xviii. FROSTED WINDOWS

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN!( FROSTED WINDOWS

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN!
( FROSTED WINDOWS. )






   YOU HAD BEEN forced to pack up your things and leave Welton without a chance to say goodbye to your friends. Your father couldn't comprehend your actions at all, or more to the point, he didn't try to.

You leaned against one of the long windows in your house, staring at the frost on the glass. You'd only been home for a day, but it felt like way longer. It was too quiet here, the quiet felt cold. Not just in temperature, the silence was colder than the frost on the window.

After your father took you into his office and spoke with you about the expulsion like any other business matter, he decided to ground you. That meant no outside contact until they sorted out your schooling arrangements. He also made sure that you knew that you were to never speak to Charlie again. He didn't even know that you guys were dating, but he was sure that being in close quarters with both Keating and Charlie was the cause of his daughter's rebellion.

Every look from your family felt like their eyes were glazed with ice. Emotionless, which was sometimes scarier than anger. This wasn't unfamiliar to you, you'd been convinced you came from a line of Abominable Snowmen for years. It just didn't feel right. You'd lost a friend, but there was never any space to grieve here, and there was never any sympathy. There was never any heartfelt conversation or even any pat on the back. There was no anger for your outburst anymore. Just cold.

You didn't have anyone to talk to anymore, you weren't allowed to use or answer the phone. You'd been standing by windows and staring at the ceiling for hours now. You didn't know where to put all the feelings so you reverted back to keeping them inside like you always had. For a moment you let yourself remember Charlie's warm brown eyes and what it felt like to hug him. What it felt like to kiss him. What it felt like for him to hold your hand and just talk to you.

You knew that you couldn't go on doing things the way you used to because Keating showed you a new way. Charlie showed you a new way that just felt so much better. So you walked over to your desk and pulled out a pen and paper. It wasn't poetry, but you just wrote. You wrote about Neil. You wrote about Keating. You wrote about how much you missed the club. How much you missed Violet. And how much you missed Charlie.

For the first time since you left Welton you let yourself cry. You wanted someone to hold you, and you wanted someone to share your sorrows with. So you just kept writing until the tears made some sentences illegible.



"You'll be going to Ridgeway High, at least for now. We've sorted out all the details with the administration. You'll be starting on Monday. You are to go to and from school every day and nowhere in between, understood?" your father did one evening over dinner.

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