Hollow Sight

by Kristie Pierce

  Wednesday, a huge bonfire will take place in the now unused baseball field. That is usually my favorite though, if I had to pick an event during the week to attend. The class that proves to be the loudest will hold victorious over that event. Thursday is reserved for hallway decorations, each class representing their theme with posters, crepe paper, decorations, and whatnot. And, of course, Friday will be the parade, showing off the floats, the announcing of homecoming king and queen, and obviously the big game.

  “Aren’t you nominated for queen, Breckin?” Claire asks me as she exchanges that same look as before with Morgan.

  Oh. Wait. What?

  I give her a funny look and realize that I hadn’t been paying any attention at school yesterday when they had made the P.A. announcements for the nominees. I never dreamed that I would ever be nominated and it was at the end of the day… so I had been looking at Liam in class, not at all concerned with the intercom. That would explain the smirk he shot into my direction toward the end of class. I’m not particularly popular, so none of this makes sense to me. I don’t care about homecoming. I don't really care about the weeks festivities. And I sure as hell don't care about homecoming royalty. I’m only here today to pass time, so it must be a mistake – or a joke.

  “Um… I was?” I ask with real bewilderment.

  “Well, your name was announced yesterday.” Claire answers hesitantly.

  “Lemme guess, you weren’t listening?” Brooks says as if she’s been included in the conversation the entire time. “That’s just like you – tuning out when it doesn’t relate to you.”

  “I guess I wasn’t. That can’t be right.” I say as I make a face.

  “Oh, it’s right, Breckin. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to believe. You’re a very likable person ya know.” Morgan replies with a smile. “You’re pretty, you play on a varsity sport, everyone likes you.”

  “What if I don’t want to be nominated?” I can’t grasp the concept that I’ve been elected for such a thing. I’m starting to panic. The room is caving in and I can feel sweat beading up on my forehead. “What would they do if I just didn’t show up? That’s it. I won’t show up.”

  “There are half-dozen girls that would love to be you right now, and you’re treating it like it’s some kind of plague. Why can’t you just enjoy it?” Brooks asks in an acerbic tone.

  I shoot Brooks an evil glare, but deep down I know she’s right. She’s usually blunt, although she’s being exceptional unkind today, making her words sting even more. There really is no reason for her callous attitude, so as I fight off the unwelcome feeling of her omniscient attitude, I do my best to ignore her.

  “We’ll help you get ready, Breckin, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” Morgan chimes in excitedly. “I can help you with your hair and Claire can paint your toes. Or vice versa, it doesn’t really matter who does what. Don’t worry about a dress; you can borrow one of mine if you like. I’ve got plenty, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Oh my, do you have a nice coat in case it’s cold…”

  I start to drown her out. My mind is now overloaded with the image of myself, in a long dress, with my hair done up, makeup painted on my face, uncomfortable in my own skin. I only own one dress like the kind you’re expected to wear; a formal dress. I’d worn it to prom the year before, when I had gone with Ben. Boo-hiss. It’s simpler than most, just plain black and open in the back. At least it’s long, so it will cover my legs if it gets chilly. But I can’t picture myself riding in the parade and then standing with Amber, Mariah, Carmen, and whoever else has been nominated. The only reason I know the names of the other three is because I’d heard them gushing over it after school yesterday. Of course they would've been nominated - they’re the obvious choices. I am way out of my league here and don’t stand a chance. Not that I care about losing. It’s the humiliation of it all that has me panicked.

  The rest of the time I spend at the Huntley’s place is a blur. I can’t shake the idea of myself being chosen as a queen candidate and the thought of standing under the football lights with a huge crowd watching is absolutely nauseating. Claire assures me that it won’t be any different than if I were to be swimming at a meet, but I disagree. It will be very different. I won’t be able to get lost in my own little world, and when I swim, I’m very capable of ignoring the crowd. Now everyone’s eyes will be watching only me when they announce my name over those large speakers that carry on for miles. What if I fall? What if my dress rips? There is no way I’m going to be able to confidently walk onto that empty field and stand with any kind of composure. Oh, and heels – I’ll probably have to wear heels. I’m usually not this scared of being in the public eye, but this will be the first time that all eyes will be solely on me. Just me. No matter how short a time, everyone will be looking at only me. This promises to be suffering at the highest level.

  No matter how much I voice my horrified concerns, no one is willing to listen. Everyone else feels that it is a great deal – an honor. Morgan goes on and on, voicing her plans to make me beautiful and Claire offers to dazzle up my too-boring-of-a-dress with her sewing capabilities. When I can't take anymore, I practically run to my vehicle and speed off towards home. It’s not at all where I want to go, but I have no choice.

  As usual, the coming week starts going by too fast because I’m not looking forward to something. I’ve become a hermit for fear of overexposure. I’ve convinced myself that if my peers see me too much, they might vote for me and I don’t want that. Monday, when I arrived to school, there was a bright hot-pink sign hanging from my locker with my name and glittery words spelling out: Queen Candidate. It never failed though, no matter how many times I ripped it down, one would reappear out of nowhere. Tuesday night I didn’t get to enjoy Amber and her friends getting beaten up on the football field being I chose to stay home for this week’s festivities.

  I have just calmed down enough by the time Wednesday rolls around to convince myself that I’ll be okay standing up in front of all those people. Really, it’s the winner that’ll have it bad. No one cares about the nominees nor pays them any attention – it’s the queen everyone will be staring at. That’s sure to be Amber, and I can live with that.

  Wednesday means it’s the night of the big bon-fire and when Claire discovers that I don’t plan on attending, she shows up at my house unannounced and all but drags me out the door. I fight against her and come up with a couple of lame excuses ranging from laundry to homework, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  I’m already in my PJ's when she shows up, charging in my room like a bull dressed in cute skinny jeans and knee-high boots.

  “C'mon! Get dressed,” she orders as she rips my Sociology book from my hands.

  “Excuse me! What the hell are you doing?” I complain.

  Claire starts rummaging through my closet for what she finds appropriate for outside evening activity. She tosses my one pair of designer jeans at me without looking and then goes to my dresser to find a shirt.

  “Oh good, you still have what your idea is of makeup on, so we won't need to waste time redoing that. But run a brush through your hair, it's looking a little nappy.”

  “Thanks. Now get out.” I demand.

  Claire sighs. “This is senior year, Breckin, and you're letting it all pass you by. Suck it up, get dressed, and let's go. ‘Sides, it’s extremely bad manners for a queen candidate to skip on homecoming activities.”

  “Maybe that’s the idea” I say coyly. “Really though, I have lots of homework to do.” I whine then.

  “Live a little. Be an irresponsible young high schooler with me for once and ditch the homework. You won't fail from missing one night of studying.”

  “I don't feel like going.” I admit. She’s now grabbing my dark green corduroy jacket from a peg in my room, studiously ignoring me.

  “Breckin, this is stupid. You're being stupid and your excuses are stupid. I'm not going to take no for an answer, so you might as well just give up
without a fight and quit being so stupid.”

  Counting how many times she has called me stupid and also knowing Claire’s uncanny and annoying ability to never give up on something, I regrettably agree.

  “Try to cheer up. This is going to be fun.” Claire says joyfully as she tosses a button up shirt at me.

  “I’ll try.” I manage to respond while dressing.

  “Try harder. And where are those black boots I had you borrow? Those will look perfect.”

  “I'm wearing my Converse.”

  “Ugh!” She looks completely disgruntled by my choice to wear comfortable sneakers rather than stiletto boots.

  “Look, I'm going, aren't I?”

  “Not good enough,” she chides. “I need more enthusiasm.”

  “Yay.”

  “Really?”

  I shoot her a look as I finish changing, but don't fight her this time when she takes my hand in hers and tugs me toward the door. I give a little wave to Elly and she tells us to have fun and be safe. Opening the passenger side door, it gives a load squeak and I look up to meet Claire’s brown eyes.

  “New car injury?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but there were no witnesses and I left no evidence. I’m still a better driver than Morgan, though. You can’t argue with me there. At least I manage to watch the road,” she notes.

  “Very, very true.” I agree.

  We arrive just as everyone else does. It’s well passed dusk and there are several people gathered around the stack of wood meant to be the fire - stirring and coaxing the kindling to take off. The class advisers all stand around like they belonged to an armed guard; arms crossed over their chests and stern looks painted across their otherwise impassive faces. The one fire truck our little town possesses is there in case the flames become too high, along with the one police cruiser. The entire high school student population seems to be in attendance, but as usual I’m only looking for one person. It’s been weeks since Liam and I have really spoken or spent any kind of time together, and it’s pure agony to be away from him. To my disappointment though, I don’t spot him – the crowd is just too large and it is now pitch dark.

  After an hour or so has passed, I find myself toward the back of the rowdy crowd. Standing in the front, you’re likely to get trampled and I can’t seem to enjoy myself as much as I had the previous years. Adam, along with Chad and Jordan are working very hard to pump up the crowd. There are people hoisted on tops of other people’s shoulders and students with air horns, other kids screaming, and it’s all very loud. Someone has snuck in their pickup truck next to the mob, and 80's heavy metal music blares in the background which just makes it worse in my opinion. When the mosh pitting starts, it actually feels like I’m in the middle of a hard rock concert. Being stepped on isn't exactly my thing, thank you very much, so standing behind everyone is just fine by me. Naturally I’ve lost Morgan and Claire in all the commotion and am now just waiting for the night to be over so I can go home.

  Out of nowhere, I feel a hand clasping around my fingers from behind, lightly pulling me backward. I turn sharply to see who’s invading my space, but should have known from the jolt of electricity that had zapped my skin who it would be. My eyes are forced to adjust to the darkness behind me after staring at the bright orange and yellow flames of the huge fire for so long. It has become so big that I can now feel the heat of the blaze from as far back as I’m standing. After my eyes correct themselves, I see the face I have been yearning to see all along.

  Liam’s skin glimmers in shades of dark warm oranges and yellows from the reflection of the fire. He’s wearing a knit hat that fits snug to his head, covering his sandy hair although a few wispy strands escape from around his forehead. I would think that the vividness of his eyes would be lessened due to the darkness of the night, but the blazing inferno behind us only makes them appear even more intense. He doesn’t say anything – he only tightens his grasp on my hand and starts us walking away from the noisy crowd toward his car. Oh, thank goodness, he brought his car. Once we reach the overcrowded parking lot, he opens the passenger side door for me and I silently clamber in. He slams his door and starts the ignition, driving too fast out of the lot, shifting through the gears of his car quickly.

  I don’t pay any attention to where we’re going, I only stare at him. He holds a very intense expression to which his jaw is taught and his eyes have hardened. He never looks at me, he only keeps his eyes to the road ahead, but I don’t find the usual quiet uncomfortable. His intense expression probably should scare me, but I know that it isn’t meant for me. As he drives, I let my mind run wild with fantasies that include the idea of him and I together in a way I’ve pictured all too many times. Where is he taking me? Some hidden place so that we can be alone? Alone to talk as just friends? I doubt that from the look upon his face. Maybe he’s taking me somewhere so that we can finally steal that kiss. A forbidden kiss that is all too appealing to me now that I’m with him, alone. A kiss that will without any doubt, be the most amazing experience I have yet to know. To feel his soft lips on mine, to taste him, the warmth of his touch against my skin, to be held inside his strong embrace… I have to stop letting my mind lose control like this.

  I’m uncertain how long we’ve been driving, and when we come to a stop, I strain to look at my surroundings through the darkness. It’s pure black outside the windows not giving any hint to our location. Liam still hasn’t said a word the entire drive, but now that we’re parked and entirely alone, I expect that to change.

  He climbs out of the car and walks around to my side. After taking my hand in his, he starts us walking again. My heart is pounding and I can feel my lungs straining for air. I look over to his face to find that his expression remains hard, but not as if he’s angry. The way he furrows his brows and clench’s his jaw makes it appear as if he’s concentrating extremely hard. I look away from him to see in front of me and my eyes are adjusted enough so that I can finally see where we are. The sky has a light haze to it, but it’s thin enough that I can still see the stars and the moon resting low in the sky – a white on black sunset. It looks odd the way it hangs above the horizon, and it has a strange orange tint tonight giving it more of the sunsetty feel. The air has cooled and I can smell the distinct scent of lake water all around. Slightly stagnant and full of wet overgrowth and algae. I look more closely and notice that we’re walking toward a dock that lays low in the water. We must’ve been driving awhile, because the only lake around is twenty or so minutes away. I remember that the Dawson’s have a little lake house they vacation at during summer months and I figure that’s where we have come.

  We reach the dock and our feet create loud clunking sounds against the wooden planks as it echo’s over the still water beneath. Liam lithely hops over the small gap in between the boat deck and the dock. After uncovering the boat as well as lowering it into the water from the hoist, he holds out his hand for mine and helps me over. He pulls a key out of his front jeans pocket and starts the boat engine. It’s a little late in the year for night boating, but I ignore the chill in the air and thank my lucky stars Claire thought my jacket was fashionable enough. He drives until we reach the middle of the lake and then lets the engine die as we float silently into the depths. Liam reaches over to turn the radio on for background noise while I sit in surprise and wonderment for where we are and what he’s doing. Oh God, what is he doing? He looks to the sky for a moment as if for strength or divine intervention, and then finally speaks as he stares into the stars above.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he begins quietly, slowly shaking his head. “I can’t ignore my feelings for you and pretend that I don’t very nearly combust every time I see you. You’re in every thought I have. I wake up wondering if I’m going to see you, and when I do, I can’t think straight. My stomach twists in odd ways and my head spins in circles while my heart promises to break free of my chest. After that last day we spent together, I promised myself that I’d stay out of your way and let you make
the decision without any interference from me. I know that you’re still with him… and if that’s what you’ve chosen… then, please just tell me. I think that I’ve endured more suffering than I can take. I have to know where I stand or if I have a chance of being in your life. I’m losing my mind.”

  I let his words slowly sink in before I answer him. For some-odd reason, I almost can’t believe that he still feels this way even though I’ve heard it before. I’m having a hard time grasping the reality of someone wanting me in the urgent and needy way I want them. It has been weeks since we’ve had any type of interaction. No contact, no conversation. The only thing we’ve managed to steal are a few longing glances. I have to tell him that I want him, too, and if I don’t get to be with him soon, I’ll probably go insane right along with him. Maybe they could lock us up in a little rubber room together.

  He slowly comes around to sit next to me on the long bench seat toward the back of the boat and I can feel his eyes studying my face. I look down to the floorboard while placing my hands under my legs so that I won’t touch him. My brain is very close to losing the battle with my body now. We’re alone, in the middle of a lake, with no witnesses, and the magnets that quiver to touch him are threatening to wildly break free from my limbs. I take a deep, steadying breath, finally managing to look at him so that I can answer his anxious gaze.

  “I… well… the only reason I haven’t ended my relationship with Ben is because I’ve been wanting to do it in person. I think that I at least owe him that. However, every time I think that I’m going to get around to doing it, something comes up. Either he can’t come home or he has something else going on… and this last weekend his dad was sick and in the hospital. Ben was spending most of his time there with him and I didn’t want to add to his stress by breaking up with him. That’s all, nothing more.”