Bab 45: Gracie

　　Stupid me. Stupid tears. Stupid Asher. Stupid Ben. Stupid feelings. I pat my pockets for my keys, I need to leave this stupid place. My search comes up empty and my feet grind to a halt. Come on.

　　I march in the direction I came from, speedwalking to the small gate. The first place I check is the bleacher. Nothing. I pat my pockets again, refusing to believe I have lost my key. It was here with me.

　　How do I get home? It’s getting late. My phone is in the car. I look up to the sky and groan. This is all Ben’s fault. I start the sad journey to my car, head cast down, arms wrapped around myself. I don’t know the first thing about picking locks. I don’t even have a bobby pin. The early November chill air hits me, the tip of my nose reddens as I shuffle to my car. I bump into someone, almost falling down for the second time today and my head snaps up.