- chapter one;
If words could describe my anguish, they’d be the long kind that even teachers struggle to spell. They’d be the ones that end sharply and make you blink in surprise. The words that make tears stream down even the palest of faces.
“How are you,” you asked me, your voice smooth as silk. I wanted to draw back my arm and leave a stinging mark on your cheek, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you, even though you hurt me. So I just told you “I’ve been better” and shoved past. I didn’t turn to see the confused and sad look that I know lingered in your eyes; I know you well.
I wish time could turn back. I wish you could hold me in your arms again and press your lips to mine and tell me everything will be all right, because right now, it’s not. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see that image of us running through the wheat field, holding hands and laughing. I miss those days.
Is it bad that sometimes I hope that you wake up and miss them too?
I lay my pencil down finally, and my eyes drift to find Conner out of habit. He's already looking at me, though, and I avert my eyes to the board, where Ms. Eastwood is putting up something in her messy writing. As she steps to the side, I read the words to myself.
"Homecoming?" I can't stop myself, and the minute the word leaves my lips, all eyes are on me. I feel my throat constrict as they watch me, and offer them a small smile. In one, sweeping motion, everyone turns back around, except Conner. His turquoise gaze is still locked on mine, yet I'm not intimidated. I stare back until he turns away as well, blushing.
Something about seeing him look away makes me bite my lip to hold back tears. He doesn't want to look at me? I shake my head, allowing a few loose strands of my black hair to fall over my eyes, and my fingers fly to the cuffs of my jacket sleeves. I tug them down, but my mind is elsewhere.
Who am I supposed to go to homecoming with? Conner and I just broke up, and, quite frankly, I don't want him back. Actually, that's not honest; I do want him back, but he hurt me too badly for me to be able to admit to anyone but myself. I found him in bed with my best friend, Katrina. I'm still angry at Kat, but something inside of me can't be angry at Conner for over five minutes. But I can't just forgive and forget, no, it doesn't work that way. I need to play my cards right or I'm just going to get hurt again.
The bell rings suddenly, jerking me from my thoughts. I gather my books in my arms, watching Conner from the corner of my eye. He seems to be packing incredibly slowly, and I speed up. He does too, and I narrow my eyes. Does he want to be alone together, the last two in the classroom? Sorry, Con, that isn't gonna happen, I thought to myself, and threw myself out the door. I take of running in the direction of my locker, and I can tell Conner is behind me, because I can hear him calling, "Will! Will, wait!"
I don't stop; rather, I speed up. My fingers fly to my lock, clicking it open – I never lock it – and immediately reach for my backpack. Holding it up by one strap, I stuff all of my books and papers inside, not bothering to take the ones that don't fit. I can see Conner coming around the corner, can hear his voice flowing through the halls. "Will?" It cries. "Please!"
His eyes meet mine for the second time today, and I hurriedly shuffle away, trying to blend in with the crowd of high-schoolers. Soon, the boy's voice is drowned out, and I breath a sigh of relief; I escaped.
• • •
"No, Nash, please, enlighten me," I say, grinning over at my best friend. He's propped up against the window sill, his dark brown hair in a messy, windswept style across his forehead. He's smiling back at me, and in his arm he holds his cell phone.
" 'I'd love to get together with you. Are you free Friday night?' I'm going on a date with her! With Anna Scott, the girl of my dreams! Bells, how do I reply?" He looks as if he's about to cry, and I shake my head.
My fingers dart out, closing around the small phone. Nash's mouth opens in protest, then closes again as she slides over to me, draping an arm across my shoulders and looking down at the screen. Anyone who walked in and didn't know any better would've thought we were a couple; everyone in the small town of Riverfall, Virginia knew we were just close friends, though, so that wouldn't happen, anyway.
Anna, I typed, I'm free on Friday. c: Why don't I come over and pick you up from your house? Send me the address. Nash's hands tighten around me, and I can feel his chin bump my shoulder twice as he nods. I raise my finger, and tap send lightly, then toss the phone away from me and shut my eyes. Nash's arms relax and he pulls me to his chest, running his hand through my black hair.
"Why would anyone ever want to hurt you?" he asks quietly, and I squeeze my eyes tighter shut; the tears will make their way down my cheeks if I don't. So I just curl up in my best friend's arms, my breathing even with his.
I open my eyes, and his black ones burn into my own with an intensity that can only be described as fiery. "I don't know," I whisper. "I guess I'm just not good enough."
