My sentence fell over a cliff and into silence, but before I could lose myself to my thoughts, I heard my mom say, “Seven.”
The firmness in her voice made me look at her and I saw that she was staring at me, her gaze unwavering, and she spoke her next words with utmost confidence: “Don’t ever refer to yourself like that. As if you don’t deserve something good and wonderful to happen to you. You are beautiful and smart and—”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom,” I reasoned.
“No, I’m not,” she countered calmly. “I mean them. There will be more fantastical things coming in your life and even more after that. They’re just right up ahead, around that small corner that seems impossible to reach until you’re actually there, until you’ve finally made that turn and you’ll see. Okay? So don’t beat yourself up before you even got to that corner. It’s not over yet.”
My lip quivered when I said, “Thanks, Mom,” and buried my head in the crook of her neck.
Her words were wonderful and reassuring, and they didn’t have any trouble finding my heart and the soft spot in it that required mending. They couldn’t wipe the entire slate clean or magically fix everything, but for now, it was enough.
***
Date: May 13, 2013
I curled up under my blanket, digging my face into the pillow. It was already almost midnight, but I couldn’t sleep. I’d been tossing and turning since ten o’clock, my mind wandering to Colin again and—again—what he could be doing, what he was thinking, and if he’d asked anyone to prom yet.
In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore; I reached over and plucked my phone off the side table. I scrolled through my contacts and found his name. The call button was just there—green and glowing and so, so tempting. My thumb hovered over it, shaking as I hesitated.
I let out a breath that was as shaky as my hand. He could still be awake right now. He could be…
But instead of plunging my finger down on the screen, I closed it and placed my phone back on the side table, practically shoving it away from me. I threw my blanket over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I pushed myself to go to sleep, but I couldn’t deny the fact that part of me was still waiting, as my breathing slowed and my fingers loosened their grip, for my phone to ring and for a certain person’s voice to be on the other line.
The night was deafening with its silence.
***
Date: May 28, 2013
“Seven, isn’t your prom tonight?” my mom asked as she busied herself in the kitchen.
“It’s probably starting already.” I was relaxing on the couch, absently swiping across the screen of my phone, with an episode of Suits playing on the TV.
“What?” Hurried footsteps echoed in the kitchen and all the way to the living room until my mom finally appeared into view. “Why aren’t you dressed up then?”
“I’m not going,” I stated simply, shaking my head without looking up.
“But, Seven, it’s prom!” she exclaimed, frantically waving around a washcloth. “It’ll be the night you’ll always remember!”
“Technically, the prom I’ll always remember is going to occur next year—the last year of my high school life—so it doesn’t really matter if I don’t go now—”
“Seven, you might be prom queen,” she reasoned weakly.
I laughed—more like cackled—and said, “Um, yeah, there’s no way that’s ever going to happen.” I glided my thumb up the screen of my phone, photos streaming up the site, and tapped twice when I spotted a nice shot. Most of them were hastily uploaded selfies taken at prom. I could see girls I knew wearing the beautiful dresses they’d described to me and couples I’d helped get together dancing.
One picture was of Bianca and Brant, Bianca’s head on Brant’s chest as they swayed to what I assumed was a slow love song. Despite the envious twist in my gut, I tapped it twice and a white heart flashed in the middle of the photo.
My mom sighed, probably realizing how hopeless her case was, and turned away, back to the kitchen. “Did anyone ask you to prom? Maybe they’re waiting for you right now,” she said as she went.
Even though she knew Colin and I were over, I could taste the hint of hope in her statement that Colin would be waiting for me. I was already over with that phase.
The homepage scrolled down and I saw that Kiera had uploaded a picture of Colin. He looked gorgeous in a tuxedo, and his hair was gelled up in a way that it resembled a wild, red flame. He was standing with his arms crossed, back straight, a rose in between his teeth, and my heart clenched at the implication of the picture—that Kiera was Colin’s date. It wasn’t completely unexpected I guess; they did share a kiss once in a game.
When I glanced down at the caption, though, I was glad to be proven otherwise. Kiera had written: “I can’t believe this hottie doesn’t have a date tonight!”
Relieved, I sighed, and finally answered my mom’s question, “Trust me, Mom. No one’s waiting for me right now.”
***
Date: May 31, 2013
Chaos filled the school hallways that day.
Students were running past, jumping and pumping their fists into the air while papers flew out of their notebooks and littered the floor. Teachers were exiting the classrooms, shaking their heads and giving us disgusted looks, but nobody cared.
After all, it was already the last day of school.
I stood by my locker, clutching my bag to my chest and laughing as I eased myself out of the way of the people rushing by. Amy and Nicole flanked either of my sides, identical silly grins on our faces. Finally, junior year was over.
“See you, ladies,” Nicole cooed, wiggling her fingers at us. “I have to go home and pack. We’re going to the beach tomorrow!” She made a satisfied sound deep in her throat and smiled like she’d eaten something sweet. “I can’t wait!”
“Bye, Nicole,” Amy and I chorused, watching our friend maneuver her way out of danger in the busier-than-usual hall.
“I’ve got nothing this summer,” Amy pouted when Nicole was gone from sight. She’d been doing better over the past month, ignoring Timothy in class and centering all her energy on schoolwork. She actually managed to get into the top five in our class. She looked over at me. “What about you, Seven?”
“I’m going to visit my grandma for a week or so,” I said. “Her place is near Venice Beach.”
“Oh, I used to go there all the time!” Amy said. “There was one time my cousin and I—” Whatever story she was about to unfold was promptly folded back because her phone suddenly rang. Or maybe vibrated. I couldn’t really tell and I didn’t know how she could with all the noise around us.
“Hello?” she said to the caller. “Yeah. Oh, you’re here? Okay. Okay, I’ll be there in five.” She hung up and told me, “Sorry, Seven, I have to get going too.”
“It’s okay,” I said dismissively, waving at her apology. “I have nowhere to go right now. Might as well head to the bookstore early.”
Amy laughed and pulled me in for a hug. “Oh, Seven,” she said. “Don’t be a stranger this summer, okay? I’ll see you in September.”
“See you,” I said as she gave me one last smile and turned away. I was about to head out too, but I was forced to back a step when one of the boys running around hurtled themselves in my path.
My back collided with someone else’s and I whirled around, my tongue already forming an apology before I even gave it a second thought. “Oh, sorry, I—”
I must’ve dreamt the entire thing—the end of school days, the topsy-turvy appearance of the hallways—because after a month, two weeks and five days of not being within a five-foot radius of Colin Stillman, it was just too good to be true to simply bump into him like this, like this was some terribly clichéd chick flick.
But there I was and there he was.
I looked up at Colin, my confidence shrinking and my knees melting to jelly, and quickly shut my mouth. His widened
eyes went back to their normal size and to my surprise, he smiled. At me. Gosh, how long had it been since he’d smiled at me like that?
What else could I do? I smiled back. “H-Hey,” I practically had to cough out.
“Hi there,” he said casually, as if the last time we were this close to each other I hadn’t slapped him and basically told him I hated him. His voice was soft, his words for me and me alone.
Awkward silence soon infiltrated our conversation and I fought the habit of darting my eyes away from his. I just couldn’t take his stare. In those beautiful green eyes, I could see the black notebook and all those heart-warming words he’d written and most likely didn’t mean.
Colin cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “So,” he said, “school’s finally over.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Time flies so fast. I can’t believe I’m going to be a senior in a few months.”
He laughed, and it was music to my ears. “I can’t believe I’m going to graduate from high school in a few days.”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head at myself and grinning apologetically. “Congratulations, by the way. Are you ready for college?” It was weird talking, so civil and nonchalant, like we were just classmates making conversation. I was more used to our playful banter and endless chases up and down that very hall.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, shrugging. “It’s pretty scary, once you’re already on the spot.”
I gave him a smile I hoped could say everything I couldn’t—that I loved him, that I missed him, and that I wished our circumstances were just a little different. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” was all I could say.
“Thanks.” Colin looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. Were his cheeks turning pink or was I imagining things? I didn’t get to know the answer to that, though, because someone behind him called, “Col! Come on, man!”
Colin looked back over his shoulder and said, “Yeah, in a second!” He turned to me. “Well, um…I need to go. Some friends are having a pre-graduation party or something like that.”
“Oh, sure,” I said, gesturing to his friend, who was still waiting for Colin to stop talking to me, “Go enjoy your time with your friends. It might be a while before you’ll see them again. I…I have to go too, anyway.”
“Oh, okay.” He stared at me, eyebrows slightly furrowed. I didn’t know if it was with concern, confusion or something else.
“Bye then,” I mumbled weakly before wheeling around and walking away. I‘d only made at most five paces when Colin shouted after me, “Seven!”
I stopped and spun in my place, my hands closed in a fist to hide my quivering fingers. “Yeah?” I asked quietly.
Please say you miss me, I desperately wanted to say, Please say that everything’s just a misunderstanding and you want everything behind us because that’s what I want. I want you back.
Colin’s mouth twitched into a grin. “I hope you have a great summer.”
My heart fluttered weakly with disappointment, but I still replied with a smile, “Thanks. You too.”
He waved goodbye, and at that point, I didn’t think I was capable of doing anything else but turning away. I’m such an idiot, I thought, raising a hand and dragging it down my face as I marched toward a corner that would take me to the school exit. An idiot who will never learn her lesson. It would take a miracle for Colin to give me another chance.
Entry 22: Maybe It Isn’t Too Late
Date: June 4, 2013
Grandma Betty lived in a beautiful two-story house that stood merely a few miles away from the shoreline of Venice Beach. It was painted pastel blue trimmed with white and had a lovely porch complete with a swinging bench.
My mom told me that it used to be some ordinary old bench—until she and Patrick, eleven and spontaneous, needed some extra wood for the bird house they were making and decided that the four short legs of the bench were exactly the right size.
Grandma had been furious but Grandpa just laughed it off.
“What are you laughing about? It’s completely useless now!” Grandma Betty had claimed.
“Don’t speak too soon, dear,” Grandpa had fired back at her as he winked at his daughter and her best friend. “Nothing is ever completely useless.”
With the right equipment bought and some help from the very kids responsible for the bench’s destruction, it was transformed into the swing where my mom had cried on the first time she had her heart broken by a boy. The second time was by a man’s death—grandpa’s death.
And for the past summer vacations, that swing had been my spot. I would read, leaning back on the pillows I’d taken from the living room, and sink into story after story after story rather than go out to the beach and swim like the other girls.
It had been two days since we arrived and I was once again sitting on my “throne”, as my dad liked to call it. I had a book with me—two, actually—but there was something different about it this time.
I was certain it wasn’t the people. Whatever noise they could make, they wouldn’t be able to pull me out of a book. They never did and I was pretty sure they never would. It wasn’t the weather. It was sunny with a slight wind picking up, brushing past the chimes Grandma had hung just above the front steps, but that had never bothered me before.
For some reason, I just couldn’t read. My mind was too busy drifting back to L.A., back to a particular hallway in my high school where I’d last spoken to the boy I love.
Colin…
I let out an angry groan and shook my head, trying to focus on the words on the page.
This summer was supposed to be the perfect opportunity to get over him, seeing as he would be too busy with college. I looked up the university in Chicago that Colin wanted to go to online and found out that there was going to be an early summer program for incoming freshmen on June six. A little scrolling down Facebook allowed me to learn that Colin was interested in this particular program.
I knew that it was just a summer program and Colin could always come back and hang out with his friends and family here, but there was still a chance that he wouldn’t come back at all. He had relatives there that he could stay with. He could spend the rest of the summer getting used to his surroundings, making friends before school even started and whatnot. That meant I didn’t have to see him around L.A. anymore.
However, if I kept letting my heart wander back to him like this, there was no way I could possibly move on from him.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen someone this determined to read,” a voice said, and I craned my neck to find Patrick resting all his weight against the doorframe.
Seeing as Patrick and my mom grew up together, it was only logical that he knew Grandma Betty and that she loved him fiercely like a son she never had. Naturally, he was always invited to summer visits like this one.
“And to think I own a bookstore—I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of weird but this is definitely different,” he went on, smirking at me as he sauntered over. Despite his present teasing demeanor, it was impossible for me not to flash back to The Book Station, just a month ago. I could see it all before me, clear as day: Patrick sitting hunched, lifeless, on the floor, tears swelling but never falling.
I blinked and this time, I saw Patrick in a thin button-down and black Bermuda shorts, relaxing against the other side of the bench. He used his leg—the one that wasn’t crossed—to rock the swing back and forth.
His smile had softened just a notch. “What’s up, Seven?”
“Nothing’s up,” I said, swerving my gaze the other way. I absently flipped through the book in my hands. “Why?”
Patrick shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just want to know what’s on your mind. Everyone else is filled with the summer vibe except you.”
“And you?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. I was certain he could hear me; he was just pretending he cou
ldn’t. “Did you try contacting your parents again?” I immediately regretted my words when I noticed his eye twitch in irritation.
His reply was quick and sharp as a sudden sword swipe: “Why should I?” He cleared his throat and tried to cover up the emotion in his voice. “I’ve been making the effort this whole time. It’s their turn now.”
I pursed my lips, and my thoughts, as they never failed to do, circled back to Colin. “But…maybe they don’t know it’s their turn.”
That made Patrick pause. He was already quiet, actually, but I sensed the stop in his train of thoughts, hesitating before it would turn to its next direction. In the end, the train just went ahead on its original track.
“That’s their problem now,” he said, almost like he was trying to convince himself.
I wanted to say more, but Patrick didn’t give me a chance. He hopped off to his feet and ducked back inside the house without even a word of finality. His exit itself implied that this conversation should be put to bed, and never woken up again.
I sighed, feeling guilty for ruining Patrick’s considerably better mood, compared to the previous weeks. There was no way I was going to be able to get back to my book at all now.
I stood up, shaking the swing violently from my sudden movement, and went inside to get my purse. Counting to make sure I had enough money, I called out to my parents that I was going out to the boardwalk and started heading down the road to where the people, the music and the colors were more vibrant.
I wish I could say that I easily got a seat at a quiet café, but to be honest, wrestling my way through the crowd of tourists loitering by the souvenir shops and waiting for a couple to finish up their drinks and leave so I could take their table wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.
Nonetheless, I got my seat. I was drinking an iced mocha latte and I was satisfied with watching the busy street and the foaming waves in the distance.
The Black Notebook Page 34
