by Emma Scott
“I don’t know. No, I… Fuck, I’m such an asshole. Because no matter what, this will hurt her, and I don’t want that. I never wanted that. I only went to someone else because I needed to try to move on. Because I thought you and I were impossible. And maybe we are.”
I hunched deeper in the blanket, fending off the chill morning air and the cold finality of his words.
He looked up at me, and it tore my heart in two to see his hazel eyes shining. “You were right all along. We can’t get this right. It’s fucking everything up.”
Without another word, he gathered his guitar case, and his jacket.
“Miller, wait,” I said. “You can’t just run out every time we touch and kiss and feel the depth of it all. I know it’s a lot. It’s a lot for me too—”
“No?” He laughed bitterly. “That’s what people do, Vi. They run away. Even you, eventually.”
“What?” I scrambled to my feet. “Why would you say that?”
But he turned his back on me.
“Come on, it’s time to go,” he said, his voice cold and empty. Unrecognizable. “We’re done here.”
Chapter Fifteen
I walked the difficult path from the Shack, Violet behind me. I listened for signs that she was struggling over the rocks or had lost a shoe in the sucking sand since we weren’t talking. Not a word.
Her car was parked along a side street near the path down. I waited until she was safely inside. Tires screeched as Violet peeled away in her white Rav 4 and left me in a dissipating cloud of gasoline fumes. The last thing I saw was her face through the window. Shut down. Guarded.
What did you expect?
I ruined us the first time I kissed her. I’d demolished our friendship, and now neither one of us knew what to do with each other. I didn’t know what to do with the rush of feelings that swamped me every time we touched. Every kiss like a door opening to another life that was too fucking good. I’d been wanting her for so long, keeping her in my love songs where I got to say how it turned out.
But every time the fantasy came close to reality, my old fears came roaring back. Since Mom and I were left to fend for ourselves, I’d pulled my hate for my dad around me like a suit of armor, building strength out of the helplessness and fear. I’d promised myself I would always be the one who left before anyone could leave me. Always.
But watching Violet drive away, I didn’t feel strong. Watching her go was like waking up from a dream that fades away before you can catch it.
You’re running out of chances to make things right.
If I was going to make anything right, I had to start with Amber. I pulled out my phone. Can we talk? Today?
I started to walk home, and the reply came a few minutes later. UR breaking up with me.
It wasn’t a question.
Meet me at the bench after school?
I take that as a ‘yes.’ Sure. Fine. CU then.
I blew air out my cheeks and tucked my phone away. I had enough time to eat and take my insulin, but it was too late to shower and change. I had to go to school and break up with Amber, smelling like Violet.
My jackassery knows no bounds…
After a day of classes that felt like an eternity, I went to the bench at the periphery of the main quad. The same bench where I’d sat with Violet the day Homecoming votes were cast. Amber was already waiting for me.
“Hey,” I said, sitting beside her.
She glanced me up and down. “You look like hell. Is this actually difficult for you? Or were you up all night doing something else? With someone else?”
“I had a late night I didn’t sleep with anyone, but I—”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she said bitterly. “I’m surprised you haven’t joined a monastery by now. Or come out of the closet.”
I scrubbed a hand through my hair. For Amber, one of my many failings in our “relationship” was my refusal to have sex with her. But my heart and body belonged to someone else, and no matter how many days and weeks and months had piled up, that never changed.
Amber threw up her hands. “Hello? You can’t even break up with me without zoning out.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“So this is it, huh? I’m shocked,” she said in a deadpan voice. “Shocked, I tell you. This is my shocked face.”
“Amber…”
“What happened? What was the final straw?”
“What do you mean?”
“Be serious. You always had one foot out the door. Getting you to spend time with me was nearly impossible, and when you did, you never wanted to mess around. You hardly ever kissed me unless you’d had a few beers. So? Why now?”
“I kissed someone else,” I said.
Amber’s jaw stiffened. “This story just gets better and better. Who?”
“Violet McNamara.”
“Just once? Or have you been cheating on me for a while?”
“Just once. Last night.”
But that wasn’t even true. I’d always been with Violet, since the day we met.
Amber was glaring at me. “You sure move fast, don’t you? But not fast enough. You should have broken up with me before you kissed another girl.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It just happened. That’s no excuse. I put myself in the position…”
Wrapped around Violet. That’s my position. And I never want to leave.
“I’ve been an asshole.”
Amber sighed, some of the sharp aggression draining from her voice. “No, you haven’t. That’s just it. You’re actually a good guy trying to do the right thing. But we went too far Homecoming night, and you’ve been trying to make up for it since. I’m not stupid, you know. I know you felt roped in.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to try.”
“Try? Try me on for size? Like a girlfriend coat to see if I would fit?”
“No.”
Yes. Maybe.
“I liked you, Amber,” I said. “I do like you. But—”
“You love her.”
“Why do you think that?” I asked pathetically.
“I saw Evelyn’s vlog. Shiloh told me that Violet took the original video of you singing ‘All I’ll Ever Want.’ The way you looked at her when you sang it… That wasn’t for her, right? After Chance’s party, you never sang to me again.”
I hadn’t sung for Amber at Chance’s party either, but no sense in making things worse. I felt like shit enough as it was that I let this go on so long. A charade. An act so tedious, even Amber was tired of it.
“I’m sorry, Amber. I really am. For what it’s worth, I never meant to hurt you.”
“Famous last words.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Okay, so I guess that’s it. Just do me one favor.”
“Anything.”
“Give me some time before you start walking the halls with Violet, okay?”
“I will. Doubt that would happen soon anyway. I have to get my shit together.” I smiled thinly. “Don’t need to tell you that.”
“No, you don’t.” Amber’s stiff face softened. “I thought I’d be more hurt. And I am. I’m not letting you off the hook.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But when you sent me that text this morning, I felt almost relieved.” She shot me a dry look. “Miller Stratton, you’re like a gentleman sharing a brain with an asshole.”
I laughed a little. “Accurate.”
The asshole was born the day my father left. But Amber didn’t need to hear any more excuses.
“And I have a confession,” she said. “I got a little wrapped up in the idea of you and me. Of you being this famous musician and me being the girl in your love songs. So maybe I hung around a little bit longer than I should have. But that doesn’t mean you should’ve kissed someone else.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’ll always regret that.”
I regretted the timing. I could never regret kissing Violet. Even when it blew us apart.
Amber heaved a sigh. “O
kay, you look contrite enough. I gotta go.” She shouldered her embroidered bag. “When you do get your shit together, make sure you give Violet more of your gentleman and less of your asshole.”
I held up a hand. “I will do my best to give her less of my asshole.”
She burst out with a laugh. “See you around, Stratton.”
“Hey, Amber.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being cool.”
She smiled thinly, gave a little wave, and walked away.
I slumped on the bench, relief and regret gusting out of me. Relief that I ended it, regret that it took me so long.
A few days later, I was on the same bench, reading Tender is the Night, when Evelyn Gonzalez approached.
“Hey, you. What you’re doing?” She glanced at the cover of my book. “Fitzgerald. That’s not on our assigned list.”
“I know. I’m reading it because I want to.”
“Aren’t you just the perfect, sensitive artist-type.”
I sighed. “What do you want, Evelyn?”
“You.” She laughed at my dark expression. “Relax. It’s purely business. We need to get to work on your next video. The last one was great but I have some fresh ideas that I want to run by you tonight.”
“You know I can only do Sundays.”
“This Sunday is no good. It has to be tonight.”
“I can’t. I have work after school at the arcade.”
“After, then.”
“It’ll be late. Like ten o’clock.”
“That works.” She looked at me from under lowered lashes. “And if you get tired, you’re welcome to stay over.”
“Evelyn…”
“Oh my God, I’m kidding. You’re such a grouch.” She got up, straightened her tight skirt. “Ten o’clock, Stratton. Don’t be late. We have to strike now, while you’re hot and getting hotter. Musically, speaking.” She blew me a kiss and strode off, ponytail swinging.
I didn’t want to go to Evelyn’s and make another video. I wanted to go to Violet. I wanted to climb up the trellis like I always did and play for her. Then kiss her and not run out the door but stay. Hold her and sleep with her. No sex, just sleep. Like I did the night four years ago when she found out where I’d been living.
But I’d promised to give Amber some time and I was fairly sure Violet was sick of my shit by now. Running hot and cold, but mostly just running.
After school, I went home and took a quick shower before work. Chet was there, as usual, demanding to know where I go every night and getting pissed when I refused to tell him.
“If you were my son…” he warned.
“I’m not,” I shot back, “so mind your own fucking business.”
I let the door slam, anger burning my skin. If Dad hadn’t left, Mom and I wouldn’t have had to deal with Chet fucking Hyland. We wouldn’t be living in a shithole apartment after living in a car. If he were still around, I wouldn’t be such a fucking mess. I could be the guy Violet deserved.
At the arcade, I spent hours watching tourists plunk quarters in machines or play Skee-Ball for shitty plastic prizes. In a sea of noise, the Pac-Man game seemed the loudest. Over and over, the ghosts trapped Pac-Man and then came the down-the-drain sound effect of his demise.
I have to get the fuck out of here.
So I took the bus to Evelyn’s large white, two-story house. It loomed ghostly and quiet in the night. As usual, I texted her I was there, and she let me in, guiding me through the house’s clean, warm space; smiling family photos hung on every wall.
Her bedroom walls were covered in collages of lips, eyes, and clothes cut out from magazines, and sketches of outfits that I guessed she had done. I didn’t give a shit about fashion, but I recognized talent when I saw it.
“You smell like popcorn,” Evelyn said, fussing over me.
“Hazard of the job.”
“Ha! You’re cute.” She ran her fingers through my hair.
“Is that necessary?”
“I’m trying to recreate that look you had in the first video. When you took your beanie off and ran your hands through your hair. If I had a dollar for every commenter who told me that maneuver set their panties on fire…” She tapped a nail to her chin. “Come to think of it, I do get paid when that happens.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said, “do I get a cut, or did I go from giving my shit away for free on the internet to giving it away to you?”
“I told you, we’ll work all that out later.”
“You said you had demands for helping me.”
“I do. In due time.”
She looped a bone horn necklace with a leather string around my neck.
“Is this necessary too?”
“It goes with the leather man-bracelets you wear on your wrists,” she said. “Draws attention to your forearms. Very hot. The necklace will do the same for your chest and neck.”
She moved in front of me, bending over to scrutinize me, her hands in my hair again. I was afforded a view of her breasts pushing out of her top. She caught me looking and a slow smile spread over her lips.
“You’re looking at me.” Her hands slipped down my chest, palms flat. “Do you like what you see?”
“Evelyn, stop…” I caught hold of her wrists and took them off of me.
“What’s wrong? I don’t see you with Amber anymore. Or any girl for that matter.” She smiled and moved in closer, her knee resting on the chair between my legs. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun.”
I stood up gently and pushed her away. “Is this what you meant by your demand? The cost for your help?”
Her dark eyes widened, the heat in them turning cold. “What do you take me for, some kind of prostitute? You think I’d trade sex for a favor?”
“No,” I said, flustered. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. But what the hell are you doing?”
“What I’m doing is helping you get your music out there.”
“You know what I mean.” My phone chimed a text. “Fuck. Just…hold on.”
I moved to the other side of the room. The text was from Shiloh.
I just heard. Violet’s at UCSC Medical. Head injury. They won’t tell me more.
Every molecule in my body turned to stone. It felt as if the floor had dropped out, sucking my heart down with it.
My fingers trembled as I typed. On my way.
Evelyn pouted. “What’s wrong?”
Frantically, I threw on my jacket, chucked my guitar into its case, and shouldered the strap. “I gotta go.”
“Now? We haven’t shot the video. What happened?”
“Violet. Something… I don’t know. I gotta go,” I said again and raced out, my pulse thundering. Evelyn called after me, but I barely heard her.
There were few buses at this hour, and I couldn’t afford to wait one fucking second. My phone said the UCSC Medical Center was one and a half miles away. A thirty-minute walk.
The words head injury kept flashing in my head like ambulance sirens, then I began to run.
Chapter Sixteen
One day earlier…
They had arrived.
My hands trembled slightly as I took four envelopes from the rest of the mail. My eyes scanned the return addresses: Baylor, Georgetown, UCSF, and UC Santa Cruz. Acceptance or rejection letters.
My heart was pounding as I took the mail into the kitchen. It had been several days since the bonfire at the Shack and Miller hadn’t contacted me once. Miller’s words chased my every waking hour and followed me into my sleep.
Maybe we’re impossible.
We’re done here.
Maybe we were done before we’d started. The enormity of it stole my breath whenever I thought of it. So, I didn’t. When my thoughts went to Miller—which was every other minute—I shut them down. Closed my heart. I had been right all along. Every time Miller and I touched or kissed, we blew apart. Like magnets, drawn together at one polarity, thrusting away at the other.
And maybe his feelings fo
r Amber went deeper than I suspected. Why else wouldn’t he have at least called me to tell me what he was thinking?
I could have asked Shiloh but I didn’t want a relationship like that ‘telephone’ game, where everything comes second hand. But uncertainty was maddening. I’d been a fool to break the promises I’d made to myself and now the heartache was too much. I had to outrun it, out-study it, out-prepare it so that when the next phase of my life began—contained in one of the four envelopes on my kitchen counter—I’d be ready for it. Stronger.
Late afternoon sun filled our spacious kitchen. I was dressed in my pajamas, my hair still damp after a shower. I’d had a hard soccer practice where my coach and teammates were shocked at my aggressive play. Get used to it, I wanted to tell them. I had to kick and run until the hurt was pummeled and burned out of me, or I’d collapse and cry.
And I’m not going to be that girl anymore.
I sat at the kitchen counter and opened the envelopes one by one. Baylor: accepted.
Georgetown: accepted. UCSF: accepted.
Joy and pride swept through me. None of these universities were easy to get into, so my odds for UCSC were good. Even so, I held my breath as I tore open that last envelope.
If I got in, I could stay in the city I loved, surrounded by forests and ocean…
Dear Miss McNamara,
Our board of professionally-trained Admissions readers have conducted an in-depth review of your academic and personal achievements and feel you have a demonstrated capacity to contribute to the intellectual and cultural life at UCSC. Congratulations! Accept your offer of admission through our online portal no later than the May 1 deadline…
“I did it. Holy shit…”
The paper wafted to the floor, and I clapped a hand to my mouth. For the first time in months, I felt something other than stomach-churning tension and heartache. All of the late nights studying, the college prep units I’d worked so hard to complete, volunteering at the hospital and with Nancy, the SAT and ACT scores I’d stressed over…it had all paid off.
Dad came home looking harried and exhausted: rumpled shirt, tie askew.
