~24~

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open.

~Chuck Palahniuk~

Things haven't been easy lately.

Dad has been irritable, Mom's been awkwardly trying to keep the tension to a minimum, I have a semi-working plan that involves doing exactly what I want, and I'm anxious about the after-school meeting with our dads and my mom.

And then Mr. Salzman has just reminded me of the talk we had a while ago—the one where he asked me if I could convince my mom to let us hold an informational night at her place of work.

I really shouldn't have agreed to help him out.

I'm kicking myself for trying to play Wonder Woman once again. The word is no, Bonnie and you need to learn it.

But I already dug myself into a hole, something I only remember when my teacher approaches me in the hallway, nervous grin wavering slightly when we make eye contact.

Crap. I have a flashback to the conversation we had last month and am hit with the realization that he is coming to collect on a promise that I am not able to fulfill. I wonder if he let his teacherly responsibilities slip his mind—it certainly looks that way with the jittery manner in which he is moving.

I close my locker door. "Hi, Mr. Salzman!"

"Bonnie," he beams. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," I answer, though that isn't entirely true. I feel guilty because he stood up for me when he heard the rude comments his colleagues were making. But does that obligate me to spearhead his project?

Probably.

"Have you spoken to your mother about the history night?"

I hesitate, unsure of what to say. "… no, Mr. Salzman. I'm sorry. It's been a stressful few weeks."

"Oh," his face falls. "I see."

"… I really am sorry. The exhibition got pushed back," a lie, but it's the only excuse I could come up with. "I can't help you with the venue."

"Alright," he says, but it's clear he doesn't mean it.

"The gymnasium would be a good substitute."

"Would you be willing to help organize it still?" he's hopeful.

I bite my lip. I'm going to have to start practicing my assertiveness soon if I want to have a snowball's chance in hell of selling my idea to three very stubborn people. "No, I can't. I'm sorry… I really am I should have never said I could help… I've got a lot going on right now."

"I understand," says Mr. Saltzman, but he looks crestfallen.

I ignore the emotional pull, the tugging in my chest, urging me to recant. "Thank you. I really am. I know some freshman that are trying to get on the dance committee, I'm sure they'd be willing to help."

"Good thinking. I'll look into it."

I nod.

The guilt isn't as overwhelming as it usually is. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can put my feelings into words… I will be able to do so when it comes time for me to voice my thoughts.

I'm still on this high when I meet up with Caroline and Elena.

Care scans my face. "You look… not stressed."

"I did it," I tell them excitedly.

"Did what?" Elena asks. "Are you alright? Do you need to go to the nurse?" I get déjà vu when she touches my cheek with the back of her hand.

"No!" I cheer. "And that's what I did—told someone no!"

"Who, what, when, where, and why?" Care inquires. She doesn't believe me, which I guess I can understand, as I don't often turn away anyone who needs help.

"Mr. Saltzman, he wanted me to plan a history night, at my mom's museum, and because I have more important things to do."

"Alright!" she gives me a high-five. "Look at you, you're putting yourself first for once!"

"I am. I'm also going to put my foot down with Rudy and Abby—I'm going to go to Whitmore and I'm not going to torture myself with multiple chemistry courses!"

Caroline's curls bounce up and down as she jumps and squeals happily. "You're going to be with us?"

"If I can pull everything off, then yeah. It's what I want."

She nearly tackles me when she pulls me in a tight hug. Elena joins in, but thankfully she's not nearly as over-zealous.

"It'll be good for us," the brunette says with total conviction.

"Hell, yeah it will!"

"Do you think they'll go for it?"

I sigh. "No, but I'm not going to give them much of a choice. I've got to get some paperwork together and I'll apply for a scholarship… join the dance team. Hopefully, I won't need their approval. If I can cover the majority of the cost, I won't need the help."

"You and Damon are really doing this?" Elena asks, and while she doesn't seem overjoyed by the prospect, she doesn't sound all that upset either.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, it'll be mainly me when he leaves…" the thought genuinely terrifies me, but there aren't many options that will give me what I want, and I won't always be alone…. And, it'll be hard, but it'll get less difficult with time.

I hope.

"Well, she won't just have Damon for support—I fully intend to spoil our niece."

Elena smiles despite herself. "Me, too."

"Thank you… both of you," I make sure to give Elena an extra nod (just so she understands how much that means coming from her).

"You're welcome," Caroline says as she shoves a piece of blush pink cardstock into my hands.

"What's this?" I ask, looking down at it.

It's decorated with rattles and bows, the font a curly script that matches Caroline's loopy handwriting perfectly.

It reads:

Baby Shower
On: January 17th
Time: whenever Caroline and Elena get done decorating until all official sleepover rituals have been completed the following day
Place: Bonnie's bedroom (and yes, there will be a banner hanging above your bed)
RSVP: there isn't a need—you have no choice but to let Caroline and Elena shower you with love
*No complaints—or else you will have to watch every one of Caroline's favorite movies

"This invite sounds a little like a threat."

"It is," Caroline says, tone serious despite her jovial facial expression. "And it's two weeks from now; so, no excuses. Your schedule is clear."

"How do you know that?"

"I looked at your phone when you were puking that decaf coffee up yesterday morning."

"First—that's weird and creepy. Second—you made this in a single night?" I wave the card around.

As far as party invitations go, this one is the nicest, most intricate one I've ever seen. Granted, it's only a singular card—I hope, as Caroline tends to overdo it with the party planning (and I wouldn't have put it past her to make Elena her own with personalized instructions attached).

The one I'm holding has a thick, hot pink bow on the top, the rattle adornments are three-dimensional ones that probably took a certain glue type and ratio to stick. The polka-dots and bows look to have been individually cut out and pasted, and the information painstakingly written in a careful hand.

"You know I'm a master with a glue gun."

"A crazy person with a glue gun," I correct.

"I told her she could just text all of that to you, but she wouldn't listen." Elena groans.

"Thank you for trying at least…"

"And, since you want to call me crazy," Care goes on as if Elena never said a word. "Damon's the crazy one. He texts you some weird things… is a Vulcan some kind of convoluted code word for a sex act?"

"No, but sometimes I wish it was," I mutter. "Unless Chris Pine's got anything to do with it."

"That's definitely dirty," she decides.

"Fine. It's dirty." There's no use in arguing with Caroline Forbes when she makes her mind up.

"Knew it… now are you going to tell us the details or are you going to make me read you every definition on Urban Dictionary?"

"No, it's fine, I'll tell you—I've kept my breakfast down so far. Please don't push it."

"Another win for me!"

"Just wait… you might not think that when I'm done."

"We'll see about that!"

Well, I'll be seeing about many things today, what's one more gamble?