Kyland

I shook my head, collapsing in the chair across from her desk. "I bombed my finals," I said. "I did terribly."

I did it for Kyland. I did it so he'd win.

This is all wrong. This is all wrong.

She pursed her lips, regarding me quizzically. "I did see that you choked on those tests, Tenleigh. I was surprised. You've always been such a good test taker." She waved her hand in the air. "But, evidently, the scholarship is based on more than final test scores—you have to understand that your whole four years here is taken into consideration . . . how many AP classes you took, what extracurricular activities you were involved in, things of that nature."

The truth was, I hadn't been involved in many extracurricular activities. We couldn't afford them, and I'd had to work. This couldn't be right. And yet . . . it was.

I wondered briefly if this had anything to do with my mother. I sat up straight in the chair. Had Mr. Kearney given me this scholarship to get our family out of town? But how would that work? It's not like I could take anyone with me. What? Would my mama and Marlo sleep in my dorm room bunk bed with me? Of course not. I was desperate and so confused.

"I want to transfer it into someone else's name," I said, looking at her pointedly.

She frowned. "That's not possible. I'm sorry, but, that's absolutely not possible. It's all been arranged." She stood up and came around her desk and took my hands in hers, looking at me kindly. "Tenleigh, you won this. It's yours. I know," she bit her lip, "well, I know sometimes it's hard to accept things when you're not used to having a lot, but please, dear Tenleigh, let yourself feel happiness and pride in this. You did it. You did all the work involved to win this. You deserve it. It's yours."

My shoulders sagged, but I nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Branson." I got up and walked out of her office. Yes, I earned it, but I no longer wanted it. It had to go to Kyland. He needed this more than I did.

I left school and fast-walked all the way back to Dennville. This wasn't right. I wouldn't leave him. We'd make other plans. I didn't want to leave Kentucky. I didn't want to go to college. I wanted Kyland's love and I wouldn't let it go, not for a college education, not for anything. I wouldn't. It was foolish, but I didn't care. The only thing I wanted in this world was him. Near the base of our hill, I stopped and sat down on a rock on the side of the dirt road, taking a piece of paper out of my backpack, and scrawling out a quick list. Then I got up and ran the rest of the way.

I was huffing and sweaty when I got to Kyland's door and pounded on it. He had left the assembly, so surely he'd come back here? I heard footsteps and waited. After a minute, he opened his door slowly, staring out at me. I stared back at him, my breath coming out in ragged exhales.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

He smiled stiffly and opened it wider, inviting me inside. He still hadn't spoken.

When he closed the door behind me and I turned to him, I couldn't help it, I burst into tears. He moved toward me instantly and wrapped me in his arms. "Shh, Tenleigh, why are you crying? I'm so proud of you. You earned this. You earned it." He pulled back and smoothed my hair away from my face. "You're going to go to college." He smiled and it looked sincere and tender—proud. It made me cry harder. I shook my head.

"I don't want to go to college," I said. "I want you to go to college."

He pulled back as if I'd slapped him. "Well, that's not the way it happened. It just didn't. You're going to go—and you're going to get an education. You're going to get out of here, Tenleigh. You're going to have such a beautiful life—a life filled with books and nice clothes, and a house that's heated in the winter, a car, and plenty of food in your refrigerator. You're going to see the ocean." His voice was filled with passion . . . and heartbreak. My own heart felt like it was bleeding in my chest and my eyes filled with tears.

"Kyland," I went toward him and put my hand on his cheek, "I don't care about any of that. I want . . . I want you. I know the last few weeks have been . . . tense, but we can get back to the way it was. I know we can. And I already have books. If I'm cold, we'll warm each other. If I'm hungry, we'll find a way just like we always have." Hope gripped me. Love, that's what I wanted. And I was willing to fight for it. I was willing to be a fool for it. Suddenly, I realized, nothing on this whole earth was more important than love. I moved closer to him. "We'll both get jobs somewhere—who cares where—and we'll rent a little house, we'll plant a garden." My voice rose as I pictured it, the words spilling out faster and faster. I realized I sounded desperate, but I didn't care. I grabbed my backpack and took the list out that I'd written on the side of the road. "I made a list," I said hopefully. "All the things we'll need to save up for before we can move into town. Sometimes writing things down, you know, makes it easier to picture, makes it seem more possible." I glanced down at the piece of paper, shaking in my trembling grasp. "I figure it'll only take us . . ." My words faded away when I noticed Kyland was looking at me with deep pity in his eyes. I stopped talking and his look of pity turned to anger. I dropped my arms, the piece of paper floating to the floor forlornly.

"Don't you dare even say that, Tenleigh," Kyland gritted out. "You have a chance here, a chance at a real life, and you'd turn it down for a shitty little existence with me? Both of us struggling and scrimping and going without until we both hated each other?"