-edged and fierce, as if I’d been gutted by a hot poker. Gavin. I spent the entire session hiding beneath that tree, my paintball gun forgotten on my lap. Finally accepting that his absence is a gaping wound I might never recover from. Even knowing I don’t deserve him anymore. That, in the truest sense of the word, I’d been unfaithful. Regardless of what came after, I flirted with Tucker. I kissed Tucker. I invited him back to my room before agreeing to go to his. I don’t know whether Gavin has been with anyone else. Or why he left. But I would take him back in a heartbeat… if he’d have me. If he’d only come back. Or call. Send a message via carrier pigeon. Anything. I left without answers or closure. The only saving grace was that got my breakdown out of the way. So far, I’ve managed to maintain a relatively calm, composed facade in front of the TeenCharter kids. And Tucker. We split up into teams, then paired off to find cover. I led Je The fog horn blares, and as I suspected, everyone starts ru Je I put my gun down. “Here, let me show you.” I go over the rudiments of aligning her sight and firing in the space between her breaths. “Should I be scared that you’re a little too good at shooting people?”