“You’re going home, right?” I couldn’t help my unease seeping onto the surface. I wouldn’t forgive myself if he killed himself. I mean, he was a total stranger, but he had helped me get home.
At my question, a shadow passed over his face, like I had offended him. But I needed to know.
“Goodnight, Charlie,” was all he said before retreating back towards his Chevy.
I remained standing at the door, even after he drove off. The sadness in his eyes continued to haunt me, making me wonder what was going on his life that made him want to end it. I could tell that Mel wanted to voice her bafflement at the sudden tension between Xander and I, but I couldn’t tell her. I wasn’t sure how to put his enigmatic sadness into words myself.
Xander
It was twelve am, and I was nowhere near home. Though it didn’t compare to watching the final rays of the sun set, there was something special about the sky at midnight. That odd morphing of daylight from all the hues of night time was priceless. It reminded me of my mother, back when I was younger and she was carefree. Before Cole got sick and Dad lost his purpose. Before life happened.
Ask me and I wouldn’t be able to find a reason why I had told a virtual stranger that I was ready to end my existence when she had interrupted me. I opened my eyes, staring, unseeing, into the night sky, wishing it would swallow me whole. For the first time ever, I wished the world would overwhelm me in all its emotions. Better to drown in all its wrongs than suffocate in my own shortcomings.
Charlie.
Her name didn’t seem to fit into the mosaic of breeding and the whole idea of what was proper, the way I was sure she had been raised. One would think her to be called Catherine or Diane, with a preceding title, at that. And maybe it would be followed by “the third” or something.
But “Charlie” suited her just right.
I wondered why I hadn’t seen her before, then decided that she didn’t attend Whitfield University. She was probably in town for the summer so, thankfully, I wouldn’t ever see her again. I wondered if I would have told her what I did had she been someone from school. Definitely not. They would have aired my dirty laundry for fifteen minutes of fame, and that was more than enough in a town as small as ours. It was enough for my parents to lose their minds. Enough to taint our family name.
I was Alexander Hastings-Turner, dubbed Alexander the Great. Star basketball player for the Whitfield Dragons and the result of a marriage between two powerful families. The guarantee that our local economy would remain stable, as long as there was an heir to the Hastings-Turner alliance. I had a dozen scholarships lined up and twice as many girls falling at my feet. Yet, I was probably the most miserable person I knew. Hell, all my famed accomplishments faded into the background against my greatest failure. I was an ultimate failure.
I felt it in the way my parents regarded me when they thought I couldn’t see them, and the way my dad downplayed every achievement I made. Mom was probably hanging onto the hope that I wouldn’t be another defect.
Taking a shocked breath, I winced at that last word. Defect. My guilt surged to the surface like a raging tsunami. Cole wasn’t a defect. My little brother was simply a special child born in a family where everything had to be the way it was a century ago. Perfect. I almost broke down at the memory, he had always been so special, but if he got any more different from this point, I’d resent the universe for its cruelty towards him.
Heaving, I took a deep breath, turning my thoughts to what I had stored in the glove compartment. I had no one to write a farewell note to. Just my “lucky” basketball, that I knew my once closest friend Ronald would want. The glove compartment kept my watch, wallet and knife. Just in case I lost the courage to drive off the edge of the cliff.
I’d had the entire summer to think it through. Overdosing had never been an option. For what I had done, or failed to do, I deserved to die in excruciating pain.
Her concerned look came to mind as I switched on the ignition. Her disbelief at my confession was the deciding factor a second before I revved the engine into motion...
Charlie
Two weeks later...
Being the new girl in school sucks. It always has. I thought it would be different, and because it wasn’t as small as high school, I would blend in seamlessly at Whitfield University.
I had asked three people for directions to the administration block and had been ignored (the third did hand me a map before walking away). The school map had led me to the veterinary sciences faculty instead. There, I had had to deal with the putrid stench of some poor animal being dissected. And now, an hour into the Introduction to Humanities lecture I was supposed to be in, I was back in the parking lot. Yep, I sucked at this whole ‘being new’ thing.
I thought about skipping the first day of school, but then I wouldn’t make any progress with knowing my way around the huge campus. Maybe, if I could suck it up for a few more hours, I could make a friend, and tomorrow I wouldn’t be the new transfer student who can’t get to any lecture hall without getting lost.
My phone buzzed in my front pocket, and I retrieved it, hoping it was one of my friends in Goldridge. It wasn’t. Instead, it was an email from Whitfield County Children’s Hospital, accepting my offer to volunteer in one of their wards. At least something was going according to plan.
The droning sound of an approaching car got me off the phone and onto the artificial lawn so I could go through my emails. I would’ve continued reloading my emails if the bright red colour of the convertible hadn’t gone straight from my eyes to a recent memory. My head snapped up, and I stared after the car, my feet already leading me to the parking space where the driver was headed.
I hoped it was him, though I didn’t know what to say if it turned out to be him. I’d always been kind of awkward when it came to social skills, I guess. I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to ask how he was doing, or if he was over whatever he had been going through two weeks ago. Maybe now, he would be ready to talk about it. Then again, if he did decide to talk, I’m sure it would be with his friends, not some girl he’d only met once. But, where had those friends been the day he had planned on committing suicide? He hadn’t seemed like the chatty type that day though. Maybe he was one of those really unpopular geeks and didn’t have any friends. But that didn’t even begin to make sense, not with those Greek God looks. I shook myself out of my mental investigation. Chances were, it might not even be the same car. But hell, I’d recognize that red chevy anywhere. It was a classic.
My course of action hadn’t been decided when the door to the chevy opened and that familiar six foot three frame stepped out. Xander. It really was him, I knew someone around here. Most of all, he was alive. When I had returned to the cliff for my car, his had been nowhere to be found, even at the bottom of the cliff. To me, that had posed the question that maybe he had gone and done it somewhere else. But he hadn’t. He was here, standing a couple of feet from me.
He shut the door and turned, coming face to face with me. His expression blanked out, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t remember me, but that was unlikely.
“Hey,” I said tentatively, slightly waving.
He ran a hand through his long mane of hair, which the wind blew into his face, “Hie.”
I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.
“Umm, I’m glad you’re...you know, okay.” Real smooth, Charlie. Seriously?
He looked me over, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching at the lapels of his satchel.
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
I stared at the ground, “I mean, the last time I saw you-”
“What do you want from me?” he stepped closer, his head tilted to assess me, this time with both hands in the pockets of the black chinos he was wearing.
That took me aback, “Excuse me?”
“You want to date me for a while, just until you’re popular enough on campus, or maybe you want some money?”
He hadn’t just sai
d that. What was wrong with the guy? So much for showing concern for fellow human beings.
I gave a derisive snort, “What makes you think I would want anything from you?”
He snorted, “Everyone wants something, and when it comes from me, they always want more.”
I wouldn’t let him see that he had upset me, so I started to walk away, before he grabbed my wrist.
“What you’ll get from me is more than any gossip will offer. Besides, no one will believe you, and if they do, my family will sue you.”
“I have nothing to tell,” I snarled through gritted teeth, “Now, let go of me.”
He ground his jaw, and waited, as if thinking about whether letting me go would be a good idea. Finally, he released his hold on my wrist and I half ran into the nearest building. I debated on whether I could make him tell me where the admin block was or if I would waste another hour. So I abruptly halted and turned to him.
“Where is the administration block?”
He looked surprised at my sudden stop, then pointed to the east of the entrance where I stood, “Second right turn.”
Fuck good manners, I turned and walked east.
About two minutes later, I realised why he’d been so ready to buy my silence about the circumstances of our meeting.
His picture hung before me, a massive poster of him in the school basketball uniform and his dark brown hair parted at the temples. He wasn’t smiling, like the two other guys who flanked him. Instead, he looked directly into the camera lenses, his gaze smouldering, the proof in this being the group of girls that passed and gushed over “Alexander Hastings-Turner.”
A notice for basketball tryouts also had his name, so did the go-to list of people for this semester’s social activities. Seemed the guy was Mr. Popular around here. But that didn’t change anything for me, I never would have gone around the school telling them that their golden boy was dealing with issues none of them imagined. Hell, I didn’t even know what issues those were myself. It also didn’t change my annoyance at him treating me like I was a vulture waiting to gain from his problems.
Next to the list of Deans of each faculty was also an article about him, basketball and silverware in hand, stating that he was chasing a third consecutive state championship. Hello, superstar.
I was better off not associating with him, anyway.
Xander
I castigated myself throughout my first two lectures and right into the property law tutorial. True, I was a renowned asshole, but I felt like today, I had set a new record.
All my life, people had tried to use me to either get to my parents or make a quick buck. Last year, a junior had claimed to be carrying my child, and because I couldn’t remember anything from the night in question, I was helpless against her claims for months. My parents had been livid, my mom standing between my dad and I as he threatened to hit me with a baseball bat, right before she’d slapped me hard and called me a disgrace.
Anger surged through me as I remembered that night. It had ultimately been the night that had led to my undoing. That night was my biggest regret, the girl and my parent’s rage paling in comparison to the worst thing it had cost me.
As if sent as a reminder, my former best friend Ronald stepped into the hallway, and tension cackled in the air the moment our eyes met. His were laden with guilt and I’m sure mine contained the anger I’d held on to for a year. Students looked between the two of us, as they always did whenever we were in the same space lately. As if they’re waiting for us to suddenly attack one another. But we don’t.
Once, we were the dynamic duo of Whitfield College Basketball, both of us set on playing for the same team professionally. Once, we were brothers. The last word made me turn away first and stare into my locker. These days, we never played in the same court, mainly because I felt like killing him and because I knew he wouldn’t fight back, I got angrier. It felt like I was banging my head against a wall, trying to tear it down and break through this red haze I saw whenever I was around him. We also never played together because while we used to click and predict each other’s movements to perfection before, the last time we played together, we were so out of sync, the team lost by thirty points. And then I punched him in the ribs.
He walked past me and I shut my locker, walking in the opposite direction.
I took the five minute walk around campus to the admin block, aiming to charm the registrar, Mrs. Carson, into providing any information on Charlie Cane, so I’d know how to avoid her for the rest of the year.
“Hey, beautiful.” I smiled as I stood by her office. She blushed subtly and waved her hand dismissively.
“Am I still?” she looked up from her latest romance novel.
I snorted and rolled my eyes, “Yeah, obviously. You’re my favourite girl, you know.”
Her cornflower blue eyes twinkled with humor and she patted her hair, “I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, Alexander.”
I shook my head solemnly, barely concealing a smile. “No, just the ones that are.”
“Then I take it all the cheerleaders are beautiful, judging by the way you’re constantly around them.” She raised an eyebrow, her usual action before she asked about my love life.
“What?” I scoffed, “The only reason I hang around them is because you rejected me.”
She chuckled, “Just like your grandfather. What do you want, boy?”
Mrs. Carson (or Aunt Bailey)’s sister is my godmother and my mom’s best friend. She’s been part of the school since she returned home after her studies and she knows everything about everyone in this small county of ours.
I entered her small office, over decorated with pictures of her adventures all over the world.
“I need some inside information on a certain someone,” I looked up at her expectantly.
“And why, pray tell, do you want me to give you information that should otherwise remain confidential?”
“Umm, because, I need to avoid this certain someone, so I need to know what classes she will be taking, so I’m not in any of them.” I answered honestly, it’s always been easy for me to be truthful with her.
She scrutinised me for a minute, then sighed dramatically. “What’s her name?”
I sat up straight in the chair, “Charlie Cane.”
She went through a list of names on her computer, her glasses perched up on her nose. After some moments, she turned to face me, “I don’t have her name on record.”
“Why not? She’s just started learning here.”
“Don’t know, Alex. Maybe she was just dropping something off for someone here.”
“You’re sure? She has wild, kinky dark hair, brown eyes and she was wearing jeans and a grey top.”
She shook her head, “You must have her name wrong, then.”
I ground my jaw in irritation. So, I partly opened up to her about my deepest issues and she lied about her name. Wow.
I stood to leave, forcing a smile onto my face, “Alright, thanks for trying, Aunt Bailey.”
“Anytime, kiddo. By the way, I suggest you take Social Studies and a writing course this semester,” she said, filing a nail.
“Why?” I asked.
“They’re the easy ones. And with the season starting soon, you’ll devote all your time to basketball practice. You don’t have to if you don’t want. Just looking out for my favourite player.”
I smiled at her, grateful to have her support and wishing my relationship with my own mother was as easy.
“No, I will. Thanks.”
She grinned conspiratorially, “The perks of having an aunt in the system.”
I smirked and turned to leave, smiling at all the heads ups on pop quizzes that I’d been privy to in the past, provided I showed up at her house with chocolate every Monday and takeout on Thursdays.
After I left the admin block, I headed straight to register for my two new classes. I was late for Social Studies, and when I got there, everyone else seemed to be in class and Professor M
ikel was already calling out the register. The faces in this class all looked bored, like they could do this in their sleep. But I’d heard social studies could be deceptive like that.
“Dominic Nunez...Tanya Van Rooyen...Tanaka Maita...” he called out, and the responses were as monotonous as mine was probably going to be.
I looked down at the stadium style room, searching for a place to sit as he continued with the register, “Dana Smith...Alexander Hastings...”
Everyone turned to stare, before they started murmuring and making space for me to sit. I was at a stage where this wasn’t even flattering anymore, I cringed.
Professor Mikel glanced up in my direction as I made my way down the carpeted stairs, “And finally, hmm a regal sounding name there, Miss Charlotte Grace Welman-Cane. And you’ve added ‘Charlie’ as an alternative. But we don’t do nicknames in this class. So Charlotte it is.”
I froze at that last name. Professor Mikel’s last statement evoked some snickers from the class and I turned to glance in the direction they were all looking. Surprise, there she was. The girl who had witnessed me at my worst this summer. So she hadn’t lied about her name, and Aunt Bailey had set me up. Dammit.
“The last two names called out, you will be partners in all your projects this term, as is traditional for the last two latecomers. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience the punctual ones by associating them with you two, yes?”
More sniggers followed, but I wasn’t paying attention. My eyes were fixed on hers, the flicker of contempt in them. I groaned, vowing to get Aunt Bailey for this. For now, though, I had to make sure I sorted out this matter. How, I didn’t know yet.
I walked down the steps to the only space left for two people, silently praying that she would follow without making a scene over what had happened in the parking lot.
“Excuse me,” she said, brushing past me and taking the seat closest to the window. My designated seat in all of my classes.
I rolled my eyes at her back, hoping that she would continue to annoy me so much that I would forget confiding in her over the summer.
With Every Sunset Page 2
