Chapter 10
The Game of Life
Josh's eyes were the first thing I noticed as I walked through the door. They were locked right onto me, like he'd been waiting for me to walk through them. I kept my face blank as I watched his twist into a mean sneer. He was sitting on his desk talking to Randy, who also turned to look at me. Randy gave me a brief look and then turned away to stare at the front of the class. I ignored him, and with memories of a happier time playing in my head, I thought again that maybe I'd try to speak to Josh civilly.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second before making the attempt. His entire body stiffened as I approached him, and I watched his sneer twist into anger. He obviously did not want me close to him and probably, really did not want me talking to him. I slowly let out my deep breath and stopped at the edge of his desk. Randy twisted from the seat in front of Josh to watch, his eyes nervous.
The teacher, Mr. Thomson, was staring out the window, waiting for the bell to ring and the rest of the students to filter into class, completely oblivious to the drama and tension building up inside the room. The other students were not. I felt eyes turning to me and heard chairs squeaking as bodies shifted in them, anxious for a fight.
I wasn't going to give them one. That wasn't my desire anymore. Slowly I began, cautious of Josh's stormy face and excitable temper. "I don't want to start something with you, Josh, I just want to talk. "
Josh's eyes narrowed. "I have nothing to say to you. "
I sighed. "Come on, stop this already. You made me look stupid, alright. You got me fucked up and almost kicked out of here. " I lifted my shoulders and hands in an exasperated expression. "Isn't that enough?"
He stood by his desk and I felt the tension in the room triple. He was shorter than me, by a lot, but his confidence that he could kick my ass was evident in every move he made. His lips twisted into a small grin. "I don't know what you're talking about, Luc. " He eyed me up and down contemptuously. "You made your own bad choices. . . like always. "
I closed my eyes at the clear insinuation of that night. "Josh, we used to be friends. Come on, man. . . "
I opened my eyes as fingertips pushed me back. Josh's face looked even stormier. "I used to be a lot of things, Luc. " His voice rose and he took a step towards me, until we were toe to toe. "A brother. . . a best friend. " His finger jabbed me harshly in the chest and his voice went even higher. "You took all of that away from me! You! So don't give me the 'come on' crap!"
At this point, Mr. Thomson roused from his near trance, finally noticing that a storm was brewing in his room. He stood up and quickly raced over to Josh and me. I was so twisted with emotion over Josh's words that I hadn't backed away from him and Mr. Thomson had to use his arms to literally wedge us apart. We both looked over to his annoyed face when he spoke. "Enough! Break it off or you'll both get detention!" He pushed me away from where I was still standing in a dazed funk. "Sit down, Lucas!" He turned me and shoved me towards my desk. Stumbling a bit, I finally started moving on my own. I heard him turn around and bark at Josh, "You too!"
The bell rang, right as I sat down, and with a quick glance at a glaring Josh, I turned my attention back to Mr. Thomson, his eyes narrowed and flicking between the two of us. "There will be no fighting in my classroom! Understand!"
I reluctantly nodded and looked over at Josh who was doing the same. The tension in the air started to dissolve and a few students around me let out held breaths. A few snickered and a couple started placing odds on an after school knockout. From what I could make out, the odds were not in my favor. I clenched my jaw and tried to let my body relax. I don't know why I'd even tried that. There was no reasoning with Josh, not with how much he hated me.
Closing my eyes, I listened to Mr. Thomson start class and focused only on relaxing and breathing. I'd tried. I'd tried to let go of my own anger and salvage some of Josh and I's friendship. But I'd failed. I'd failed, and now I had to let him go. I wouldn't try talking to him again. I'd just have to ignore any more attempts he made to engage me. In fact, I'd just ignore any detrimental thing that he did to me. Even if he did somehow manage to kick my ass, all he would get from me was silent acceptance.
Because, while I may not agree with Josh's methods, I did sort of understand his anger; I'd be angry too, if I thought Josh had gotten drunk and killed them all. That would tear me inside, and I'd probably never forgive him either. And while I don't think I'd ever go to Josh's extremes. . . I hated myself enough that I could sympathize with Josh wanting to destroy me.
The rest of class went by with the traditional stares and whispers. For the first half of class, there were some odd tension-filled glances among the students in the space between Josh and me. They seemed to believe that we were going to launch at each other right in the middle of Mr. Thomson's speech on the mysteries of black holes. I kept my head straight and focused on listening to the teacher and eventually people started to relax, realizing nothing was going to happen.
I tried to focus on the teacher, but all I heard in my ears was Josh's searing words, 'You took all of that away from me! You!' I knew he was right. I knew that no matter if I was drunk or not, he was right. I was the one driving that night. I had done it. . . me, and Darren was gone because of it. Josh would never see past that and whatever semblance of friendship we had, was gone. I sighed as I thought of how disappointed Darren would be about that. I'm sure he'd prefer it if Josh and I had bonded even tighter over his death, leaning on each other for support and comfort. But this was no Disney movie, and what Josh wanted from me wasn't comfort - he wanted vengeance.
It saddened me to let that friendship go, he really was all I had left of Darren, but I couldn't hold onto someone who didn't want me, someone who actively hated me. My letting him go, would be the best solution for both of us. It would be hard to let his anger and torments slide away from me without reacting, but even with all he'd done so far, I hadn't hit him yet, and really, I think him drugging me was the worst he could do. I'd just have to be more careful with my stuff around him. . . or his helpers.
With a nasty glare at me after class, Josh was forcefully dragged out of the room by Randy, who looked at me with an odd, almost apologetic face. I had no idea why. Surely he'd been more than happy to carry out Josh's orders and spike my water. It's not like he'd been warm towards me at all this year.
By the time I shuffled out the door, both of them were gone and I breathed in deeply, letting the crispness in the air clear my thoughts. I walked with my head down and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other; that was enough to concentrate on for now. I heard a vague cacophony of whispers as I walked along and felt more than a few eyes, but I did my best to not worry about them. One more class and I'd be able to see Sawyer again and then this feeling of discord would lift from me.
I walked into art class and immediately smiled as Mrs. Solheim turned at my entrance and exclaimed, "Welcome back, Tom!" I shook my head and made my way to my seat, not feeling the need to correct her. I grinned as I thought that maybe I'd just change my name and be this elusive 'Tom' from now on. A small chuckle escaped me when I realized how my name would fit in so nicely with Sawyer's. We were connected on so many surprising levels.
A couple of intensely working students looked up at me upon hearing my laughter. They blinked and seemed surprised to see my seat occupied, and then went back to whatever they were working on. I smiled softly and let the sounds of busy people relax my mood. Light scratches on paper, the faint smell of oil paints and the gentle murmurings of Mrs. Solheim as she walked throughout the room, checking the student's progress, eased the tension of the last class away from me. I took a deep breath and prepared to work on my latest version of my saving grace, Sawyer.
Mrs. Solheim never commented on the fact that all of my subjects, in whatever medium she was teaching us, were all a dark haired girl with pale gray eyes. I wasn't even sure she had made the connection, as she was
more interested in nurturing our techniques than what we chose to paint. Art was the one class that I hadn't had any real homework in for Sawyer to collect - which was a good thing, since I'd have been really embarrassed handing Sawyer pieces of her own image to turn in for me, and nothing else moved me enough to paint it. The teacher had only told Sawyer that I could work on one project while I was gone, and hand it in when I got back.
I dug through my backpack until I found the charcoal sketched version of her that I had created during my hiatus. I unfolded the paper and stretched it out on my easel to make some finishing touches before I turned it in. It was my favorite piece of her, maybe because of the style, or maybe because I'd had so much time to work on it. During my more lucid moments, I'd spent hours going over the tiny details of her face, details I loved: the delicate bridge of her nose, the tiny freckle right beside her left eye, the one dimple in her cheek that she'd only get when she was giving me a wry half-smile, the look in her eye when I knew she was worrying about me, the way her upper lip formed the perfect, double arch of a heart. . .
A face leaning down next to me startled me from my work and I glanced over at the teacher leaning in, inspecting my drawing. "Is this what you did while you were gone, Tom?"
"Yes. . . and it's Lucas, Mrs. Solheim. " I really shouldn't let her call me the wrong name forever, as nice as the alter-ego was.
She glanced at me and frowned a bit as she looked over my features. "Oh, right, of course. " She looked over my drawing again and sighed, a smile coming to her lips. "It's a beautiful piece, Lucas. Your strokes are delicate and intricate, quite an accomplishment with charcoal. You really are quite talented. " She straightened and patted my shoulder. "I can see you put a lot of work into this. It's very good. Nice job, Tom. . . Lucas. "
I grinned ear to ear as she walked away, happy that my picture had pleased her. I stared at Sawyer's face for long moments, almost sorry to let go of it. Oh well, I'd get it back soon and I did need the grade. I sighed and wrote my name on the back, mentally preparing myself to let yet another thing I cared about go.
I exhaled a happy sigh when school finally let out for the day. I'd done it. I'd survived what was essentially another first day of school. It had been emotional and embarrassing, frustrating and definitely difficult, but now it was over and none of that mattered. Now I got to see Sawyer, and that was enough to put a spring in my step as I exited the classroom.
I stumbled on that step as I saw Sawyer in what looked like a heated conversation outside of the choir room. She appeared to be having intense words with. . . Brittany. I hastily made my way across the space between the two buildings, hoping I could stop whatever they were arguing about.
Brittany was surrounded by her legion of followers, most girls I'd known for years and hung out with on several occasions. They noticed me coming and patted Brittany on the shoulder. She broke off on her comment to Sawyer and looked up at me, her brown eyes narrowing. Her shoulders straightened and she swept her almost-blonde hair back over her shoulder. Her face twisted into a cruel sneer and I wondered how I'd ever found her attractive.
She took a step toward me, casually shoving Sawyer's shoulder back with her other. Sawyer's eyes flicked to mine and her jaw clenched, her fists in tight balls. She looked like she wanted to slug Brittany, although her eyes looked like she wanted to start sobbing. My heart seized at the hurt I saw in her face and I hoped whatever had started this. . . hadn't been because of me. She suffered enough because of me.
Brittany took a step up to me, her sneer turning to a knowing smirk. "Back for more, Lucas? I've already told you 'no' a dozen times. You really need to get over me. " Her voice dropped seductively and I got the feeling that that really wasn't what she was saying at all. I got the feeling that if I secretly told her to meet me in my bedroom tonight. . . she would.
My face darkening, I took a step over to Sawyer and pulled her into me. Sawyer tried to step back, but I held her tight. "Are you okay," I whispered as I looked down at her, momentarily ignoring Brittany and her laughing group of friends. Sawyer bit her lip and nodded that she was, but her eyes watered drastically.
A hand reached out and pushed my shoulder. My head snapped back to Brittany, right as she stepped up to me, practically in my face. Brittany didn't like being ignored. "I was talking to you druggy. . . or are you just too high to notice?"
I resisted the urge to smack the smug look from her face. Knowing Brittany, she'd probably like that. "What did you say to her?" I said through clenched teeth, trying desperately to hold in my ever shifting emotions.
"Your white trash?" She shrugged, like she really couldn't care less about the argument they'd been having. "We were just going over your extracurricular activities. " She glanced at Sawyer and her grin turned outrageously cocky. She was loving this.
I closed my eyes, wanting to walk away, wanting to pull Sawyer out of this school and away from these people. "What are you talking about?" I muttered instead.
She leaned in close to me, her lips practically on my ear. I cringed away from her unintentionally when she spoke in a husky voice. "I only apologized that her boyfriend was a no good man whore. " Her eyes flicked down my body seductively and contemptuously. "But what can you expect from a drugged out alcoholic?"
Sawyer beside me went bright red and her mouth opened in clear protest. "He is not a-"
Only thinking about getting away from Brittany, and her odd mixed signals, I cut Sawyer off. . . and said something really, really stupid. "I'm not her boyfriend, Brittany. Leave her alone. "
With those words, I grabbed a suddenly pale looking Sawyer's hand and dragged her away from the group. From behind me, I heard Brittany loudly exclaim, "Oh god, he's fucking her but he doesn't even want her!" Then even louder I heard her yell, "Sorry, white trash! I guess I had nothing to apologize for!"
I exhaled slowly and clenched Sawyer's hand in mine. I cursed under my breath at saying something so stupid to Brittany. True, there was nothing false about the statement, but, of all the things Brittany had said, that was the worst one for me to object to. By picking that statement to deny, I'd just given Brittany an arsenal of torture to spout at Sawyer. In one sentence, I'd pretty much confirmed everything else she'd said about me and downplayed the importance of Sawyer in my life.
God, I'm an idiot.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, as Sawyer hurried beside me to keep up with my fast pace. I glanced over at her and saw that her eyes weren't as watery, but still seemed sad. The rest of her face had returned to her normal composure and I was sure that no one but me would even notice the faint unhappiness in her eyes. I slowed my pace and she looked over at me. "Sawyer. . . I'm sorry about what I-"
She shook her head and cut me off. "You didn't say anything that isn't true. "
I stopped walking and she stopped with me, searching my eyes, like she was looking for some clue about how I really felt about her. I wished I could explain it, wished I could tell her that she was the one that made me light up in a way that made my mom smile, that she was the one that I painted in every art class, that she was home to me. I couldn't say any of that though, not without confusing her even more.
"I shouldn't have said it like that. . . especially to someone like Brittany. It came off like I don't care about you at all and that's not true. " I sighed heavily and shook my head. "I feel like I just made things worse for you. "
Her hand came up to brush my cheek and she swallowed. "It's fine, Lucas. They just. . . " She sighed and looked away, dropping her hand.
"They what, Sawyer?"
She turned back and her eyes stared at my shoes. "She's teased me with the whole 'white trash' thing since the first day, when I ran into her in the parking lot. " She sighed and looked up to my eyes. "I was hiding out in the bathroom that day, because she hounded me all the way to the building about my hand-me-down clothes and cheap-ass book bag. She thought it was hilarious that I didn't have a jacket when it was pouring and.
. . " she looked out over the campus to where we'd left Brittany and her wannabes, "when she saw me wearing your jacket later that day. . . she just. . . picked up her teasing a touch more. "
I opened my mouth, surprised at her revelation and looked back with Sawyer. I had the sudden desire to run back there and tell that bitch that I never cared about her and never would, so she was the one that should just get over it. . . whatever the hell it was to her. Sawyer's words brought me back to her though.
"It doesn't matter, Luc. It may bother me sometimes, the teasing and putdowns, but," she sniffed and straightened her shoulders, "I know my family struggles with money and stuff. They do the best they can for me. " She shook her head, and a wisdom seldom seen in a person her age crept into her voice. "I know what's important. . . and what's not, and Brittany and her cronies. . . aren't. " Her face hardened into that serious mask that she could sometimes slip into. "I won't let someone like that destroy my life. " She glanced around the school grounds with only her eyes. "All of this. . . it's only temporary, Luc. " She looked at me pointedly. "Remember that. "
I nodded and then shook my head at her, disbelieving. Most kids, even me sometimes, couldn't get past how high school could seem like the be-all and end-all of our young existence. "How old are you?" I muttered.
She giggled, like the schoolgirl she really was, and started walking towards the main building again. "I'm seventeen, Lucas. . . eighteen in January," she added with a grin.
I threw an arm around her shoulders as I matched her pace. "Wow, I'm hangin' with an older woman. " I grinned down at her. "I think I got some of those cool points back. "
She laughed genuinely and slung an arm around my waist. I let the tension of our conversation, and the faceoff with Brittany, die as her comfort seeped into me. She sighed happily and looked up at me. "Hey, good job by the way. "
Confused, I scrunched my brow and looked down at her. "Huh?"
She smiled as we approached the door to the main building, where the Safe and Sound club met. I pulled open the door for us while she gingerly answered. "Well, you're not bruised or bleeding, so I'm taking it that you did what I asked and left Josh alone. " Her face beamed up at me as she stepped through the door.
I frowned as I followed her. "Maybe I just won the fight. " I raised an eyebrow at her and she giggled again.
"Well, you weren't carted off the campus, so I'm assuming that you didn't haul off and hit him. "
I laughed and then shrugged. "I said I'd stay away. . . I did. " I didn't mention that I'd tried to have an actual conversation with him. It hadn't gone well anyway, so, not much to tell.
She snuggled back into my side as we walked through the empty halls. "I'm glad, Luc. " She rested her head against me and I smiled. "I don't want to see you in anymore trouble. "
I rested my cheek on her head. "Me either," I muttered.
We came to the classroom door and I pulled it open, preparing to go in with her. She put a hand on my chest and looked at me quizzically. "Don't you have to get to your. . . thing?"
Confused, I was about to ask her what she was talking about when it suddenly hit me. Oh, damn it. . . the counselor. With everything that had happened today, I'd completely forgotten about that hell waiting for me. I frowned as I realized that we'd be parting ways now.
She brought her hand up to my cheek, stroking it with the back of her knuckle. "Hey, smile. It won't be so bad. " She dropped her hand and shrugged. "Maybe you'll even like it?"
I gave her a 'yeah right' face and sighed, staring longingly at the purity club door. The thought that I was longing to be at a purity club meeting made me chuckle softly, and with a shake of my head, I told her goodbye and gave her a swift hug before she entered the classroom without me. Staring at the closed door, I waited for ten long seconds before turning around and heading for the office. . . where my new personal hell was waiting for me.
I knocked softly on the closed, opaque door with the word "counselor" in rub-on, black letters across it. This was technically the guidance counselor's office, where she set up shop to help seniors apply to colleges, juniors put together a senior year with the most free periods, and freshman and sophomores find a way to weasel out of gym and typing. The 'grief' counselor that they'd brought in this year full time, courtesy of me, was sharing the office with her. I suppose this arrangement was quite handy for the custodians, since technically, they didn't have to resign the door.
I waited a couple seconds, hoping she hadn't heard me and I could leave, knowing that I'd tried. No such luck. Just as I was turning to dash away, to wait in the hallway for Sawyer, a soft voice answered me.
"Come on in, Lucas. "
I cringed; both that she'd heard me, and that she knew it was me out here. With a heavy sigh, I opened the door and stepped inside. I'm sure it was my imagination, but the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees once I passed through the doorframe. I closed the door behind me and felt the echo vibrate morosely throughout the room. Rolling my eyes at my own dramatics, I took a step into the room and looked around at my "home away from home" for the next six weeks.
I'd been to the counselor's office a few times, but that was when the guidance counselor had it to herself. I internally smiled at the school's attempt to casually split a room into two. Their solution to the problem was an obtrusive line of two six foot tall lateral file cabinets in a straight line down the center of the room. The drawers faced out into the guidance counselor's "area", with her desk shoved haphazardly in the corner. She had a chair for visitors and a sturdy case full of thick, hardbound books, and that was about it. I bet she loved having her personal work space halved like that.
The backside of the file cabinets was equally as cramped, but an attempt was being made to create a soothing work space. The grief counselor's desk was specifically made for corners and sculpted nicely into the space it was given. Expecting a chaise lounge or couch in front of it, I was a little surprised to see a standard office chair for the "client's" seat. The rest of the room was filled with an almost spa-like ambiance: candles, soothing pictures of waterfalls and rock gardens, light jazz playing softly. A Japanese-like accordion room separator was folded back in on itself against the file cabinet. I suppose when a "session" was taking place, she'd extend it, giving the poor, depressed soul some false illusion of privacy. Like there was any true privacy in this school, or this town for that matter.
"Come on in, Lucas. Have a seat. "
I took a final glance at the empty room, well, empty except for the counselor sitting at her desk, tucked in the oasis of her small office, and sighed. Irritated at having to do this, I grumpily walked over to her, tossing my backpack on the floor before unceremoniously dropping into the chair. She watched me harshly sit down and then a small smile lifted the corners of her lips. She reminded me of a leprechaun. Why? I don't know. She wasn't a tiny pixie wearing buckled shoes and a green top hat. No green on her at all, actually. It was probably the hair - bright red with springy curls and a splattering of matching freckles marking her nose and cheeks, all of it highlighting her incredibly blue eyes. If I hadn't heard her speak already, I'd expect an Irish brogue to pour from her mouth.
I adjusted in my seat uncomfortably as we both stared at each other silently. She sat back in her chair, absentmindedly flipping a pencil in her hands. She had strong looking hands. They matched her sturdy frame and solid looking bone structure. A delicate and tiny flower she was not. I could easily imagine her grabbing a plow and tilling one of those Irish hillsides.
Getting uneasy with the silence enfolding us, I coughed and looked around her office again. She finally spoke as she watched me assess my environment.
"Looking for an escape, Lucas?"
I shifted my attention back to her, noticing how often she'd already used my name, and wondering if that was some "counselor" technique to make us seem like we were old friends already. It might work better if I knew her name too. I shook my head, but didn't
answer her verbally.
She smiled warmly and extended her hand. Almost reading my thoughts, she said, "My name is Mrs. Ryans, but you can call me Beth. "
Feeling strange, I grabbed her hand. Her grasp was as firm as I'd suspected it to be. I awkwardly shook it for a moment and gratefully pulled my hand back to my lap when she let go. She tilted her head as she assessed me and I couldn't help but wonder what psychosis she'd already assigned to me. "Do you know why you're here, Lucas?"
I sighed and looked at the ceiling, hating this already. "Because I was fuc. . . " I looked back down at the teacher-like person before me and shifted my coarse language, ". . . impaired. . . on school grounds. "
Her lips twisted into a wry grin and I was pretty sure she knew exactly what I'd been going to say. "That's what you did to get here. But why are you here, Lucas?"
I scrunched my brow, already lost. Why did therapist people feel the need to talk in circles? Couldn't she just tell me I was a messed up waste of space and let me go? "I don't understand. . . aren't they the same?"
She smiled and softly shook her head. "No, not even remotely. "
I scowled, still confused and shook my head too. "Well, you're the one with the diplomas. Aren't you supposed to tell me?"
She lifted a red eyebrow at me. "Do you want me to?"
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Are you going to do the 'answer every question with a question' thing?"
"Do you want me to do that, Lucas?" When I scowled again, she laughed a little and added, "That was a joke. "
Surprise washed through me that she'd both laughed and teased me. I don't know why. I guess I just expected all sternness and severity from a counselor. I found myself relaxing just a little bit and felt a small smile lighten my features.
Her face brightened considerably. "Ah, you do know how to smile. I was beginning to wonder. " I looked down and shrugged my shoulders, trying to not be amused by her. Softly she added, "You seemed angry when you sat down. Why?"
I looked back up at her, not sure why she couldn't guess that. I'd been caught doing something inappropriate, that wasn't even my fault, and this was my punishment. Why would I be happy about any of that? A shot of true anger did sear through me then, as I remembered all that had transpired to get me here, in this office, talking to someone I didn't want to talk to. I didn't want to talk to anyone, anyone alive anyway. I scowled as I answered her. "I'm only here because the Safe and Sound club kicked me out, and I want back in. It makes me angry that I have to do this. "
"Why?" She cocked her head at me, looking like she was truly fascinated by my answer. I wondered if that was another technique - feigned interest, she was probably prepping a grocery list in her head. That thought incensed my already revved up temper. I really did not want to be here.
"Because!" She only stared at my response and I floundered for a more substantive answer. "I mean, god, the club's entire frickin' motto is 'because we care about you'. " I flung my arms out, as I started to get myself really ticked off. "It's supposed to be a club for troubled teens, who want to turn their life around. . . and they kicked me out!" Tears surprisingly came to my eyes as I truly for the first time thought about this. "Me, the one kid in this school that people look at like. . . like I'm a washed up, messed up, worthless piece of shit! The one most in need of help, the most messed up one here. . . and they won't help me!" I brought my hands to my chest as I felt actual tears drop to my cheeks. "I want in. . . and they won't take me. What does that say?" I threw my hands out again, embarrassed at my words and my tears, but also feeling relieved for getting that unknown hurt off my chest.
I expected her to tell me the school was right. I expected her to tell me I didn't belong in that club. I expected her to berate me for my language. I expected her to recommend several different twelve step programs. What I never expected. . . was for her to say this:
"Well, Lucas. . . it kind of sounds hypocritical to me. "
A rebuttal had been on my lips and it immediately fell off my tongue as my mouth dropped open. I realized then, that the tilt of her head was her truly listening to me, that that glint in her eye was her showing true concern for my well being. I stared at her, suddenly not seeing someone sent by fate to torture me even farther for my mistakes. For the first time ever. . . I saw a living human being that I could potentially talk to. I mean, really talk to. It terrified me. I swallowed and pushed the icy terror back. What I said or didn't say, was still my choice.
Letting my momentary panic subside, I quietly answered, "Yeah. . . me too. "
We talked about more mundane things for the rest of my time there - my relationship with my mom, my non-existent relationship with my father, what I liked to do, what I used to like to do, my plan for next year. She didn't ask me about the crash. She didn't ask me about the gossip that swirled around me. She didn't ask about my relationship with Sawyer, or any other girl for that matter. She didn't even ask me about the incident that got me in her office in the first place. After my emotional outburst, her questions were tame and easy to answer. As I stood to leave, I was a little surprised by the entire thing and relieved that I'd gotten through it, without making too big a jackass out of myself.
Only five weeks and four more days to go. Great.
I waited in the hallway outside of Safe and Sound club for Sawyer, my session not lasting as long as her meeting. I was deep in thought over my hour with Mrs. Ryans. . . Beth, when the door opened and kids started pouring out. I barely noticed the whispers and stares as I sat on the floor and waited for Sawyer to see me. Eventually all the kids left, and I could see Sawyer still in the classroom talking to Ms. Reynolds. She had her head down and was listening to Ms. Reynolds talk with a solemn expression on her face.
Ms. Reynolds reached down for her hand, but then surprisingly took her wrist instead. Sawyer's head snapped up to look at her and she pulled back reflexively, an almost alarmed look on her face. I stood up, wondering if Sawyer was about to get into another fight, but this time with a teacher, a generally nice teacher. Sawyer started shaking her head at Ms. Reynolds, her face looking more and more frightened every second.
As I stepped through the door, Ms. Reynolds turned to look at me and dropped Sawyer's arm. Sawyer looked back at me and smiled genuinely, although her face was almost sickly white. Scrunching my brows, I walked up to her side.
"Everything. . . okay here?" I asked, feeling odd at having to almost confront a teacher.
Ms. Reynolds gave me her warm, sympathetic teacher face. "Of course, Lucas. " Her eyes flicked over to Sawyer's then back to mine. "Sawyer and I were just having. . . a conversation. " Before I could answer, her eyes brightened. "How was your session? I hear Mrs. Ryans is great, was she? Did everything go okay?"
Her questions came out in rapid succession and I had to focus on them so hard, that I momentarily forgot about the incident I'd walked in on. "Uh. . . it was. . . fine, I guess. "
She put a hand on my shoulder. "Great! I'm so glad, Lucas. " She patted my shoulder before nodding at Sawyer and then turning to leave the room.
I turned back to a still pale Sawyer. "Well, that was weird. " Sawyer's face was still a ghostly white shade as her eyes locked on the door Ms. Reynolds had just exited from. "Hey, you okay?"
She snapped out of her daze and lifted her eyes to mine. Some color returned to her as she flicked between my eyes. She gave me that wry smile I loved on her, the one that showed my favorite dimple. "Isn't that my line?"
I laughed and slung my arm around her shoulders. "Apparently, not today. "
She leaned into my body as we started walking from the room. "How did your meeting go?" she asked quietly.
Keeping my head straight, I flatly said, "It was fine. "
She pulled back from me, slightly frowning. "Luc. . . "
I sighed and looked down at my feet shuffling along, crossing over the multiple cracks in the hallway tile. "Really, it was fine. Not great, not horrible. . . " I looked
up at her and shrugged, ". . . just. . . fine. "
She twisted her lips at me and then sunk back down against my body. "Okay. . . well, I'm glad it wasn't horrible. "
I leaned my head against hers and sighed. "Yeah, me too," I muttered into her black, silky hair. A faint scent of the lemon that filled her car hit my nose and I smiled - content, once again.
Sawyer was quiet on the ride home and I didn't intrude on whatever she was thinking about. Myself, I chose to stare out the window and reflect on my own day as well. Besides the unfortunate teasing by Will in English, really, the encounter with Josh was the worst part of my day. Even my outburst with the counselor hadn't trumped that moment. I sighed and thought again about Darren being disappointed in me, in the fact that I couldn't save that friendship with his brother. Maybe I'd dream about him tonight and we could talk about it?
A hand across my leg snapped me out of my weird thought, and I looked over at Sawyer studying me. I blinked and looked around at my driveway. Apparently, we were here. I blushed and looked down at her hand on my thigh, wondering how long I'd been spacing out in her car.
Her fingers touched my cheek and I looked at her. "You okay?" she asked softly.
I grinned and shook my head at her. "You just had to get one in today, didn't you?"
She grinned and then giggled a little. She let just one knuckle stroke my face before pulling her hand away. I cocked my head at her and watched her slightly almond shaped eyes watch me, neither one of us feeling the need to break the contact. I smiled and then nodded my head at the door. "I don't suppose your parents would let you come in for a little bit?"
She twisted her lips before sighing softly. "No. . . I asked, but, they know you're back in school, and don't think I need. . . to be here. " She shrugged unhappily and sighed again. I nodded and looked down, hating that her parents felt so strongly about me, when they'd never even met me.
Her fingers came back to my cheek and I looked up at her again. "It's not you, Lucas. " She frowned slightly. "Well, it's mostly not you. Mostly it's me. . . okay?"
I smiled again and leaned into her fingers, nodding, but not understanding. I still didn't know what she'd done to so distraught her parents. She just didn't seem that outrageous to me. She seemed well adjusted and responsible and wise beyond her years. A part of me wished her parents would just get over whatever had happened with that boy and start trusting her again. I briefly wondered if they disliked me, simply because I was also a boy. Maybe it had nothing to do with my reputation after all, although, I doubt that helped.
Her fingers still on my cheek, I reached behind her neck and pulled her forehead to mine. Sighing, I rested our heads together for a second before preparing to leave her. At least it was only a few hours today and not a full day. That thought encouraged me and I was smiling as I pulled away from her and opened the door. She had a small, thoughtful grin on her face while she watched me leave. I waved at the door and then shut it and stood there, while she pulled away.
Feeling that the day had ended on an upbeat note, I entered my house for a long night of homework, bad TV and Hot Pockets.
Mom was late at the diner and she was still gone when I dragged my tired body to bed. I changed into my pajamas, laid my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes, all with the thought of 'please let me see my friends' repeating over and over in my head.
Within moments my eyes felt heavy and sleep lulled me under. I floated in that realm of unconsciousness for what seemed like an eternity - just blackness, darkness, nothingness. . . peace. Then I was standing in my living room, fully dressed and staring out the sunny window. A hand on my shoulder startled me and I slowly turned, a grin spreading across my face as I did so. "Lil?"
Auburn hair and gold eyes met my vision and I smiled wider. "Hey, Sammy. "
She laughed and engulfed me in a warm hug. "Oh, Luc, it's so good to see you. " She pulled back and looked over my face. "Our last visit wasn't nearly long enough. " I nodded and smiled as I held her close to me. Our last visit had been awhile ago, back when I'd first started my hiatus from school; she'd come in with Lil, and the three of us had met up only briefly before the dream had fallen away from me. That had been ages ago, or so it seemed now that we were alone together. She laughed in my arms and hugged me tight again before letting go. "Darren would kick your ass if he saw us embracing like this," she muttered, as she playfully pushed my shoulder back.
I grinned at her. "Yeah, Lil too. " I stepped back and admired my beautiful friend, practically my sister. "You and I aren't usually alone. " I frowned as I considered that. "In fact, we've never been alone. . . not in my dreams. . . " I sighed as her expression softened. "God, are you here to tell me I'm nuts too? To tell me to back off from Lillian and live my life? Blah, blah, blah. . . "
She grinned wider as I crossed my arms over my chest. She shook out her red hair while she chuckled. "No, Luc. You've had a hard day. I'm not going to berate you for wanting to see a friendly face. "Her expression turned serious before shifting to a playful scowl. "I'm here. . . to kick your ass. "
My eyebrow lifted at that and she broke into a grin, stepping aside so that I could see past her, to the board game set up on the middle of the living room floor, highlighted in a bright patch of sunlight. I looked back over to her and chuckled. Glancing at the game again, my chuckle turned into a hearty laugh. "You're going to beat me. . . at the game of Life? Seriously?"
She laughed too and stepped up to my side, grabbing my hand and leading me to a side of the board. "It seemed fitting," she said over her shoulder.
I gave her a wry smile. "Nice. "
She sat down cross legged on one side of the board while I took the other. I momentarily glanced at the other two empty sides. She glanced with me and smiled. I gazed at her eyes, glowing warmly in the sunshine and let myself feel the peace of her remembered company. Sammy and I had always gotten along, but truly, as much as I enjoyed being with her right now, I wanted to see everyone.
I indicated the free space around the board. "We need more players. Do you mind?" She shook her head, still smiling warmly and I concentrated with everything I had at the spot on the floor to the right of Sammy. Hazily at first, and then more solidly, Darren finally appeared and she smiled over at him. He glanced at us and then down at the board set between us. "Sweet!" He looked at both Sammy and I while he raised a finger in the air. "I'm the doctor!"
Sammy rolled her eyes, but laughed. "You can't call the occupations nimrod. "
Darren gave her a level look. "And yet, I just did. " She started to protest, but he leaned in and kissed her, cutting off her objection, just like he usually did. "Hey, sexy. "
I grinned at the sight of them making out, happy that Darren wasn't going to bug me about bringing them here, that he was just going to visit with me. Twisting my head, I concentrated on the spot beside me. Nothing happened at first and I started to worry that nothing would. And then, so suddenly that it surprised me, Lil was sitting beside me, laughing at Darren and Sammy who were playfully smacking each other.
"Hey, beautiful," I whispered, as I leaned over to kiss her. She grinned breathtakingly and met my lips halfway. I paused after a few light touches to her soft, fragrant skin. "Are we fine?" I whispered, knowing how ridiculous that sounded, but needing her assurance anyway. Our last meeting had been. . . intense. Her hand came up to my cheek and she bit her lip while she searched my face. "Luc. . . I. . . "
Suddenly a couch pillow smacked me on the side of the head. Irritated, I turned to glare at a laughing Darren. He held his hands out. "What?" He pointed at me. "You had a rough day and brought us here for some fun. . . right?" He cocked his head to the side and twisted his lips into a frown. "Not some emotional outpouring of everything that's going on, everything we never got to say to each other," his hands mimed lips talking, "yada, yada, yada. . . "
I laughed and felt myself relaxing, and Lil beside me did as well. "Yeah, let's just play. " I decided then,
that any painful conversations I wanted to have with Lil, over our intimacies lately, and Darren, over his brother, could wait. Tonight, I just wanted to have fun with my friends again.
Playing that dream game of Life with my deceased friends, brought a smile to my lips that lasted the entire time. I held Lil's hand as we teased each other over the careers we received - her, a well paid superstar, me, a struggling artist - and gave her a kiss when she got married. After seeing that, Darren commented that she was having an affair on her blue husband, which made us both giggle. For his part, Darren kept the mood in the room light, helping to give me a nice memory to take with me tomorrow, when I rejoined the harsh "real" world. I wished I could stay in this quiet room forever, playing board games with my friends - watching Lil gaze at me lovingly, watching Sammy laugh as she raked in the dough, and watching Darren complain about Sammy's "life".
"Seriously, another kid? Are you a part puppy or something?" he grumbled when she landed on yet another "baby" space.
She grinned and shrugged. "I guess I'm really fertile. Besides, I like kids. " She raised an eyebrow at him. "They help you win the game, you know. " She looked at his car piece, pointedly.
He scowled and pointed at her packed car on the game board. "For fuck's sake, Sammy. . . you've got five of the little bastards already. They don't even fit in the car. " He smirked at her. "Couldn't you turn down your deadbeat husband every once in awhile?" He motioned to the back of her car, where a lone blue person was surrounded by a sea of pink. "I mean, you put the poor, jobless jerk-off in the back seat. " He grinned wryly at her while Lil and I laughed. "How much love could there be?"
Sammy twisted her lips in an amused expression of annoyance. "It's better than your situation. " She pointed to Darren's car, where only his blue piece and a fallen over pink one resided. "And what exactly is your wife doing anyway, with her head buried in your lap like that?" I laughed as I looked at Darren's car; it really did look like that.
Darren chuckled at her and grinned seductively. He flicked a glance at me and I knew he was about to say something that was going to get him smacked. I grinned while he shrugged. When he did answer her, his voice was deeper and huskier. "That's just where I prefer my women. "
Sure enough, Sammy's hand flashed out and smacked him harshly across the chest. He grunted while she laughed at him, Lil and me joining in her merriment. "Oh, come on, Cherry Pie," he jokingly told her.
She gasped at his nickname. While he'd told me once that he called her that because of her reddish hair, she had always chosen to see the dirtier side of the pet name, and usually smacked him harshly whenever he said it. Although, with the glint in her eye whenever he did, I was pretty sure the nickname turned her on. I was also pretty sure the name was repeated in their bed with far less violent results.
With an impish grin, she reached behind her to a container of dip that we'd been snacking on with some chips I'd conjured up. Dipping in her finger, she withdrew a glob and then swiftly flicked it at Darren. It hit his shirt and he looked down at the mess, surprised. His eyes snapped up to where we were all giggling almost uncontrollably. His surprised face turned devilish. "Oh, it's on now!"
Darren grabbed her wrist and pulled her on top of him as he lay down beside the board. He flipped her on her back and proceeded to run his hands up and down her sides while holding her legs firmly entwined in his. She screamed and squirmed as he tickled her. In between her fits of laughter and tears, she begged Lil and me for help, but wiping tears from our own eyes, we shook our heads. Neither one of us were going to get mixed up in their flirting.
Lil and I glanced at each other when our friends shifted to wrestling. . . or foreplay. She smiled warmly at me, running a hand over my forehead and brushing aside some of my hair. She sighed and looked torn about something. I was about to ask her "what" when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine. Her hand snaked around behind my neck, pulling me close as our mouths moved together. My heart surged and I cupped her face with my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as the tips of my fingers twisted around her silky, pale hair.
Just as the kiss was deepening, as my head was tilting so I could feel more of her lips on mine, feel more of her tongue against mine, another pillow dinged me. Seriously annoyed now, I glared over at a laughing Darren. He held his hands up in surrender under the intensity of my sneer. "Hey. . . I know how you two are when you get going. . . " he pointed down at the board game between us, "can we finish the game before the nakedness starts?"
Lil, her face still cupped in my hands, laughed, embarrassed, and pulled back from my fingers. I smiled and laughed with her, matching her tone, and then brought her over to my lap so I could put my arms around her and feel the life and warmth of the woman I loved while we finished our game. She giggled and settled down, grabbing my free hand and interlacing our fingers while she rested back on my chest. I kissed her head, the smell of her favorite shampoo suddenly assaulting me, while the ends of her long strands tickled my arm. With a grin plastered on my face, I pulled her tight and leaned over to spin the dial - ready to finish my game of Life.
Collision Course Page 11
