We wandered the fairgrounds for a bit, making our way inside the arena to walk around all the different displays. We came to the small stage set up with a sign that read Talent Show, Friday at 7:00 p.m.
The yearly talent show that the fair put on was nothing to write home about. Usually only friends and family came to watch people who participated, but still, it was a silly little dream of mine to sing on stage. Aubrey had been trying to get me to sign up for years, but I’d always been too scared. I bit my lip, frowning slightly as I read the words on the sign. Grayson was curiously watching me. “Were you in this or something?”
“No.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Aubrey’s been trying to get me to sign up, but…”
“But what?” Grayson tilted his head, his eyes still upon my face. He was the only person to ever look at me so intently; it was a gaze that made me want to both expose all of my secrets and melt in his presence.
“Stage fright.” I shrugged, starting to walk away. It was almost 10 p.m., and I had to meet my parents in the parking lot.
“What’s your talent?” Grayson asked, following me.
“Singing.” I blushed, feeling awkward. “Or so I’m told.”
Grayson looked back towards the stage.”So, do it then.”
“It’s not that simple,” I argued, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. I lacked the confidence to perform on stage. Any time I entertained the thought, I instantly pictured myself taking a nice face plant in front of everyone. Or worse, vomiting.
“I think you should do it,” he said. “I’d love to hear you sing.” His eyes met mine again, and my heart jumped at his sudden nearness and the sincerity in his voice.
A few moments later, we sat on the steps to the side door of the arena, waiting for my parents to pick me up.
“I had a lot of fun…thanks,” I said, smiling at him.
“Me, too.” He smiled back, leaning against the railing.
“So…do you have MSN?” I asked as I started to nervously twirl my hair around my index finger again.
“Yeah, it’s pretty easy to remember…” Grayson trailed off. “It’s ‘GraysonDixon’ at hotmail dot com.”
“Witty.” I laughed. “It’s better than mine.”
“What’s yours?”
It was my turn to blush. “PorcelainDreams,” I answered, laughing awkwardly at myself. “Lame, I know.”
“I like it.” Grayson’s lip curled upward in an intriguing smile, his eyes slowly dropping from my eyes to my lips and up again.
The air between us felt heavy, and my heart thudded loudly in my chest. Grayson leaned forward a bit, as if in a daze.
Just then, my parents pulled up in my mom’s white Hyundai Sonata.
“Okay, well…I’ll talk to you on MSN, I guess,” I said, standing up. I felt Grayson’s eyes on me as I climbed into the back seat of my parents’ car with a massive smile on my lips.
“Who was that, honey?” Mom asked, turning around to study me.
“Just…a boy.” I shrugged, schooling my features.
“Hmmpf,” Dad said, frowning deeper.
* * *
That night was the beginning of my intense friendship with Grayson Dixon. I added him to MSN as soon as I got home, not wanting to have his Hotmail account fade from my memory.
It was a few days before Grayson added me back, and a few more days passed before I got up the nerve to finally message him. After that, we chatted nearly every single night after school about anything and everything. I learned more about him, like how his parents had divorced at the end of seventh grade. He had moved into a small apartment with his mother while his dad moved in with his new girlfriend, who was pregnant.
I knew that Grayson liked to drink and smoke a lot of pot. I had always been straight-laced, terrified to do something that might get me into trouble. I normally wouldn’t have associated myself with that kind of reckless behavior, but there was something about him that inexplicably drew me in. I knew all of Grayson’s faults, he showed me every ugly color he could think of showing me, and still, instead of running I fell harder.
I didn’t know all the details of Grayson’s life, but I got the sense that he was deeply hurt over the actions of his parents. He warned me several times that he couldn’t feel the way a “normal” person could, that his emotional capability was screwed up and that he didn’t know how to connect with anyone. I didn’t believe him. I felt like we had a connection, and that connection grew every single time I saw him.
Chapter One
IT WAS THE FIRST DAY of school, but it wasn’t like any other first day of school. It was the first day of my last year of high school. Next September, I would be going off to college, along with all my friends. It was my last chance to do all the things I wanted to do, but was always too scared of.
I was wearing a pair of dark denim skinny jeans and a cute olive green V-neck top that I had gotten from my favorite department store. I loved the shirt. It gave the illusion of bigger breasts—an illusion that I desperately needed, as I was perpetually stuck in an A-cup. My long, caramel hair hung freely down my back, and I carefully applied my makeup to achieve a natural look that made my pale green eyes pop ever so slightly.
These minor, rather minuscule changes were actually a big deal for me. My go-to look was a simple jean and t-shirt ensemble with my hair tossed up into an unintentionally messy pony tail. I didn’t take time to do my hair or makeup. In fact, I hadn’t even known how to do makeup until this summer.
I had more or less given myself a makeover for the beginning of twelfth grade, both physically and emotionally. I would no longer be a wallflower. It was my year to shine.
This change was borne from getting absolutely nowhere with my crush of nearly four years. Actually, it was borne from getting absolutely nowhere with any guys at my school. I hadn’t been asked out once. I was ashamed to admit this bothered me. How stereotypical: a high school girl being overly concerned with dating?
At first, I didn’t notice. I was too focused on someone who didn’t have the slightest interest in me. When it became apparent that he didn’t return my feelings, and that nobody else did for that matter, well, my severely lacking confidence took yet another hit.
It wasn’t difficult to tell the reasoning for my lack of dates. I was perpetually shy, and I went out of my way to not stand out. I had a willowy, athletic build, lacking the curves that Cosmopolitan said drove men nuts.
I was also completely hung up on a guy who would never acknowledge me as anything but a friend.
I frowned, thinking about the last time I had spoken to Grayson. It had happened nearly three months ago, after I’d run into him at a party that my best friends had dragged me to.
I remember standing off to the corner, watching the festivities take place around me. My friends and peers dancing on the dance floor, Red Solo cups in hand as music blared through Zoe March’s speakers. I don’t even know why I’d let Aubrey, Lindsay and Alicia talk me into going; none of us actually liked Zoe March. She was popular, gorgeous, and kind of a bully, in my opinion.
Regardless, I was there, feeling very out of place as I sipped on my Pepsi and watched all my peers celebrate the freedom of summer. I wasn’t a drinker; I was too afraid the word would get back to my strict parents.
Then Grayson walked in with a couple of his friends. His eyes locked on mine and his lips curved upward in a dangerous, enticing way. As he approached me, my heart thundered frantically in my chest.
“Hey,” he said, the word somehow chilling and heating my blood at the same time. I smiled, looking away from his intense gaze.
That night, I had Grayson’s undivided attention the entire time. There was something in the way he looked at me, like I was all he could see. I had my first alcoholic beverage that night. Grayson got it for me when he grabbed one for himself. Being around him made me want to do things I had never tried before. He gave me confidence and made me want to push outside my own boundaries. He made me want to experi
ence things that I was too scared to experience otherwise.
My tolerance was rather pathetic. I got buzzed quickly, and my confidence grew with each look we exchanged.
Feeling bolder than ever, I dragged Grayson out onto the dance floor, provocatively moving my hips against him the way I’d seen all the other girls dancing.
The tension between us zapped and sizzled, and I turned to face him. He was looking down at me with an unreadable expression on his face, his hands still lightly squeezing my hips and his face close to mine. I could smell the vodka on his breath.
I had wanted more than anything to feel his lips on mine. He brought them close to mine and I held my breath, thinking I would finally know what it felt like to be kissed. At the last moment, he pulled away, as if awakening from a trance.
“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he muttered. It seemed like I blinked and he had disappeared completely into the sea of bodies.
That night, after returning to Lindsay’s house with Aubrey and Alicia for our sleepover, I had signed onto MSN on her computer and started a conversation with him.
I was still a little drunk, and I knew that it was the only way I could truly voice what I was feeling, and I wanted answers. I told him exactly how I felt: that I liked him…as more than a friend…and I wanted to be with him.
He took a ridiculously long time to reply. He would start typing, then erase it all and pause. Finally, he said, “I can’t feel that for you.”
His simple sentence had sliced my heart into ribbons, and I immediately signed off MSN to retreat to the company of my friends to cry. I could have sworn from the way he was with me, the chemistry and electricity between us when we were together, the way he had come so close to kissing me that very night, that he felt the same as I did.
But then and again, maybe I was one of those delusional teen girls, romanticizing things that never were and never could be. He just wasn’t into me, and it was clear that I was just imagining all the signs that he was attracted.
I hadn’t talked to him since, and he hadn’t initiated conversation, either. The fact that he didn’t reach out saddened me. It also didn’t really surprise me. Looking back, I had been the one to initiate every single conversation with him. I’d been the one to ask him to hang out every single time.
Well, no more. I was done waiting around, done deluding myself into thinking there was a chance for me to be with him. Aubrey was in full support of my determination to put my feelings for Grayson to rest…permanently.
“Grade twelve is your year,” Aubrey had said. “Find a hot boyfriend—one that’ll push Grayson to the very back of your mind. He’s not even worth all the time you wasted on him.”
While I didn’t necessarily agree with that particular plan of Aubrey’s, I did agree that it was high time I stopped wasting tears over someone who didn’t feel the same about me. It was time I started to show myself a little respect and love, learn how to be confident in my skin. After all, I was stuck in it.
Thus, the makeover idea was born. I had used my paychecks from my part time McDonald’s job to buy a new wardrobe, makeup, and have my hair layered.
Aubrey helped with the shopping and makeup portion of my makeover. She was skilled in both. I, on the other hand, wasn’t skilled in either, but after several intense lessons from Aubrey, my makeup skills were fairly decent. I could only do the one look, but it was better than nothing.
I still felt like an impostor though. A fake. I felt like neon signs were pointing down at me, alerting my peers to the fact that I was trying. I wrinkled my nose, frowning. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, I thought.
My makeover wasn’t just about changing my style and hair. I was going to force myself to do things that intimidated me. It was my last year in high school and I could never re-do it; I didn’t want to regret not doing the things I had wanted to. I didn’t want to look back and realize that I had missed out so much because I was too scared to put myself out there. I’d already wasted three years pining after Grayson. Three years being the wallflower.
I didn’t want to waste any more time.
In August, I signed up to sing in the talent show at the fair. It was a little dorky—I knew it—but the fair committee had a pretty good prize for the first place winner: a two-hundred dollar check. While I wasn’t hurting for money, I was trying to make my savings account grow for college, and it was enough of an incentive to motivate me.
Plus, it was the way that I planned on giving myself closure on the Grayson subject.
For the last three years, we would meet up at the fair. We would always end up in front of the sign that read Talent Show, Friday afternoon! Each year he would tell me that I should do it, I should sign up…that he wanted to hear me sing.
After I had my heart broken, I decided to go for it. I signed up, intending to sing a soulful song of heartbreak, just to purge it out of my system. Music was how I processed my emotions and thoughts; singing was how I let it all out.
Only I was completely freaking out about it. I had never performed on stage before—singing karaoke when hanging out with your girlfriends was a completely different ball game. I didn’t want to admit that the prospect of singing at the fair had me paralyzed with fear every time I thought about it. With only three more days left until the night of the talent show, I was seriously considering bowing out.
“Seriously, Everly! I’ll be leaving without you if you don’t get your ass downstairs!” my sister Julia yelled, her voice ringing with impatience. I snapped back to attention, feeling guilty for keeping her waiting.
“Wish me luck, Stella,” I said to my dog as I picked up my bag. Stella was a three-year-old chocolate lab mix that we had adopted from a rescue when she was just over a year. I patted her head quickly before I tossed a final glance over my shoulder, towards my bed.
The purple teddy bear that Grayson had won me at the fair three years ago still rested on my pillow. I sighed, my fingers reaching out to touch the soft fur. I knew I needed to get rid of it. It was another one of those things that I inexplicably felt I needed to do in order to officially purge him from my system. I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it yet. A part of me was still foolishly hanging on. I picked it up, staring at the black beady eyes, and bit my lower lip.
No time like the present, I thought, tossing the bear into the waste basket by my desk. I had been talking about purging Grayson from my system for months, but never felt ready. I wasn’t sure I was ready in that moment either, but it seemed right.
I turned back around and rushed down the stairs with Stella following at my heels. I slipped into my new converse shoes. Julia was standing by our front door, impatiently tapping her foot and texting on her cell phone.
“What took you so long?” Julia demanded, glancing up briefly from her phone before returning her gaze to it.
“Couldn’t find my bag.” I shrugged. Truthfully, getting ready had taken up more time than I thought it would. I hadn’t mastered a ten-minute makeup routine, as Julia had. She never left the house without a full face of makeup. She looked up from her phone, eyeing me skeptically. I knew she didn’t buy my excuse.
Julia was exactly a year older than me. She was three months old when my parents found out they were pregnant with me, and lo-and-behold, I was born nine months later, on her first birthday. She was constantly complaining about how I’d stolen her thunder, but that was the last time. I lacked Julia’s easy confidence and social skills; she was always the center of attention, while I was always in the background. She stood out while I faded.
Julia was into fashion and pretty things; parties and socializing. She was gorgeous, kind, funny, and everyone liked her. In fact, I couldn’t even walk down the hallway without guys asking me if “my hot sister” was single, or if I could put in a good word with her. For three years, I watched as Julia walked around like she owned the school—and she did own it. She was the girl everyone wanted to be friends with, the girl everyone wanted to impress. Julia was eve
n nominated for prom queen twice: once at our high school, and again at her boyfriend’s high school.
I wasn’t exactly a nomad myself. I had my circle of friends that sometimes grew, welcoming extras for a short while due to my friend, Lindsay’s, conquests. I wasn’t by any means popular, but people knew who I was by default. I was most often known as ‘that other girl that hung out with Lindsay’, or ‘Julia’s little sister’. I attended parties with my friends, but I didn’t participate to the degree that Julia, Lindsay, and even Aubrey did.
While attending these parties, I never really felt like a part of it all because I never embraced the high school atmosphere like Julia or my other friends had. I always felt like I was on the outside looking in, watching and longing to participate but…holding back.
Our personalities were vastly different, as were our physical appearances. Julia was taller, just a little curvier and in my opinion, prettier. She had an olive complexion, dark green eyes, and dark chestnut hair like our father. I resembled our mother more. My hair reflected what happened when blonde and dark brown merged together: the result was an almost two-toned caramel color. We both had our mother’s pouty lips, her delicate nose and our father’s almond-shaped eyes.
I was a little shorter, and I certainly hadn’t been blessed in the curves department. My eyes were a pale, unremarkable shade of green. I was fair, like my mom. I didn’t tan like my sister and father; I burned.
A few times, we were mistaken as twins. Secretly, hearing people comment on how similar we looked made me feel good. It was more or less Julia’s disgust over the comparison that stung. Being compared to her “fashion clueless” sister drove Julia absolutely nuts.
“Whatever. Let’s go.” Julia sighed, shoving her phone into her sweater and not sparing me another look. I gave Stella a final pat, closed the front door behind me and followed Julia out of the house to her red 1998 Sunfire.
Damaged Goods Page 2
