Count On Me

by Melyssa Winchester

  The more I’m there for her, the less my mom’s words haunt me, almost like I’m doing what she knew I would all along. I’m actually feeling the changes too; they aren’t just inside me. I don’t hate as deeply as before, which is proven with the way I am with Dillon now.

  He came up to us about two days after I asked her to be mine, trying to talk to me. When he didn’t get his way, he went through Isabelle the way I expected him to, except her being her, she did answer him back. Eventually he started coming around more and he didn’t try to talk to me. He only talked to her. It’s easier to not want to kill him and see what she’s seen for the last two weeks when I see the way he is with her.

  We won’t ever be what we were, but if this is real and he means what he says, I can’t hate him anymore.

  Does it mean that I trust him completely or that I think he’s not playing a game that somehow involves my girlfriend? No. I still think there’s more going on, but until I can find some kind of proof, I’ve got to go with the flow.

  “You asked her to the dance yet?”

  After talking with Coach, I’ve just been chilling in the locker room, already suited up for practice and waiting for the others to show up. I’d been so caught up listening to her voice file and my own thoughts; I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone.

  “You mean the ‘everyone gets drunk, makes asses of themselves and screws like rabbits’ thing that happens in a couple days?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. You ask her yet?”

  Truth is, I haven’t asked her and it’s because I’m afraid to. I bought the tickets at the beginning of the week, wanting nothing more than to take my girlfriend to the dance after I play one of the most important games of my life. Having the tickets means nothing though, not when I’m not sure how to bring it up with her.

  She’s never been to a football game before and I know for a fact that she’s never been to a school dance either. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s not her thing or because of everything she’s been through, but it makes me wary to ask. I’m not a school dance guy, but this year, it’s all different.

  I did these things before because it was a way to get the people around me to shut up about it. I actually want to go to this game, win it with her cheering in the crowd, get dressed, pick her up and spend the night with her wrapped tightly in my arms while we dance together. I want to experience everything instead of just gliding through it after being forced.

  I’m just not sure she feels the same. So I’ve kept my damn mouth shut even though we walk by the decorations every single day.

  “No, not yet. I’m not really sure it’s her thing.”

  “It’s every girl’s thing, K.”

  “What did I tell you about that?”

  “Jeez man. Sorry. Look, I know she’s different, but I’ll bet my position on the team that she wants to go to the dance. You need to ask her before someone else does.”

  I finally get on a level where I don’t want to punch him in the face every time I see him and he has to go and say something like that. I’m not against most of what he said, but the way he sounds when he talks about someone else asking her, makes me insane.

  “No one is going to ask her to the dance but me.”

  He can think he’s changed all he wants, but he definitely won’t be taking her. That will happen over my dead body.

  “Chill man, I just mean that since you two hooked up, people are noticing her more. She’s not quite the freak she used to be.”

  “She’s mine. I don’t care whose noticing her, they aren’t getting her. Ever.”

  “You really like her don’t you?”

  This is the strangest conversation. I can’t believe it. Us sitting around talking about my feelings for Isabelle, since a week ago I wanted to run him down with my car.

  “Screw off. I’m not talking about that shit with you.”

  “So that’s a yes.”

  I throw the balled up towel at him and laugh as it hits its mark. It’s only when he tosses it back that I realize what’s happening. It’s like old times with Dillon again. The stupid way we used to be before the team, girls and competition got in the way. He’s obviously not the only one that missed it because the way I feel now, I did too.

  “Ask the girl to the damn dance, Kayden.”

  Before I can come up with a response, I hear my phone vibrating against the inside of the locker. Reaching up and grabbing it down, I slide open my messages and I’m met with another reason why I love this girl so damn much. She knows how I worry about her, especially after everything that’s happened and she’s giving me what I needed to chill out.

  I’m on the bus. Miss you <3

  With Dillon’s words playing in my head, I start typing out the question I need to ask her. It hits me pretty quick that this is definitely not the way to ask a girl to the dance. Erasing the message and starting again, I keep myself on track.

  I would see her in a few hours anyway and that’s when I’d ask her and as I hit send, I know exactly how I wanna do it.

  Not as much as I miss you, princess. See you soon <3

  As I put my headphones back over my head, I scroll my way into the voice files and put the sound of her laughter on repeat, closing my eyes and enjoying the sound. It’s this that’s gonna get me through the next three hours and probably the most grueling practice of my life. So until the guys drag me away, the only thing I want to hear is her in my head.

  Exactly the way she already is in my heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Belle

  I’m going to the Homecoming Dance.

  Not only that, but when he came over the night before, he asked me to be there to watch him play too. In fact, he said that he wouldn’t go out on the field unless I showed up.

  It’s strange how it all happened. He came over after practice, just like he’s been doing for the last week, but this time instead of coming right for me, he went to my mom first. After waiting on the other side of the kitchen wall, trying to hear some of what they were talking about and failing, they finally made their way out and everything came out.

  *****

  “I need to talk to you about something Belle. It’s kind of important.”

  I nod my head slowly and he motions toward the sofa, wanting me to sit. He stands waiting until I do it and then sits down beside me. I’m scared to find out what he wants to talk to me about, but with him looking at me that way, his eyes so bright and the tiny smirk on his face, I’m comforted enough that whatever it is, it’s not bad.

  “I wanted to talk to your mom about it first because what happens actually depends on her more than it does you. Well, sort of.”

  My mom, standing in the doorway of the living room, smiles at me and it’s because of that smile that I stop worrying. If he feels comfortable enough going to her with it, then it really isn’t anything bad. She might have her hands full with me, but she wouldn’t let him hurt me.

  “Isabelle, even though I waited way too long to ask you, I need to know. Will you be my date to Homecoming?”

  It’s no surprise when the tears start spilling.

  I nod my head, still not sure how I feel about going to the dance. What I do know though is that he’s the only one I want to do something like this with.

  “There’s actually something else too.” He pauses; his face scrunches up like he’s trying to figure out how to say it and I can’t help but smile. He has no idea, but his face right now reminds me of a squirrel. I blush the minute I think it and he notices, because his eyebrows raise and he laughs.

  “Why are you blushing?”

  Pulling my phone out of my sweater, I start texting and when I finally finish and send it, I sigh. He’s going to think I’m silly.

  When you’re thinking about stuff, you look like a squirrel.

  He laughs loud, but unlike times before, I don’t jump or flinch. Things have been happening that way lately. Its proof that the more time we spend together, the more comfortable I feel
.

  “Okay, well this squirrel needs you to come to the football game on Friday and he’s not taking no for an answer. If you don’t say yes, I won’t play at all.”

  I can’t let him do that. Football is something he enjoys and the team needs him. I don’t want to be the reason that the team loses the game.

  I nod hesitantly. Going to the game is the last thing I want. I don’t understand sports and knowing me, I’ll just make a fool of myself by cheering at the wrong time. I already have to adapt to being the girlfriend of a football player, the last thing I want to do is embarrass both of us publicly.

  The alternative is him not playing and well, that can’t happen. I won’t let it. So as nervous as I am about all of this, I have to see it through.

  “Does that nod mean you’ll do it?”

  I nod again, more sure this time and he grins, his eyes shining.

  “Just so you know, I still would have played. I just wanted you there because I don’t think I can play to win without you. You’re my charm.”

  *****

  So here I am, on the city bus after texting Kayden and telling him I was safe. I’m about to make my way on my own to the doctor. It might not be the school bus the way he thinks, but since he isn’t supposed to see me until later anyway, it’s not like I have to worry about it.

  The last time I was here, the doctor called my issues social anxiety, something that if my mother was willing, could be treated with medication or even different forms of therapy. I don’t doubt that it had something to do with anxiety or in my case, absolute fear, but now that I’m surrounded by people that I no longer have to fear, I’m ready to find out what the new explanation will be.

  I only hope that it’s something that can be fixed. If it’s related to the autism, I’ll learn to be okay with it, but something tells me that it’s not that kind of problem. This is something more and with the way I can write to Kayden when doing it usually overwhelms me with most people, I need to get answers once and for all. I’m not going to run from it anymore the way I did before.

  I owe it myself to figure it out.

  Kayden

  She’s hiding something.

  I’ve had my head in the game so much the last couple of days that even when I’m with her, I know I’m not entirely with her, at least not the way I wanna be. Maybe the only thing that’s off is, she’s sensing my disconnection, so she’s pulling away. I can’t shake the feeling though, that there’s something she’s hiding from me.

  Asking her about it, there’s just never a good time. If we aren’t being shadowed by my annoying best friend, we’re in and out of classes or she’s off with her mother in an attempt to find the world’s most beautiful dress. We’re spending less and less time with each other and when we are together, we’re so lost in our own thoughts and shit that we don’t actually do much talking.

  She’s been helping me with math lately and I do need the help, but truthfully, it’s an excuse I came up with so I didn’t have to go home. Dean’s been getting worse by the minute and anytime I am back there, all we do is argue, call each other names, fight or threaten to end each other. It’s toxic and it’s because of all the time I’m spending at her house, seeing the way a normal family can be that I see it clearly. Something has got to give between my brother and me and it has to soon, because if it doesn’t, I’m almost afraid one of us is gonna end up dead.

  Aside from the math help, we haven’t talked much at all. There’s been stuff about the dance and she asks me what she can expect at the game, but it falls apart after that. I just wish she trusted me enough to tell me what’s actually going on in her mind. I can tell there’s something there, but I can’t help her fight until I know what I’m helping her fight against.

  Part of me thinks that Amy’s up to no good again, but the one time I bring it up to Dillon all he does is shake his head at me. Nothing happens in the school without me or Dillon knowing about it, so if he’s saying no then it’s gotta be true. If it’s not trouble with Amy, or even Charlotte or Eve, then just what the hell is it?

  I wonder sometimes if being with me is more than she signed up for. Like, maybe it’s too much and she just doesn’t know how to end it. I want to believe she isn’t like that, but the only real thing I’ve got to base it on is the way my mom up and left. If she could do it so easily and I’m her son, it’s gotta be simple for a girl, even if she’s more than just a girl to me.

  I don’t want to fail her, let her down or be who I was before, but all this stressing out and worrying that I’m doing is really starting to drive me insane. It’s making me wish for the times when everything was easier. Walking the halls without a girl on my arm and creating havoc every chance I got is preferable to the unease I feel at not knowing just what the hell is going on.

  She wasn’t all that different with me earlier, but then again, she never is. She smiled at me like always, held my hand, kissed me back at all the right times. Everything is as amazing as it always is, but no matter how perfect it all looks on the surface, shaking the feeling that something is waiting to boil over is hard.

  It’s all I can think about as Coach has us running drills. I can hear him yelling at me and I’m doing what he says, my body being worn down in the process, but it’s robotic because I’m flooded with thoughts of her.

  Where she is right now, what she’s doing, if she’s thinking of me like I am with her. It’s all repeating in a constant loop and no matter how much I try to drown the questions out, focusing on the action on the field, I can’t do it.

  It’s only when practice is over that I finally get a reprieve because Dillon’s voice instantly fills my head.

  “Amy and I are getting a limo. You want in?”

  “Nah man, it’s all good. I’m gonna pick Isabelle up and head over in my car.”

  He laughs and I resist the urge to hit him. “I’m giving you the chance to get in on impressing the hell out of your girl with a limo ride, one of the most romantic things around, and you’re turning me down for a ride in your beater?”

  My car is not a beater. It’s old, sure, but it’s most definitely not a beater. Mom left it behind when she bailed and after a few years of working on it after practice in junior high, I finally got her running. It’s a second generation Dodge Charger, from ’68. It was red when mom owned it, but I got it detailed and now she’s black, inside and out.

  “You don’t get it. If it’s too much, it’s gonna screw with her and I don’t want that.”

  “Screw with her how?”

  “Sometimes things are too much for her to handle and she sort of breaks down. If there’s too much happening at once or too many people, it overwhelms her. I want this night to be perfect, so we’re just gonna go in my car. She’s comfortable there.”

  “Your loss.”

  “Honestly, it’s my gain. I get my girl to myself, away from you and the girlfriend from hell.”

  “Ames isn’t that bad. She’s cool now.”

  “Not with me, and not with Isabelle either.”

  “Whatever. If you change your mind, let me know. It’s cool with Amy if Isabelle comes along and I swear she won’t screw with her.”

  There was a time when saying something like that would have made me laugh, but now I get the feeling he means every word of it. I hate to admit it, but ever since he said sorry to Isabelle, he’s been a totally different guy. He’s proving me wrong and I know him better than anyone.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Okay man; don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  He splits off and instead of following him in; I veer off to where I threw my duffel before heading out onto the field for practice. I know it’s gross and I should stay behind and shower, but with as much as she’s been on my mind for the last three hours, I know I won’t be able to completely settle until I see her again.

  Until I make her tell me just what the hell she’s hiding from me.

  Belle

  When I got here, I expected to he
ar more of the same stuff I’ve heard since I got the diagnosis years ago, but instead, I’m hearing things I never dreamed possible.

  There’s actually a name for what I’m going through and even more than that, it’s treatable.

  “So you don’t think it’s a social anxiety anymore?”

  “As I explained to your mother the last time you were here, I believe that it is social anxiety, but what I didn’t speak to you about then, is that I also believe you suffer from something else. I’m actually surprised that it wasn’t diagnosed in you sooner.”

  Dr. Stevens hasn’t always been my doctor. In fact, for the first ten years after I was diagnosed, he wasn’t even in my life at all. So what he’s saying about this being caught sooner makes sense. The reason Mom changed to begin with was because she didn’t think she was getting the answers she needed from my old doctor. Turns out, she was right.

  “So you think I have Selective Mutism and Social Anxiety?”

  “Yes I do. You are unable to speak aloud in the academic setting because of the mutism, but you are able to write and even text with certain people because in that regard you are comfortable enough to do so. That is a step in the right direction. What’s important to remember is, this is treatable and it doesn’t always have to be with medications.”

  That was a big thing with my mom the last time. She didn’t want to feel like she was drugging me to solve my issues, so when she was told that I should be put on anxiety meds; she ran from the office and never looked back.

  If there’s a way to treat this like he’s saying and it doesn’t have to be just medication then I’m even more determined to do it.

  “Is it just the speech that it affects?”