Hollow Sight

by Kristie Pierce

  After seeing Amber follow Liam around and babbling like the sugar pop-bubbly-dream-teen she pretends to be, I remember that I’d meant to ask him about that. It doesn’t bother me quite as much as it had before –obviously he’s only humoring her – but I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t bother me just a little. Okay, more than a little - it’s maddening. It’s hard to watch him talking to her and smiling with her when I can’t. He should be doing all that with me. I again wonder if it would bother me so much if it were anyone else. Probably not. In Calculus, I happened to overhear Amber ask Liam one day if he had noticed his personal cheering team at his last soccer match – something she had pulled together last minute to encourage the team. I didn’t hear his answer, only saw him give her an impassive smile. Obviously that encouraged her and my pencil snapped in my hand when she giggled and reached over to touch his hand. He did happen to slyly avert the contact which made me happy, but now I have to think about Amber following Liam to his soccer games as well. I can only imagine what she thinks to be appropriate “cheer” attire for that.

  I caught Liam looking at me only once the entire week – which I admit, made me feel completely pathetic as I was, as always, looking at him. It was Friday and Mr. Steven’s had the class separate into groups to work on some lame math equation he thought would be better worked through with the help of a small grouping of peers. I wasn’t lucky enough to have Liam in my group, but he was at the gathering of desks next to me. When I found it hard to pay any more attention to the two boys I’d been paired with – one an obvious math geek, and another boy who seemed about as interested as I was with the project – I began to twirl a strand of hair in my fingers and absentmindedly look around the room. I felt the vibrant color of his eyes locked on me before I could glance at him. The heat of his stare reached all the way over to my skin and I sheepishly smiled when I summoned the guts to look at him. He returned the gesture although looking ten times hotter as he did it, and deviously winked, causing me to blush. I managed to look away after a minute but thought I saw him mouth something to himself as I did.

  The ghastly old man didn’t make any kind of reappearance, and for that I was extremely glad. Of course the normal babble of voices were there all around – more so at night, but as always, I was pretty good at turning it off. I only opened up that flood gate for Sera.

  And so now it’s Saturday and I lay in bed going through the speech I’ve already memorized for Ben. I know exactly what I’m going to say. I shall keep it simple and to the point. I plan to tell him that we’re simply heading in different directions and want different things. Straightforward and somewhat generically uncomplicated. I’ve tried to prepare myself for any reaction he might have. I know, for the most part, what I will do if he cries, becomes angry, or sits like a deaf-mute. It still won’t be easy, but I’ve already mentally detached myself away from him. All that’s left to do now is technically end the relationship, and I am very ready for that.

  It’s getting to be unbearable being without Liam. Now that I know how he feels, I want to be with him more than ever. It’s so crazy to want someone so intensely, so soon – deep down, I know that. I’ve just met him for crying out loud and now I can’t imagine my life without him. I remember our night together in the pool and my head swirls. But I feel it in my gut that what I’m doing is right. Liam and I are meant to be together.

  Ben was supposed to arrive around noon, but after an hour passes I give up and call him. When he finally answers his cell phone, I ask where he is and he blabs out some lame excuse that involves helping his friend and studying for an exam. Studying, on a Saturday, living on a college campus? Yeah, sure. He said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t make it down after all. He didn’t sound sorry at all, and was that a girl I’d heard in the back ground? I sort of hope so. If he has someone on the side, maybe she’ll take away the distraction of our break up. God, I sound dysfunctional.

  But now I’ll have to suffer through another week without Liam.

  The next weekend comes around quickly thanks to a busy week. We had two swim meets and Coach Dawson was more than happy when our team had won both by an exceptionally large margin. When I’d finished my last event, I indolently looked up into the cheering bleachers and saw Liam sitting with Chad, Adam, and Wyatt. When he met my gaze, he winked that heart shattering wink of his, to which of course I smiled hugely like a complete moron. I saw him laugh, but I couldn’t help it. Whenever he shoots me that sly little wink, the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.

  When it comes time for Saturday again, Ben manages to cancel on me a second time. Even though he had promised to come down for the weekend, he now has yet another lame excuse. Unfortunately, I’m getting used to Ben’s broken promises; he’s been doing it more and more. When I recall all of them, I can’t help but think maybe I do have a little justification in breaking up with him after all – other than the fact that I’m in love with someone else of course. He invited me to make the drive up for the day, but I remember how the first and last visit I’d made went, and so then I decline.

  I briefly think of the day Ben had made the move to his dorm before the semester had started, and I naturally offered my help when he’d asked. However, the entire visit was spent with Ben acting as if I were a nuisance or completely non-existent. He kept making snide remarks to his friends about me still being in high school and when he did manage to talk to me, his tone was usually displeased as if having me there wasn’t at all what he’d wanted. I’d spent the entire visit moving in box after cardboard box, unloading his clothes and his endless stack of CD's, organizing the small narrow kitchen, cleaning and dusting, contemplating the meaning of our relationship while listening to re-runs of a reality TV show I hated play in the background. Why am I feeling guilty about breaking up with him again?

  The next Saturday I am more than ready to break up with Ben. If he doesn’t show up today, I am going to Plan B, which involves an all-too-easy phone call. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t stoop to that, but I’m becoming beyond impatient. I know that Ben is in town because I’d spotted his car parked in his parent’s driveway the night before. I usually didn’t pass his house after practice, but I’d decided to make a little detour. Stalking one-oh-one.

  Liam and I have kept our distance, although it’s getting harder and harder acting as if I don't want to throw myself at him every time we see one another. The magnets residing inside my arms remain impatient as the twitchy feelings that always overtake when Liam is within reaching distance cause my hands to shake. It’s now normal for my palms to have slightly embedded indentations from my fingernails after balling my hands into fists to keep from throwing my arms around his neck. It’s unbearable being without him.

  At the exact moment I’m expecting Ben to appear, the phone rings. It’s exactly like déjà vu. If I answer and Ben is on the other end of the receiver telling me he can’t come, I vow to break up with him right then and there, no matter what the reason is for him canceling. I don’t care if it means I’m heartless and cruel; I have better things waiting for me. Liam has been so patient and making him wait so long is just plain selfish.

  I quit pacing across the living room and walk into the kitchen to answer the phone.

  “Hello?” I answer acidly after reading the caller ID.

  “Hey, Kenny,” Ben begins. Grrrr. “I’m sorry, but I have to cancel on you again,” he replies then. I’m much too infuriated to notice that his tone’s off.

  “What’s the problem now, Ben?” I hiss.

  It becomes quiet for a few seconds between us before he answers me.

  “My dad is in the hospital. He was complaining of stomach pain last night and then early this morning he collapsed on the floor. Don’t worry, he’s okay now.”

  All my anger instantly washes away, now being replaced with a nauseating worry uncurling in my stomach for Mr. Valentine. He’s always been so nice and caring toward me. I think he felt a little sorry that I didn’t have a father of
my own, and so he stepped in as a father figure when I had needed one. Working on my Bronco, tuning it and checking the tire pressure. Fixing the back bumper when it had fallen off. Teaching me how to change a flat tire. I knew all the warmhearted things he’d done for me were out of the goodness of his heart, and nothing to do with the fact that I was dating his son. I grasp the counter with one hand for support. All my previous thoughts and irritations have been evaporated with my sudden concern for this man’s health. I hadn’t noticed, but my hand is trembling, shaking the phone at my ear.

  “Is he all right? What happened?” I choke out.

  “He’s going to be fine. But he had emergency surgery around four o’clock this morning. I don’t get to come down here much except for on the weekends, so I’d like to spend some time with him.”

  “But what happened!?” I asked again, fighting back tears.

  “It was his appendix. If the doctor hadn’t taken him to surgery, it probably would’ve burst this morning. He’s lucky they got to it when they did.”

  I know from my experience with going to the hospital with my mom after call-ins, that if an appendix were to rupture it’s usually very bad. Relief floods through me as I accept that Mr. Valentine will probably be okay – appendectomies are usually pretty quick as far as procedures go and recoveries are, too – but I’d still like to see him. He’s always been so nice to me, I’d like to return the gesture any way I can.

  “Do you think he’d mind if I came, too?”

  “He’s pretty drugged up. He probably won’t even know I’m there because he’s so stoned. But I can’t be here during the week, so that’s why I’m going,” Ben replies in a hurried tone.

  I remember my previous plan and for or a split second I think about asking Ben to come to my house after he’s done at the hospital. I bite my tongue when I figure that would be a bad idea. He’s clearly upset – a novelty for him, although I can hear it in his voice – and here I want to add to his pain. My heart sinks with the realization that I will not be breaking up with him today.

  “I have to go now. I’ll call you later, I love you.” Ben says when I don’t respond.

  The last three words out of Ben’s mouth stun me into complete silence. I honestly can’t remember the last time either of us has said them. I’m not capable of returning the sentiment, though. I love someone else.

  “Okay, tell your dad I said to feel better. Bye.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything else.

  What am I going to do now? I almost ignore the fact that I’ve basically been banned from the hospital and go anyway. But then I think the temptation to end my relationship with Ben will be too much, and I’m not up for acting like everything is all hunky-dory in front of everyone. I’d finished my homework the night before, impressing both myself and Elly. There was a soccer match last night on home turf, and I wanted to go, but instead I tried to keep my mind occupied with studying. After that, I started an Art project for extra credit. It didn't feel like work to me because I love the subject so much. But unfortunately that only kept my hands busy. I was free to daydream and that just lead to impatience. Although if I’m being completely honest, I was afraid of what I might do if I went to the soccer match. More than likely I would’ve stayed after the game to wait for Liam and I know without a doubt that inappropriate behavior would have ensued. So tempting, though.

  And now, just like that, Liam occupies my love-sick brain. It’s Saturday and he’ll be working at the Schumacher’s farm. If I hadn't been squeezing my eyes shut the entire ride and paying attention to where we were going when Liam took me there, I would drive out to the property to see him. Friends can hang out, right?

  I could call Morgan or Claire. Next week is homecoming and planning for the event is now underway. Brooks, along with the Student Council has decided on “Board Games” for the theme and they need all the help they can get for float decorating. I really am not all that excited about homecoming, but I have nothing better to do. At least that will be somewhat of a distraction being surrounded by over-excited chaos and chatter.

  The class float is being assembled at Wyatt Huntley’s place for fact that he lives a short distance from the school, and his dad had just built a large pole barn. After texting Claire, she informed me that everyone would be meeting at the Huntley’s in an hour. It won’t take long to get there, so I dink around the house trying to pass the time. I do the left over dishes from breakfast and vacuum the rugs. They really don’t need it, but Elly has been called into work, so I feel whatever I do to help will please her and make life a little simpler. After that, I clean the bathroom and throw a small load of Elly's clothes into the washer. I find Abigail’s tattered Frisbee and join her out back for a little fetch. After she’s good and worn out, we both head in.

  I glance at the clock and decide that it’s probably safe to leave now. It’s chillier today, so I grab a light jacket. Fall is definitely in the air and I couldn’t be happier about it. As I drive, I marvel at the trees that are changing colors. The leaves have begun the transformation into different assortments of oranges, coppers, yellows, and reds. The wind is delicately blowing, causing the decaying leaves to fall in spirals to the ground and blow lightly across the road. I imagine Liam pushing me in the tire swing under the big oak tree he had taken me to. The big tree has to be gorgeous with the changing colors. I picture it to be covered in bright yellows and gold’s.

  When I arrive to the Huntley’s it looks as though half the senior class is there. The entire front yard is now covered with cars scatteredly parked about. I decide to park my car on the street so I will have an easy escape if needed. As I approach the large pole barn, I can hear that there’s already a debate going on regarding decorations. Jeesh. Ten minutes in, and there’s already bickering.

  “… I think that foam board would be best. It’s sturdier, thus making it able to hold up to the weather.” Brooks says as I walk through the door. She’s talking to Amber and I suddenly want to do an about-face and leave.

  “But it’s so ugly and dull. Kind of like Breckin’s clothes,” Amber sneers as she spots me. “I really think that poster board will be better. It comes in all different colors, too.”

  I flip her the bird without looking at her and keep walking. Her audible gasp is victory enough for me. My jeans and long sleeved green cotton shirt are just fine, thank you very much. Luckily Brooks doesn’t throw a jab at me either, which I wouldn’t have put passed her. Depending on the day, she can be just as hateful as Amber.

  “We can paint the foam, Amber. It can be any color we want.” Brooks says firmly. I know that tone. She’s not wavering.

  “But won’t that cost more money? I thought we were on a budget, Brooks,” Amber hisses. I hate to admit it, but she has a point. Class budgets are always lacking for extra money, but Brooks doesn’t sway.

  “Amber, it’s likely to rain knowing our luck and poster board will get ruined with the water. We’re using foam!”

  I’m not about to get into that conversation. It doesn’t matter to me either way. This is exactly why I tend to stay away from situations like this. This has to be one of the most ridiculous arguments I have ever heard. When I notice Claire sitting in one of the corners of the barn with Morgan, I go to join them. They’re cutting shapes out of cardboard and from what I can see, the cutouts are meant to be letters.

  “Hey, Breckin,” Claire greets when I sit down. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Hey. What'chya doin'?”

  “It’s the quote we’re using for the float. When it’s finished we’re going to staple it to the bottom so that when the float travels by, people will be able to read it.” Morgan answers in her usual, upbeat voice. “It’ll say, Shatter those Cowboys. Get it? Because the town is named Glass? Aaaannndd because the game our class picked is Ice Breaker.”

  “Clever. Need any help?” I ask, looking for a pair of scissors.

  They both look at me in surprise and then to each other, exchanging a look that makes
me think I’m missing out on something. It’s no secret that I don’t enjoy this sort of thing, but for cripe sakes I’m not that against helping out. Morgan finds me a pair of sheers and instructs me as to what I need to do. I cut quietly while they talk eagerly about the upcoming week and the events and games that have been planned. Every night of the week a different activity will take place in an effort to entertain the students and raise a little money for the school. Whichever class wins the scheduled events will receive points toward the mock competition that each class fervently fights for every year. At the end of the week, the winning class will be announced at halftime and given some sort of trophy at the football game. After four years in high school, I still am unsure what it is exactly that the class receives.

  Monday there will be a carnival that’ll be held in the student parking lot. It’s usually something that allows the classes to raise more money for their budgets as the community comes out to support the school. It’s normally a good time with typical carnival games and yummy fair food. Tuesday, there is to be a powder-puff football game using a handful of girls from each grade. Freshman will play the juniors and the sophomores are to compete with the seniors. The winners of each game play the other and with that, so do the losers. I always enjoyed watching that. Amber usually plays, and I take great joy in watching her face getting mashed into the mud. Secretly of course. But what makes it completely hilarious, is the fact that most of the football players dress up as cheerleaders. Stuffing their shirts with over-exaggerated fullness using balloons for boobs while wearing skirts, painting their faces with what they must think girls do with makeup, and squealing and clapping like excited teenage girls.