GROW UP GINGER

A story about leaving and being followed.

Written by Juliana Resende

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No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — The City

Two weeks passed.

I lived in a tiny apartment on the fifth floor of a building in Gynopolis with windows that didn't quite close and a radiator that made strange noises at night. I put up photos. I bought a plant. I made it mine, slowly, the way you do when you're trying to convince yourself that you're somewhere new.

Megan came to visit on a Saturday with a housewarming gift and big eyes.

"Wow, Anna. You've really made this place your own. It feels so cozy."

"Thanks. It's been a labor of love."

We sat on the couch. She unwrapped a small candle for me. She told me about her summer — about Bruno, mostly, and about the wedding she'd gone to with Bonnie, and about Olivia's new boyfriend who was apparently insane in a way that meant Olivia was very happy.

Then she said: "Did you contact Ethan?"

I had not told her what I had seen on his phone. I had not told anyone. I had not told her about the group chat or about the engagement or about a woman called Catherine Stuart I had never met.

The real reason — the one I hated admitting — was that I felt stupid. Small and stupid and ashamed. I had been an eighteen-year-old who'd thought she was choosing a sophisticated older man, and I had instead been the summer — a thing six men called the prize in a group chat while the man's actual fiancée was waiting in Genova. I did not want to be the cousin who came home with that story. I did not want to ruin Megan's summer with what mine had actually been.

So I said: "I've been busy getting ready for classes."

"Anna."

"What?"

She studied my face. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." I tried to keep my voice light. "Just pre-college jitters."

She didn't believe me. She didn't push. That was Megan's particular gift — knowing when to push and when to wait. She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and said: "You know you can reach out to me anytime, right?"

"Yes. You're literally across the hall."

"True." She smiled, but it was thinner than usual. "Alright. I'm heading off. Let me know if you need anything."

She left.

I sat in my apartment for a long time, watching the late afternoon light move across the wall.

That night I dreamed about him.

I dreamed I was walking through a dim hallway and a voice was calling my name, soft, intimate, and I followed it to a door, and I opened the door, and Ethan was sitting on a bed waiting for me. Come closer, Anna. He took my hand. He pulled me toward him. I got you. You are MINE. I wanted to go and I did not want to go in equal measure, and the wanting was the worst part of the dream.

I woke up fainting.

I went to the window. The sun was rising over the city.

It was just a dream, I told myself.

Tomorrow is my first day of classes. I won't even see him anymore.

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