by Trisha Leigh
“I’m not talking about the drawing. What the fuck were you two doing on the grass?”
“Oh,” she laughs. “He was chasing after me to give me the drawing and when he called my name I stopped suddenly. He ran into me and we fell on the grass.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you mad because we fell on the grass?”
“Does he know you have a boyfriend? Why the fuck he is drawing pictures for you?”
“Are you seriously doing this right now?”
“Answer the fucking question. Does he know you have a boyfriend?”
She glares at me, her nostrils flaring. “You’re not allowed to talk to me like that.”
She turns on her heel and starts walking toward the bus loading zone.
“Claire, come here.” I hop off the bike and quickly catch up to her. “It was a simple question. Why can’t you answer it?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Come on, Claire. You’re not taking the bus over this. Just get on the bike.”
I reach for her hand and she smacks my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
She climbs the steps onto the bus and I watch as she marches toward the back and plops down on a seat. All the while refusing to look out the window at me.
Fine.
She can get pissy if she wants. It was just a simple fucking question.
I speed home on my bike, then I sit idling in the driveway for a moment, contemplating whether I should go to the bus stop around the corner to pick her up. Then the image of her and Jason on the grass flashes in my mind. Her laughter. Her smile. The things I thought were only mine.
I rev the engine loudly to drown out the harsh pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
I pull the bike away from the house, but I don’t head to the bus stop. I go to Tristan’s instead.
Forever Forgiven
By the time I step inside the house, I’m sweating profusely from the insane humidity. I close the door then stand completely still for a moment, listening for the sound of a TV or guitar or some type of music. Nothing. The house is cool and silent. Chris is gone.
My stomach aches as I think of the way he spoke to me and where he could possibly be. Probably somewhere with Tristan. He wouldn’t cheat on me, would he?
I drop my backpack on the kitchen table and sit down in a chair. I allow myself ten minutes of hyperventilating and worried thoughts, then I pull my books out of my bag and start on my homework. Three hours later, Jackie gets home from work as I’m putting away the last textbook back into my backpack.
“Hey, sweetie. Where’s Chris?”
I shrug as I lift my backpack onto my shoulder and head for the stairs.
“You okay, Claire?” she calls after me.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
I race up the last few steps and close my bedroom door softly behind me. Collapsing onto my bed, I stare up at the blank ceiling and allow the first tears to fall. I can call or text him, but, for the first time in the two years we’ve been together, I don’t think he’ll respond.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and stare at the screen. I’m about to check for missed calls and texts, when the phone starts ringing. It’s Chris.
“Hello?”
I can hear movement, but he doesn’t answer.
“Chris?”
More movement, then I hear Tristan laughing.
He dialed my number on mistake.
I should hang up, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I listen for a few more seconds and Chris’s voice makes my stomach ache again.
“She can sit with me.”
“Aw… Is that your new girlfriend now that you’re kicking Claire to the curb?”
“Fuck — ” There’s a loud rustling then the line goes dead.
I throw the phone across the room and the battery pops off when it hits the wall. Turning over onto my side, I curl up and close my eyes. Jackie will probably come up in a few minutes to call me down for dinner. But she’ll leave me alone if she thinks I’m asleep. Then, when Chris comes home later, she’ll tell him not to disturb me.
Just a few minutes later, Jackie knocks on the door. Then I hear the door squeak as she peeks inside. She softly closes the door and I let out the breath I was holding.
So Chris and Tristan are out with some girls and I’m lying here hiding from him and Jackie. What is wrong with me? I’m not going to lie back and take this.
I sit up and turn on the lamp on my bedside table. I retrieve my phone from the other side of the room, then I dial Chris’s number. The call is immediately routed to voicemail, but I don’t bother leaving a message. I consider texting him, but decide against it. He probably turned his phone off when he realized he had accidentally called me.
I turn my phone off and drop it into the top drawer of my bedside table. Then I turn off the lamp, roll over and go to sleep.
I wake to the sound of Chris’s voice. “Claire.”
Opening my eyes, the room is pitch black, but the soft silver glow of the streetlights illuminates the left side of Chris’s face as he kneels next to my bed.
“Go away.”
“Claire, we need to talk.”
“Why? So you can ‘kick me to the curb’?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Get out!”
“Babe, just calm down.”
I slide out of bed and he stands up. Immediately, I begin pushing him toward the door. “Get out. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to look at you. Just get out!”
“What the fuck! You’re the one who couldn’t answer one fucking question and you’re pushing me out?”
“It was a stupid question!”
“You think it’s stupid that I want to know about your relationships with other guys?”
“I don’t have relationships with other guys!”
I keep pushing him until his back hits the inside of my closed bedroom door.
“Keep your voice down or my mom’s gonna hear us.”
“I don’t care if she hears us arguing. I hope she does. And I hope they send me somewhere else where I don’t have to hear your stupid voice.”
He glares at me through the murky darkness and I can feel the rage building inside him with every heaving breath he takes. “That’s what you want? You want to throw this all away without letting me explain a fucking thing? Fine. Have it your way.”
He opens the door and slips out of my bedroom without another sound.
A jolt of blinding pain lights up my chest and I cover my face as I sink to my knees and double over. What have we done?
I look up at the door, half hoping it will open at any moment and Chris will appear to make this right. Instead, all I see is my backpack lying on the floor a few feet away. I crawl to it and hastily slide open the zipper. Then I yank out the crumpled drawing Jason gave me and I rip it up into at least twenty pieces and throw it in the trash.
three weeks later
I step onto the bus and trudge down the aisle to the usual seat in the back. Halfway down the aisle, I look up and my heart stops at the sight of Chris sitting in my usual row of seats. All the pain and misery of the past three weeks floods my veins at once and my breath hitches in my chest. I drag my feet forward until I reach his row and he hands me a folded piece of paper before he scoots over to make room for me.
I take the piece of paper from his hand and sit down next to him, positioning my backpack between us on the seat. I unfold the paper, which has clearly been taped together, and I’m not surprised to see the drawing I threw away in my bedroom three weeks ago. Chris has taped a post-it note with a word bubble saying, “I’m sorry,” to the front of the picture.
But it’s what’s wrapped inside the drawing that makes me want to cry in the middle of a crowded bus. Two tickets to prom.
I didn’t expect Chris to take me to my senior prom now that he’s dropped out. But when we broke up three weeks ago, I knew that there was definitely no chance it would happen. I actually cried to R
achel about it last week when she asked me if Chris and I had gotten back together yet. I didn’t expect her to tell Chris that I was sad about the prom.
And I didn’t expect her to tell me the truth about what happened when Chris accidentally called me three weeks ago. Apparently, the girl he was going to sit with was Tristan’s little sister Molly. And they were sitting together in Tristan’s truck on the way to get frozen yogurt. Yes, I felt stupid. But that was six days ago and I still haven’t figured out how to approach Chris.
He leans over to whisper something in my ear, but I honestly don’t care what he has to say. I turn my face toward him and surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. His hands instantly reach up to cradle my face and I let out a deep sigh. How I’ve missed those hands.
I nuzzle my cheek into his palm and he smiles. I don’t care if there are dozens of eyes on us right now.
He leans his forehead against mine. “Let’s never break up again, okay?”
I nod and end up banging my forehead on his.
He laughs. “You don’t have to get violent on me. I know I fucked up.”
“We both did.” I fold up the paper and the tickets and tuck them into my backpack.
“Don’t lose those tickets,” he warns me. “Or I’ll have to go to the prom with Joanie Tipton.”
“Ugh. Don’t even joke about that.”
“She was standing in line behind me when I went to buy these right now. Somehow she knew we were broken up and she offered to take me to the prom if you said no.”
“Oh, my God. I hate her.”
He rests his hand on my knee as the bus pulls out of the loading zone. “So do I.”
I slide my hand under his palm, then I lace my fingers through his. And just like that, all is forgiven. Just like that, the world is turned right side up again.
Forever Happy
Tristan arrives at our house on the morning of Claire’s senior prom in his shitty Ford pickup truck. Claire and I climb into the front seat with Tristan, with Claire between us. She leans her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes as the truck bumps along down the beltline. She’s still tired from staying up late studying for finals.
We have to pick up Claire’s dress and my outfit at the mall. This is totally last minute. Claire didn’t want to pick up her dress on my bike, and Tristan’s been putting this off every day for the last four days I’ve been asking him to take us. Claire’s been too busy studying to care about Tristan blowing us off.
“What’s the theme for the prom? White Trash Love?” Tristan remarks when he sees what I’m wearing to the prom.
I pay the girl at the cash register for my black Rolling Stones T-shirt and the new pair of jeans. The girl stares at my new mohawk hairdo and smiles. Claire hooks her arm around mine, staking her claim.
“You’re just jealous you won’t get to fly your white trash flag today,” Claire says to Tristan.
“Yeah, not really. I wouldn’t go to the prom if you paid me in white trash love.”
“Hey,” I reply, issuing a warning before Tristan and Claire start sniping at each other.
Ever since Tristan and Ashley broke up in the beginning of the school year, he’s been an even bigger prick. He doesn’t say stupid stuff that often, but when he does, it’s usually something that’s meant to make me jealous and hurt Claire at the same time.
I know he’s just fucked up over Ashley, but it’s been almost a year since they broke up and they were only together a year. And he still refuses to tell me why they broke up. He keeps giving me some lame story about how he broke up with her because he didn’t have time to visit her after she went off to college. She’s a year older than Tristan. I have a feeling Ashley’s the one who broke up with him, and he still hasn’t gotten over it. But he’ll never admit that.
We leave the store and head for the department store where Claire had her dress altered. The center of the corridor in the mall is lined with craggily trees covered in blinking golden lights. Claire jumps up to touch one of the branches as we pass.
“These remind me of something,” she says, looking back at the tree she just touched with a childlike smile lighting up her beautiful face.
“What do they remind you of?” I ask, grabbing her hand to get her attention.
“When I was a kid, before my mom died, we had this giant tree on our property. Sometimes, when my mom was really out of it, I’d go outside and climb the tree. I’d stay up there for hours sometimes, just looking up at the stars.”
She continues to smile as she recalls this memory. And immediately my brain starts conjuring up ways to bring that kind of happiness to her every single day.
“Do you really think Jackie thinks you and Claire are just friends? Or even worse, like siblings? Ew!” Rachel has come over to help Claire with her hair and makeup. At least, that’s the story Rachel and I are going with.
Claire can’t respond with Rachel drawing a line around her lips, so I respond for both of us. “I don’t know if she knows about us, but I doubt she’d say anything about it at this point. It’s been… how long have we been together, babe?”
Claire pushes Rachel’s hand away. “Almost two years!” She glares at me as if I should know this off the top of my head. “Anyway, she probably already knows, but we’re still not going to officially tell her until I’m eighteen. Just to be safe.”
Rachel grabs Claire’s jaw so she can finish applying her makeup. “Well, you two better use protection tonight. Your mom’s not stupid. I’m pretty sure your mom knows how to count up to nine months.”
Claire doesn’t correct Rachel or say anything about waiting until she’s eighteen. It’s nobody’s business. Besides, her eighteenth birthday is only a few months away. Then I’m going to ravage her.
But tonight isn’t about having sex. It’s about giving Claire one memorable high school experience. An experience she thought she wouldn’t get to have until I surprised her with some prom tickets two weeks ago. I guess I can bear a few hours with my old classmates if it will make Claire happy.
We leave the house just before six p.m. and Claire looks surprised, almost a little nervous, when she sees that Rachel is staying.
“I’m just gonna hang with Jackie for a while. She’s teaching me to make protein bars for Jake,” Rachel says, then she turns to me. “Hey, maybe I should leave some protein bars for you.”
She tries to pinch my bicep and I step out of her reach. “Not funny.”
My mom shakes her head. “Be nice to him, Rachel. Even if he does look like a juvenile delinquent tonight.”
I smile as I run my hand over my mohawk, savoring the tickle of the spikes on my skin. “Don’t give me that look. Claire’s the one who made me dress like this.”
“I did not! Stop lying!” Claire pushes me and I laugh.
“Oh, you two.” My mom kisses Claire on the cheek, then she turns to me with a look of disgust and pats my arm. “Have fun, but don’t come home too late. And no drunk driving!”
“I’ll be drunk texting you later.” I kiss her cheek and she rolls her eyes at me.
The black blazer I’m wearing over my Rolling Stones T-shirt gets us into the dance hall at the hotel, but I quickly peel it off once we’re inside. I manage to make it through four and a half hours of pop music and corny ballads without puking. All I can think of as I dance with Claire or even as we’re taking our prom pictures, is the surprise I have waiting for her at home.
Forever Surprised
Despite all the small hitches, prom night turns out to be even more magical than I imagined it would be. I don’t care that Chris painted the tips of his mohawk blue. I don’t care that he wore a T-shirt and jeans when all the other guys wore their dorky suits and tuxedos. I actually love that he looks so different than all these clones.
He’s crazy, sexy, and beautiful. And he’s all mine.
Shortly after we take our very memorable prom pictures, Chris and I decide it’s time to go home. I’m exhausted from not having slept much this week
. And I’m not a high-heels kind of girl. My feet are killing me.
Chris kills the engine on his motorcycle a couple of houses away from our house. Then he rolls the bike down the street, up the driveway, and into the garage while I walk next to him, carrying my heels in my hand.
“Thank you for making this one of the best nights of my life,” I whisper as soon as we enter the house.
He smiles as he closes the front door and locks the deadbolt. “The night isn’t over yet. I have a surprise for you in your room. Come on.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stairs. I pull the front of the blazer tightly closed when I get a chill. Chris made me wear his coat on the bike for the ride home. But it smells so much like him, I don’t want to take it off. I don’t want this night to end.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers when we get to my bedroom door, which is closed. I never leave my door shut unless I’m sleeping.
I close my eyes and bite my lip as I hear the soft click of the door opening and Chris pulls me inside.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
I open my eyes and the room is completely dark. I'm confused, until Chris hits the light switch and the room is illuminated with a warm amber glow. On the wall next to my bed, strings of a few hundred, or even a thousand, lights have been pinned to the wall forming the brilliant, glowing silhouette of a craggily tree.
One tiny story about a tree and this is what Chris turns it into. Magic.
I coil my arms around his waist and lay my cheek against his shoulder. “It’s so beautiful.”
He kisses the top of my head. “There are some stars on the ceiling too, but they’re glow-in-the-dark. You have to expose them to light for a while, then turn off the lights and they’ll glow. And you can watch the stars any time you want.”
“I don’t know how you even thought to do this and how much you had to pay Rachel to go along with it, but you are … you’re my knight in shining armor. I mean, this is like a damn fairy tale.”
