Count On Me

by Melyssa Winchester

  “Dean, don’t fucking start with me. I’m not in the mood.”

  “What you gonna do boy? You gonna hit me because I called your girlfriend a retard?”

  There’s something in the way he draws out the word retard and laughs that completely breaks me. I shove him and I do it hard until he’s falling backward, eventually finding his ass crashing into the table behind him. I’m not done though. I could easily walk away now that he’s on his ass where he belongs, but I can’t stop myself.

  This isn’t about me and the hatred I have for him or for all of the things he’s said to me over the years to try and break me. No, this time I want to pound his face in for Isabelle. She deserves better then to be called a retard. Hell, the girl deserves better than to be called my girlfriend even though I actually like the way that sounds.

  Just like he does with me when he gets in his drunken rages, I kick at him as he lays on the ground until he’s hunched over holding his side, but I still don’t stop. Bending down to his level and reaching my arm back, I punch him, in his face, his stomach, his legs, anywhere I can get an open spot and I keep wailing away until I’m completely worn out.

  “Don’t—you ever—call her—a retard—ever again.” I say slowly as I try to catch my breath. Getting back up to my feet, I stomp into my room and slam the door behind me. I immediately throw myself down on the bed, disgusted with him and myself.

  As hard as I’m trying to be different from the way I’ve always been, what I just did to Dean proves I’m no different. He’s right. I’m the one that started calling her retard first and before he got so stupidly drunk all the time, he’d been the one to tell me that she wasn’t. As different as I want to be, especially for that scared, yet special girl across the street, I really don’t think I can be.

  I’m always going to be exactly like Dean. I’m going to be an asshole and not even she can change it.

  Until she does.

  Are you okay?

  That’s the text I’m met with the minute I pull it from my pants. I know it’s her because it’s a number without a name on my screen.

  I’m fine. Are u ok?

  I text back, more concerned with how she’s handling being alone than I am about myself and what I’m sure is going to come the minute Dean picks himself up off the floor.

  I’m okay.

  I’m really glad that she’s not here because I think she’s lying and there’s no way if we were having this conversation face to face, I’d be able to hide my distrust in her answer. It’s only when my phone goes off again, with the generic ringtone it affords new contacts that I realize I need to assign her one.

  Not sure why it matters, but positive I want to do it, I start scanning through the music in my phone, searching for a song that’s distinctly her. I want to always know when she needs me.

  It’s apparent after I’ve gone through every song I own, that I have no idea what she even likes, so I do the only thing I can. I text her back and ask her. I could have easily just assigned her a random tone, but I’m doing it for another reason. I don’t want the conversation to end. Just in the few minutes since she sent the first text, I feel the rage inside me evaporating and like Dean and his addiction to booze, I need more of it.

  What’s ur fav song?

  God let this work. I silently pray as I wait for her response.

  After a few minutes of radio silence, I begin to give up on hearing from her at all. Just as I toss the phone down onto the bed and prepare to get up, it goes off again and it takes everything in me not to dive back on the bed and grab it.

  Man, can I be more of a girl right now?

  I smile when I see her response on the screen. It’s not a song I have, but it’s one that I can most definitely get if that’s what it takes.

  “A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds To Mars

  Before I can type her back a response, the generic ringtone goes off and I’m met with another message from her. It occurs to me as I read it over, that this might be the best thing I ever did. As okay as I am with the notebook, having her able to text me this way is even better. From now on this might be the way I need to go.

  At least until I can get her to actually open up and speak to me.

  Thank you for today Kayden.

  I wish she had half a clue what seeing that happy face does for me. I can’t quite explain it to myself, but I really wish she could know. It’s like when she does it, it’s all I can see and I want more of it, especially after the day we’ve had. I always want her making happy faces.

  Even if wanting that makes me sound like a total pussy.

  She doesn’t have to thank me for what happened, but it’s nice that she does. When she walked away from me this morning, I thought for sure I wouldn’t get the chance to make things right with her. As horrible as what happened is, it did give me the chance to do the right thing, something I’m not the most familiar with, but I just have to do with her.

  Isabelle deserves the right thing, even if the right thing isn’t me.

  Ur welcome.

  I pause before sending the text, not sure I like it the way it is. I want to say more, but I don’t have a clue what more there is to say. I just know I don’t want this to end. I like the way I feel, the way I am when she’s talking to me, whether it’s in text or writing in her notebook the way she does. I don’t feel like such a fuck up.

  Knowing exactly what I want to text now that I’ve thought it through, I type it all out and hit send before I have the chance to regret it and erase it. This time though, I’m not going to stick around and wait for the response. No, I’m going to walk away and deal with the fallout with Dean. If I stay here waiting for a response and none comes, I’m not sure I’m going to want to step foot out of my room again, that’s how much her and the silly emotes have gotten to me.

  Holy shit.

  I’m falling for Isabelle.

  Chapter Eleven

  Belle

  Ur welcome. Can I drive u to school tomorrow?

  It’s been a week since he sent that text to me and I still haven’t deleted it off my phone. I don’t know why I kept it or even why seeing it a week later still makes me so happy, it just does. He’s sent me the same text every single night for the last week, asking if he can take me to school, yet I don’t save any of the other ones.

  Only this one.

  The day after Amy and her friends hurt me, I didn’t go to school. I talked to my mom, told her everything, she bandaged the spot where they placed the cigarette to my arm and called the school board about it. Even after she took care of it, I still didn’t feel strong enough to go back.

  The day after, I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Since my mom called the board, Amy, Charlotte and Eve had been suspended and even though he helped me, they were still his friends. It didn’t help that I texted him the night before, telling him that he couldn’t drive me because I wasn’t going. I did it so he wouldn’t feel burdened, but there he was the minute the bus pulled up, wearing the same smile he had the day at his house before everything went crazy.

  Not only did he walk me to Ms. Taylor’s class that day and every other one after, but he was also there waiting for me when it ended, taking me outside to the tree and sitting under it with me. I’m pretty sure he hated every second of it, with the looks and laughs we got, but he didn’t ever make a move to leave.

  It hasn’t been easy for me coming back. I still hear the whispers in the hall even though Kayden does his best to shield me from it. I see the way people look at us, wondering what the hell he’s doing with the school retard. By the end of the week I’m waiting for him to crack, give up on what he’s been doing, but he never does.

  The way he is only makes me want to talk to him more. Not texting the way we have been, but actual talking. I want to be able to open my mouth and have words come out, the way I did in the bathroom, but no matter how hard I try, I’m still not there yet. He seems to understand because he doesn’t push me. He just points
to the phone and smiles.

  Despite everything that I see and hear going on around us, this is probably the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.

  The only problem is, my mom doesn’t know about any of it. I come home from school every day and we talk, so she can see that I’m doing alright, but I never bring up the reason for it. I just talk to her about what Ms. Taylor has us doing or what Tristan has been telling me when we’ve hung out and leave it at that until I go to bed. I’m not sure why I don’t tell her. It’s not like she hates him. She used to talk about him a lot, especially after his mom took off and then occasionally over the years. She feels a lot where he’s concerned and would probably understand everything easily, but I just can’t bring it up.

  I want to keep it to myself for a little while longer.

  There’s something different about him today. He seems nervous about something. Whenever I catch myself staring at him, I take in the way he moves and acts and it’s obvious something isn’t right. I want to ask him about it, but with how good everything’s been, I’m scared of making it worse. The last thing I want after the week I’ve had is for him to go running in the other direction.

  Just as I finish packing up my stuff and get ready to meet him in the hall, keeping to the exact same routine we’ve been doing all week, my phone goes off. Stopping by the door and ignoring the look Ms. Taylor is giving me, her eyebrows raised and the hint of a smile on her lips, I pull out my phone and see his name at the top of my screen.

  God, how badly I want to smile at this. It’s been so long since I’ve done it that I’m not even sure my cheek muscles can handle it anymore. They might be stuck this way forever, the same way your tongue gets stuck to a frozen pole. That’s what happened to the guy in A Christmas Story anyway.

  Can you meet me in the parking lot? I want to show u something off campus.

  He knows how I feel about routines. How much I need them in order to feel okay. He’s actually been going out of his way this week to make sure we stick to it, so this change is unsettling to me.

  As much as I don’t want to focus on the past, it’s hard not to remember the last time I went into the parking lot alone. Sure, it all brought me to now, with Kayden spending every spare minute he has with me, but it still doesn’t change the fear I have inside about going out there again. When he’s with me, I don’t have to feel afraid, but to take the steps on my own, well, I’m not quite sure I can handle it.

  I don’t know…

  His response is immediate.

  Trust me Belle. I won’t let anyone hurt u.

  Okay…

  I make my way to my locker, all the while checking around me, making sure that no one’s around. Once I’ve grabbed my lunch, I slam my door shut and prepare to make my way out to meet him. It’s only as I make my way past the office, a few steps away from the door that I see him.

  Dillon.

  The look on his face is as evil as always. Some book I read the other day says the devil can walk around among us and I swear if it’s true, Dillon is the devil because the only thing I want to do when I’m within a foot of him, is run in the other direction.

  Why did Kayden have to pick today to want to do something different?

  As I do my best to ignore him, making my way past him to the doors that will take me to his friend, I hear my name and my heart freezes in my chest, the same way my feet do.

  My phone chooses that second to go off and looking down at it, I see that again, it’s Kayden.

  I can see u. Hurry up.

  Typing as quickly as I can manage, I press send and hope that he gets it quickly. Sometimes when we’re texting, the messages we send don’t go through and this is definitely not the time for that to happen. I need him.

  Pls come inside. Help.

  I don’t breathe the entire time I stand there, at least not until I hear the familiar tone and look down and see his response.

  Omw.

  It’s stupid, but with the way everything’s been since that day, I’ve felt more confident moving through the halls, even with the looks. All of that can change though and as I turn and face the guy that called my name, I realize that if he keeps looking at me the way he is, it’s most definitely going to change.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you, Isabelle. I just wanted to say sorry.”

  He’s kidding right?

  I shake my head, not wanting to hear the lie and he takes a step toward me. My body, frozen in place, can’t even move to step backward.

  Where’s Kayden?

  “I know you don’t believe me, but I swear to you. I am sorry. Amy and the others took it too far and I’ve lost my best friend because of it.”

  I don’t want to believe a word he’s saying, but there’s this look in his eyes that makes me feel something other than fear. I feel bad for him. Kayden has been spending a lot of time with me, barely hanging out with the other guys anymore, so maybe there is some truth in what he’s saying. Maybe he does want to do the right thing.

  I can’t respond to him, at least not in a way he’ll understand. It’s one thing for me to nod my head at Kayden or even the teachers and have them understand because they’re used to it, but with Dillon, he won’t get it.

  “I know you called him since I see him running, but I really hope sometime we can sit down and talk. I want to make things right.”

  He turns his back to me and I’m finally able to breathe again. Sucking in as much air as I possibly can, I turn and run straight into the very guy I’d been waiting on seconds before.

  “I got you. Are you okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, so only I can hear him, his eyes leveled in the opposite direction. They’re full of the anger I’ve come to see is second nature in him and it’s all directed at his best friend.

  I nod my head and he tightens his hold on me.

  “Let’s go then. You can tell me about this in the car.”

  He turns his body, fully prepared to pull me along with him, but before we can take the few steps it would take to make it outside, Dillon speaks again.

  “I’m gonna make this shit right, K, even if you don’t want me to.”

  Kayden

  Two weeks ago if you asked me if I would’ve run to the rescue of a girl when she texted me the word help, I would have laughed at you. Hell, it didn’t even have to be Isabelle. I’m just not the guy that drops whatever he’s doing and runs like a knight in shining armor, but the minute I got her text that’s exactly what I did.

  If I moved half as fast on the football field, I know for a fact that Dillon wouldn’t be the QB. I would have kicked him out of the spot ages ago. It amazed me how fast I jumped out of my car, not giving a shit that the keys were still inside and booked it across the front lawn.

  I knew there was something wrong the minute I saw her appear at the front of the school yet she made no move to come outside. Add that she texted me the short form of please, which she never does and there is nowhere else I needed to be. Screw the car; let someone steal it for all I cared. I just had to get to her.

  Dillon being that close to her tore me apart. I’ve been doing everything in my power to keep them all away from her. The last thing she needs after being tortured and burned by these people is another go round. Sure, Amy and the others were suspended, but it all came back to Dillon. I have no doubt that they want another shot at her for getting caught and I wasn’t willing to give it to them.

  He needs to stay far away from her or what happened in the parking lot a little over a week ago would look tame. He already deserves so much more.

  What he said before I got her out of there makes me sick. Him making things right is bullshit. I don’t know what his game is, but I swear I’ll find out before he gets to accomplish it. He will not get within a foot of Isabelle while I still have breath in my lungs. He never does anything without an ulterior motive and I’m damn sure this time is no different.

  The problem is, I think she believes him. She hasn’t said a whole lot since we
got in the car, but I can tell something’s off. She didn’t look as afraid of him when I got there as I expected, which meant that whatever he said got through to her.

  I want her to tell me. Hell, I want her to open her mouth and say anything right now, but I know that’s impossible. I know she can talk, she told me that much one night when we were texting. There’s just something that prevents her from doing it at school and especially around me. I want to find out what it is though because I want to fix it.

  I’ve only heard her say three things but every single time, I liked the sound of it. When she yelled at us when we had Eric strung up, I didn’t like the tone because it didn’t seem right coming from her, but I did like the sound. My favorite might be when she said my name that first day though. I just can’t tell her that. She’s already under enough pressure to talk to me. I don’t need to make it worse.

  What did you want to show me?

  The minute she puts the notebook down, I see her familiar scrawl and smile. Isabelle does a lot of different things I can’t entirely figure out or understand, but this is one thing I did get. She didn’t waste time with small talk when she wanted answers. She got right to the point.

  “I wanted to take you off campus for lunch.” I answer knowing it’s not the answer she’s looking for, but not wanting to give too much away. “I even cleared it with the office and everything.”

  Isabelle and some of the others in her class; they aren’t allowed to go off campus for lunch. At least not without having it cleared through a million different channels first. I know about it because I’ve seen it happen before. My memory might not be the best, but I’m glad in this instance it didn’t fail me because the minute I dropped her off this morning, I started the channel ball rolling.

  So where are you taking me?

  “Well if I tell ya that, it’ll ruin the surprise. So just sit back, get comfortable and enjoy.”

  It’s calculated and well thought out what I do next, but the minute I do it, I know it’s the right move. Turning on the stereo and turning the volume up just enough for her to still be able to hear me reply if she writes, I scroll through my iPod until I find the right music. The minute the band starts playing; I look across and I’m met with the best reaction.