by RH Tucker
“That’s true, I guess.” He lifts his shoulders and elation jumps into my heart as I watch his feet move. He’s finally going to leave. Then, as quickly as the excitement hits me, it zooms on by, giving me the middle finger, as Carter slumps down and sits next to me.
“What. Are. You. Doing?” My words come out slow, as I grind my teeth.
“Sitting,” he says, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looks like a protein bar. He nods to me with a smile, unwrapping it and taking a bite.
“Uh, no. Absolutely not. You need to leave.”
“Why?” He takes another bite, before looking around. “It doesn’t look like anyone else is gonna show up.”
The words sting. My face drops as I look around the courtyard. The couple that was sitting in front of me has left. There are a few other people, and they seem to be on their way out too. Tears prick the back of my eyes. No, I'm not going to cry in front of Carter Dixon. Besides, lunch isn't over yet. Maybe he got distracted, or detention or a teacher wanted to talk to him. It could be anything. But in my heart, the sad truth is starting to form. He isn't going to show.
As if sensing my discomfort, Carter gets to his feet.
“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
His voice is soft. It’s comforting. But it doesn’t help the pain that’s stabbing my heart.
Chapter 17
Carter
What did I do? I wanted to try and be charming or flirty. I wanted to try and make her laugh and then be all, ‘Surprise, it’s me!’, but it completely backfired. The more time went by, the more she looked around, waiting for him—me—to show up. And the last comment did it.
I didn't mean to say it like a jerk. I was leading to something. I was going to say, ‘It doesn't look like anyone is going to show up' and as she looked, I would say something. Anything. But it all went out the window as she looked around and I saw what looked like her heart break. Shatter. It looks like she's going to cry, and I feel like the biggest dickhead ever. How did I mess it up so bad?
I stare down at her in her derailed state. In class, even when she’d hurl death stares at me, she had this life about her. Vibrant. And thinking about it, that’s how her messages come across. Even sitting here, in her defeated state, she’s beautiful. I have to do something. I can’t just let her sit here, thinking I stood her up.
“God,” she snaps at me. “Stop staring at me. You do it enough during history.”
All thoughts of trying to cheer her up vanish as I look down at her, confused. “Excuse me?”
Putting her sketchbook in her bag, she stands up. “You heard me. Ogling me like I’m a piece of meat. All you stupid guys do it. It’s disgusting.”
Okay, she’s pissed off. That’s understandable, but I don’t want to be looped in with every guy in school. Guys like Jeremy, who actually did check out every girl’s ass that walked by.
“Ogling? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She has every right to be annoyed. I know she’s hurting and feeling stood up, but I can’t stop the next words that come out. “Oh, and you don’t think whoever you’re waiting for—Mr. Perfect—isn’t gonna want to ogle you?”
Her eyes met mine. “Maybe, but that’s different.”
“Are you serious? How?”
“It just is.”
"Wait, so he can ogle you, but I can't ogle you?"
“Stop saying ogle.” She puts a finger in my face.
She’s inches away from my face. I see the tiny scar on her chin, almost like a cute dimple. And I can smell her. She smells like roses and some type of fruit. Is it a body spray? Perfume? As my eyes meet hers, she looks like she’s going to tear my head off.
“Fine, he can check you out, but I can’t?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Why?”
“I told you, it’s different. He’s different. I know him.”
A cocky smile crosses my lips. She does know me, more than almost anyone. Why can’t she see that I’m standing right in front of her? Oh, that’s right, because she hates me.
“You know him? How much?”
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” She turns around and starts walking away. “He’s nice.”
Oh, that does it. I’m totally offended, in a confusing kind of way. I run in front of her, stopping her path. “I’m nice!”
“No, you’re a douche. And a flirt. And a horndog.” She stares at me as my jaw drops. “Oh, don’t act all innocent. I know you and your friends. All the pop-jocks, getting whatever they want from the cheerleaders. Like at homecoming.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, really? Enlighten me.” I fold my arms, waiting for her response.
She narrows her eyes, giving me a wicked smile. "Carter Dixon. Captain of the varsity basketball team. Every girl in school drools over you and you take full advantage of that like you did with Sarah Donovan at homecoming. Alicia Thompson loves giving the details of how you two hooked up over winter break. Oh, and Naomi Aguirre says she lost a pair of panties in the back seat of your car."
I just stare at her. I made out with Alicia that first weekend of winter break, but we never did anything more. I guess she liked to try and boost her rep too. And who the hell is Naomi Aguirre?
"You've probably been with at least a dozen girls this year, and it's disgusting. It doesn't matter how smart you are, Carter. Sleaze-balls like you are in every high school, every year, and yeah, girls are the same. But we're talking about you. It doesn't matter how many baskets you score. You'll still be a high school jock, just trying to get a piece of ass, probably not caring how many hearts get broken along the way. Oh,” her finger presses into my chest as a lump of shame lodges in my throat, “and the way you check out girls needs some work. I always catch you looking at my tits.”
“I …” I try to speak but can’t think of anything.
“Just because you look like you do, and have the talent you possess, doesn’t mean you can get whatever you want.”
She stands there, waiting for my reply, but I have none. There are literally no words. Most of what she said isn't true, but as far as my reputation goes, it is. And I'm the one that let it get to that. I thought it was cool. I thought it'd make me cool. The guys never seemed to mind. The girls didn't mind either. But to the one girl I cared about it did matter, and I have no way of defending myself. It hurts being called out for it, but not as much as knowing that's how she honestly feels about me. While texting I'm one person, a person she believes in and trusts in. But me, Carter, she's disgusted by.
She stares at me for a moment, reveling in the accomplishment of telling me off. I can’t stand to be in front of her, knowing how she really feels about me.
“I … I’m sorry I interrupted you.”
Chapter 18
Emma
For all the timidity I usually possess and being shy around guys I like, if someone gets me mad I have no problem telling them off. To me, getting angry at someone is not the same as flirting with someone. Yes, they both bring out high emotions, but when you're mad at someone, the words come out easier. Like liquid venom. Not that I like being a bitch, but sometimes people just need to be told. I try to convince myself that Carter is one of those people, but he just stands there, looking more stunned and embarrassed than I think I've ever seen him look. A wave of regret washes over me. He looks hurt. No matter how pissed off I am, I shouldn't be taking it out on him. After all, it isn't him I'm mad at.
He turns to walk away, and I want to stop him, at least to say sorry. Yes, most of the things I said are true, as far as I know, but still. They were ruthless. But I don’t stop him. I just watch him walk away, his shoulders slumped, and then turn around and lean against the tree. Now that he’s gone, maybe he would show up. But I know he isn’t going to. I wait the entire lunch period for no one to show.
I’m angry and hurt and embarrassed. I’m not feeling one specific emotion, but
a torrential downpour of everything. I want to cry, feeling stood up, but I want to yell too. I want to scream at the top of my lungs but know doing that will just draw attention to myself. Who the hell is this guy? Why didn’t he show up?
My phone chirps and a flicker of hope sparks before I check it to see that it's just Jen, wanting to know how it went. The first bell rings to get to our next class, and I text him. I have to know what happened.
Emerald22: Where r u? What happened?
I stare at my phone, anxiously waiting for a reply to come. I never take my eyes off it, as I make my way to history. No response. Turning a corner, I look up to see Carter and Matt standing by the door. It looks like Matt is trying to talk to him, but he’s ignoring him and staring at me. A new wave of regret comes over me. His eyes meet mine, before he looks down, heading inside the classroom.
When I walk into the class, I glance over in his direction, but he isn't looking at me. His eyes are locked on his desk, his phone in his hands. He's probably tweeting about me being a royal pain.
I slump in my chair and pull out my phone again. I know he probably has his on silent, if he’s even bothering to stay in contact with me, but I send him another text.
Emerald22: I don’t understand…
Emerald22: Can you talk to me???
As Mrs. Yanick closes the door, I wait and watch my phone, switching it to silent. But there's no response. Putting it away, my face slumps into my hands, as I stare straight ahead. Trying to act like I'm paying attention, I do everything I can to not unload a downpour of tears.
When I get to art class, I should be excited. Ms. Hales had been speaking to me about our art show coming up, and she's very interested in the three pieces I'm preparing. For the next few weeks, we'll be working on them in class. I have a realism painting of a waterfall and an abstract painting, using our school colors. I planned on doing a self-portrait for my third, but as I wallow in misery, an idea hits me. I'll paint heartbreak. And it's going to be my largest piece, six feet tall and three feet wide. I start by adding the base to the canvas with nothing but shades of blue and gray.
When the bell rings to end the day, I have flecks of paint all over my arms, but don’t bother to clean up. I even have it all over my shirt. It had been one of my favorite shirts, but now I hate it. It just reminds me of today’s terrible experience.
As I trudge along, I make it to Jen’s car; she’s waiting for me inside.
"So?" she says in high-pitched excitement. But as I sit down, it finally all comes crashing out, and tears stream down my face. "Oh no! No, no, no. What happened?"
“He didn’t show up.”
“What?”
“He …” I take a breath, trying to stop the tears, but there’s no stopping them. “I was just there. Waiting. He never showed.”
“Oh no, Emma.” She reaches over and hugs me. “I’m sorry.”
"I texted him, and he hasn't even replied. I don't get it." I look at her for answers.
"Boys are stupid jerks. You know this." She wipes away one of my tears. "He probably forgot or something. He's just an idiot."
“No. I think … I think it’s something else. I don’t think he would’ve just stood me up.”
“What do you think?”
"I don't know." I stare at my fingers, which are now nervously fiddling. "Maybe he did show up, and I didn't see him. Maybe he saw me and—"
“No. Don’t even go there, Emma. He’s an asshole. You’re beautiful. Hell, you’re hot. No, if he didn’t show up, for whatever reason, then he’s a worthless piece of crap.”
A small chuckle comes out as I try sniffing my tears away. “Thanks.”
“Come on.” She starts the engine. “We’re going to get chocolate.”
“What?”
"We're going to Patties, over on Fifth Avenue. That cake place? Chocolate always helps."
I shoot her a weary look, before looking out the window. Somewhere, in the mass of students leaving campus, he’s there. Why didn’t he show up? What happened?
“Okay,” I mutter as she drives away.
The chocolate does help a little, but the hangover of being stood up is still there the next day. I grab my phone in the morning, hoping for some sort of reply or answer. But when my phone shows no new messages, the hurt comes back. This time it's accompanied by anger.
I try to go along with my usual routine, but I'm constantly checking my phone. Endlessly thinking my leg is vibrating, pulling out my cell, only to find no new texts. Lunchtime is a little awkward, as Lana and Micah join us. It's obvious Jen told them, and they have no idea what to say.
“Okay, let’s get it over with,” I say, taking out my lunch.
“I’m going first,” Micah says, seeming more alert now that I broke the silence. “Once we find out who this guy is, I’m kicking his ass.”
He looks as hurt and pissed off as I feel. “Thanks.”
Lana reaches over, holding my hand. “And then, once he’s done kicking his ass, I’m going to kick him in the nuts until they fall off.”
I have to laugh. I love my friends. “Seriously, guys, I’m okay.”
“Yes, chocolate cures all,” Jen says proudly.
“That’s just so lame! Ugh, stupid boys!” Lana shouts.
“Hey.” Micah nudges her, making her wrap her arms around him.
“Except you, baby,” she says before taking a drink. “Oh man, look over there.”
Jen and I turn to see Carter, Lucas, and a couple of their friends walk by. For a minute, I think Carter shoots me a look, but then he resumes talking to his friends.
"Rumor has it Carter Dixon's got love bugs."
“Ew.” I look at her. “What?”
“Crabs. Sarah Donovan was telling people yesterday. She’s not sure, I guess she’s going to the doctors today, but she’s saying Carter gave them to her.”
“That’s disgusting.”
Suddenly I feel a little better about what I said yesterday. I still haven't told Jen about talking to him, but I guess there isn't anything to say. I don't know if he was trying to hit on me or what, but I told him off. He deserved it. At least, that's what I keep telling myself, remembering the pained expression on his face as he walked away.
Chapter 19
Carter
There's no easy way of putting this. I feel like shit. No, I feel like the biggest piece of shit the world has ever seen. Not only did I manage to get a girl to tell me off, due to rumors I've been coveting for the past two years, but I managed to hurt the same girl. Effectively standing her up, even though I was there. I'm sure I broke her heart while at the same time, made her go psycho-killer. And I deserve it.
Matt's been begging for me to tell him what happened, but I can't bring myself to do it. The day it happened, we had a game, and to say I blew chunks would be an understatement. I lost the ball multiple times, nearly fouled out of the game, and only shot two of fifteen. Out of fifteen shots, I made two. Two! And I missed all five three-pointers. I didn't even shower after the game, I just grabbed my stuff and went home. Oh yeah, we lost that game.
I know I’m going to see Emma and I have to try and get back on track. I need to text her and apologize, but how do you apologize for screwing up that massively? I have no idea, which is why I haven’t sent anything.
Lucas has to pick up some extra credit, so we walk with him to his class during lunch, and I see Emma, sitting in the quad with her friends. She doesn't look as devastated as yesterday, but she still seems down. Then they all turn around and stare in our direction, so I straighten up, hoping she doesn't see me looking at her. If she does, she'll probably accuse me of checking her out again.
And, of course, when I get to practice, things go from bad to worse for all the wrong reasons. I shoot poorly yet again, but I'm hoping I can find my rhythm before our next game because it's a big one. University High School and they're playing great this year. They're in our division, and if we beat them, we'll be in prime position to make the playoffs.
By the time we get to the lockers after practice, I get a few looks from some of the guys but brush it off. I know I sucked during the game yesterday, but we all have off-nights. I'm not sure what's going on, and then Jeremy walks over, giving me a weird look.
“Sup, Dixon? You feeling okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I shoot him a look and can swear his eyes flash down to where my towel is wrapped around my waist, before walking away.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter to myself.
Matt walks over to his locker next to mine and nudges my arm. I wait for him to say something, but he just stares at me. “What’s up?”
He looks around the locker and then leans in close to whisper. "You clean?"
"What? Yeah, I just took a shower."
“No, man.” His eyes dart around again. His whisper drops even lower. “I mean, clean. No dick rice going on?”
“What the? Who the hell said I have crabs?”
The words are louder then I mean them to be and Lucas speaks up behind me. “Dude, everyone’s saying it.”
“What the hell?” I look over at Lucas, who shrugs. Now everyone’s attention in the locker room is on me. “No! I don’t have fucking crabs. Who the hell said that?”
Jeremy walks over, pulling his T-shirt down. “I’ll give you one guess. And if she does have them, she’s blaming it on you because you dropped her ass at the bonfire.”
“Shit.” I knew Sarah was pissed that night, but I never thought she’d resort to starting rumors about me. At least, not those kinds of rumors.
“It’s all good, bro.” Jeremy smiles and I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “We got your back. Anyone who asks, we’ll just tell them you caught them from her.”
“What the? No! I don’t have them. Tell people that!”
He shrugs and walks away. Letting out a low grumble, I sit in front of my locker, while Matt looks on and the rest of the guys start leaving.
