Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

CHAPTER ONE

    Broken Hearts and Coffee Mugs (Alex)

    From the moment I put my mom’s car in drive, my coffee mug still on the roof, I could tell it was going to be a rough day. The mug, which had been a cute gift from Dylan, went flying off the car and smashed into a million pieces. I gasped as I saw it spinning in the rearview mirror, falling in what seemed like slow motion until it hit the street, splattering my coffee and tiny pieces of porcelain across the road.
    My eyes pricked into painful tears. Even though it had been more than six months since we’d spoken, even though he’d broken my heart, even though he’d refused all contact and ignored my letters, it still hurt.
    I pulled to the side and took a deep breath. Dylan bought the mug from a vendor in Jerusalem, who had printed it right on the spot from a digital photo: the two of us together, holding each other as we stood waist deep in the Mediterranean Sea. In the photo, I had an astonishingly vacant expression on my face as we gazed into each other’s eyes. In retrospect, I looked, and felt, as if I was on drugs.
    Of course, Kelly had been telling me for six months it was time to get rid of the mug. Time to move on. Time to forget about Dylan.
    I took a deep breath. Kelly was right. Yes, we’d had some problems. Yes, I’d gotten drunk, and said some things I regretted. But nothing unforgivable. Nothing that warranted his disappearing off the face of the planet.
    I looked in the mirror and quickly repaired the damage from my involuntary tears, then put the car into drive. In two days, I was flying back to New York and my second year in college, and I’d damned well get a new coffee mug. I would just add that to the lengthy, overly detailed to-do list my mother had oh-so-helpfully provided, which was now sitting on the passenger seat of the car. New coffee mug. One that didn’t have my past stamped all over it. Kelly would be proud.
    I started to put the car into drive, but my phone chose that instant to ring, and I’m not very good at ignoring it, so I left mom’s car in park and answered the phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Is this Alexandra Thompson?”
    “Yes, this is Alex,” I said.
    “Hello. This is Sandra Barnhardt from the financial aid office.”
    “Oh,” I said, suddenly tense. Some people you don’t want calls from the day before school starts, and the financial aid office was way up at the head of that list.
    “Um… what can I do for you?”
    “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Professor Allan is going on leave of absence, so your work study assignment has been cancelled.”
    Indefinite leave of absence? My guess was Professor Allan was going into rehab. I was pretty sure she was a cokehead my first day working for her. Whatever.
    “So, um… what exactly does that mean?”
    “Well… the good news is, we’ve got you a new assignment.”
    I couldn’t wait to hear this. No doubt I’d be scrubbing pots in one of the dining halls. I waited, and then waited some more. “Um… maybe you could tell me what the assignment is?”
    Sandra Barnhardt from the financial office coughed, possibly a little embarrassed.
    “This is all last minute, you understand. But our author-in-residence this year has requested two research assistants. You’ll be working for him.”
    “Oh… I see. Well, at least that sounds interesting.”
    “I hope so,” she said. “Are you already back on campus?”
    “No, I’m in San Francisco; I fly back day after tomorrow.”
    “Oh. Well, then. Stop by when you get back, and I’ll get you the information about the assignment.”
    “Great,” I said. “See you in a couple days.”
    Okay. I’ll admit. It really did sound interesting. Author-in-residence. What exactly did that mean, anyway? Whatever it was, it had to be more interesting than doing Professor Allan’s filing.
    Whatever. I’d better get moving, I thought, or the cops would be along to move me along. I’d been sitting in front of someone’s driveway for nearly ten minutes.
    I pulled the car out to finish my errands. Time to get supplied for the new year. Starting with a new coffee mug.

    ***
    “ Alex! ”
    Kelly’s cry was somewhere around 125 decibels and somewhere in the upper reaches of pitch possible to the human voice. That was compounded by the fact that she was bouncing up and down, as if she had tiny pogo sticks, or possibly jackhammers, attached to her feet.
    She bounced over to me and grabbed me in a huge hug.
    “Oh. My.