I even release my anger toward my mother.

The only thing I’m going to hold on to from this point forward are the good things.

I may not be ending the summer with Samson by my side, but I’m ending it with something I didn’t have when I showed up here.

A family.

THIRTY

My roommate is a girl from Los Angeles. Her name is Cierra with a C.

We get along okay, but I’m trying to stay focused on school and volleyball, so I haven’t hung out with her outside of our dorm room. Other than when we’re both in here doing homework or sleeping, I don’t see her much. It’s weird how I lived across the hall from Sara for a summer and saw her more than I see the person living in the same room with me now.

I miss Sara, even though we text every day. So do my father and I.

None of us discuss Samson, though. Not since that morning I decided to come to Pennsylvania. I need everyone to believe that I’ve moved on, but I’m not sure how to. I think about him all the time. I’ll see something or hear something and feel an intense need to tell him about it. But I can’t because he’s made sure to cut off any form of communication I could have with him.

I wrote him one letter and it was returned to me. I cried that entire afternoon, but decided not to write him after that.

His court hearing was this morning. Based on all the charges, he’s looking at several years of potential prison time. I’ve been waiting by my phone all day for a phone call from Kevin.

That’s all I’ve been doing. Staring at my phone. Waiting. I finally get tired of it and dial Kevin’s number. I know he said he’d call me after Samson’s sentencing, but maybe he got held up. I look behind me to make sure Cierra is still in the shower and then sit up straight on my bed when Kevin answers.

“I was about to call you.”

“What happened?”

Kevin sighs, and I feel all the weight of Samson’s sentence in that sigh. “Good news and bad news. We were able to get the breaking and entering charges downgraded to trespassing. But they wouldn’t budge on the arson charge because of the security footage.”

My arm is wrapped tightly around my stomach. “How long, Kevin?”

“Six years. But he’ll likely get out in four.”

I press my hand to my forehead and drop my head between my shoulders. “Why so long? That’s so long.”

“It could have been much worse. He was facing ten years for the arson alone. Had he not already violated parole in the past, he probably would have been slapped on the wrist. But this isn’t his first offense, Beyah.”

“But did you explain to the judge why he violated parole? He had no money. How can they expect people to pay parole fees when they have no money?”

“I know it’s not the news you wanted, but it’s better than it could have been.”

I’m so upset. I honestly didn’t think he would be sentenced to that much time. “Rapists get less time than he did. What is wrong with our judicial system?”

“Everything. You’re in college. Maybe you should become a lawyer and do something about it.”

Maybe I will. I haven’t declared a major yet and nothing pisses me off more than thinking of all the people who fell through the cracks. “What prison are they sending him to?”

“Huntsville, Texas.”

“Do you have a mailing address for him?”

I can hear Kevin’s hesitation over the phone. “He doesn’t want visitors. Or mail. My name is the only one on his list besides my mother’s.”

I figured as much. Samson is going to be stubborn about this until the day he’s out. “I’m calling you every month until he’s released. But please call me first if there are any changes, or if he gets out early on parole. Anything at all. Even if he’s moved to a different location.”

“Can I give you a piece of advice, Beyah?”

I roll my eyes, waiting for another lecture from someone else who doesn’t know Samson at all.

“If you were my daughter, I’d tell you to move on. You’re putting too much effort into this guy, and no one knows him well enough to know if he’s worth that kind of energy.”

“What if Samson was your son?” I ask him. “Would you want everyone to just give up on him?”

Kevin sighs heavily before saying, “Point taken. Guess I’ll talk to you next month.”

He ends the call. I set my phone down on the dresser, completely disappointed. Helpless.

“You have a boyfriend in jail?”

I spin around at the sound of Cierra’s voice. My first instinct is to lie to her because that’s what I’ve always done. Hide my truth from everyone around me. I don’t think that’s who I want to be anymore, though.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. Just someone I care about.”

Cierra faces the mirror and holds a shirt up to her chest. “Good. Because there’s a party tonight and I want you to come. There will be so many guys there.” She tosses the shirt aside and holds up another one. “And girls too, if that’s what you prefer.”

I stare at Cierra as she watches herself in the mirror. There’s anticipation in her eyes and very little damage. She’s who I wish I could be right now. Someone excited for the fun parts of college life and not at all weighed down by the things she might have had to overcome to get here.

It hasn’t felt fair of me to have fun when Samson is stuck behind bars, so all I’ve done since I arrived on campus is study and play volleyball and research ways to break people out of prison.

No amount of moping is going to change Samson’s fate. And even though he’s cut off communication with me, I know exactly why he’s done it. He knows I’ll be too focused and worried about him if I stay in constant contact with him. I can’t be angry at him for that.

And when I can’t stay angry at him, how am I supposed to forget him?

No one will change Samson’s mind, though. I know that for a fact, because if the roles were reversed, I’d want the exact same things he wants for me.

I understand his intentions in every part of me. How would he react if he found out I spent my entire time in college as depressed and alone as I was in high school?

He would be so disappointed if I wasted these years.

I can either choose to stick to a lonely road of hope that may never be met, or I can figure out who I am while I’m in this setting.

What version of myself can I be while I’m here?

I run my index fingers under my eyes. I’m emotional for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I feel like I have to truly release myself of Samson in this moment or he’ll weigh me down for the next several years of my life. I don’t want that. And neither does he.

“Whoa,” Cierra says, spinning around to look at me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You don’t have to go.”

I smile at her. “No, I want to. I want to go to a party with you. I think I might be a fun person.”

Cierra pushes her bottom lip out like my words just made her sad. “Of course you’re fun, Beyah. Here.” She tosses me the shirt she was holding. “This color will look better on you.”

I stand up and hold the shirt up to myself. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I can feel the sadness inside of me, but I don’t see it on my face. I’ve always been good at hiding what I’m feeling.