Eclipsed: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 3)

by McKayla Box

  I hesitate for a moment.

  I want to find my mother first. I want to know what she looked like and how she smiled and what she wore. These are again things I've never known about her. It's like she didn't exist before I was born because she rarely talked about what it was like for her as a kid. In a way, it feels like I'm invading her privacy.

  So I pause for a moment, making sure I want to do this.

  But then I start turning the pages, looking for her. I doubt she'll be in any of the extracurricular stuff, so I head straight to the class photos. And I'm paging through those when I'm interrupted.

  “Hey,” a voice says above me.

  I jerk in the chair, surprised, and look up.

  “Sorry,” Ricky says, adjusting his cap. “Didn't mean to scare you.”

  Ricky. The kid who worked with Reese to upend my life. The kid who earned my trust and then destroyed everything.

  I haven't spoken to him either since the Winter Ball.

  And I have no plans to do so now.

  “Fuck off,” I say.

  But instead of fucking off, he sits down across from me. He adjusts the cap again and leans forward. “I need to talk to you.”

  Chapter 10

  “I don't care what you need to do,” I say and then lean forward. “Fuck. Off.”

  He holds his hands up like he just wants me to back off. “Can you just hear me out for a minute?”

  “No,” I snap. “I can't just hear you out. You lied to me and you were working with Reese to seriously ruin my life and to share something that wasn't yours to share. So I don't care what you want or what you need.”

  He looks away for a second, his mouth set in a firm line.

  I'm surprised by how angry I am to see him. I've seen him around school, but never within shouting distance, and it’s not like he’s sought me out.

  Seeing him sitting across the table and asking me for something infuriates me.

  His gaze shifts back to me. “I fucked up, okay?”

  “I don't care,” I tell him.

  “I fucked up,” he repeats. “I'm sorry. What I did was...the worst thing I've ever done in my life. And I'm sorry I did it.”

  “Good for you,” I tell him. “I don't care how sorry you are. I'll never forget what you did to me.”

  He sighs. “I know. I'm not asking you to forget, or to forgive me.”

  “Then what the fuck do you want?”

  He licks his lips, then shrugs. “I don't know. I guess that's what I wanted. To say I was sorry. I’ve been trying to work up the courage for weeks.” He hesitates. “I don't have the right to ask anything of you. But if it's any consolation, it didn't start out the way it ended.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” I ask.

  “It means when I first talked to you, the idea was to just write the article,” he says. “Like I told you. That's all it was. I swear.” He swallows. “Then Reese came to me.”

  I shake my head and look down at the table.

  “And you have to understand,” he says. “Or you don't, I guess. It doesn't matter. She's treated me like shit for, like, ten years, okay? And I've had a crush on her since I was a little kid. So all of a sudden she starts paying attention to me and I...I just stopped thinking.” He sighs. “She started being friendly to me, acting like she gave a shit about what I was working on. I mentioned that I was trying to get you to do a profile piece and she was super interested. Obviously.”

  I glare at him. “Obviously.”

  “And so she started pushing me,” he says. “To just keep following up with you. And then when you finally agreed to talk to me, she...wanted to know what you said.” His cheeks flush. “And I told her. And then a day later, she came back to me and told me that she'd found some other stuff that might be interesting. She…she gave me all the stuff about your mom.”

  I look down at the table.

  “I told her I wasn't going to run that,” he says. “And that even if I wanted to, it would never get by our advisor for the paper. But she didn't want it to go in the paper. She wanted to do something else with it. But she wanted my help with it. To write it. And if I'd help her, she'd go to the dance with me.”

  I look up. “Yeah, well, fuck you. She told me that part herself. You sold me out just so you could fuck her.”

  His cheeks go crimson. “Yeah, well, that didn't happen. But I won't lie. It was supposed to. And I know how awful that makes me. But it didn't happen.”

  “A shame,” I tell him, not feeling the least bit sorry for him.

  “After...everything happened,” he says. “After you left, I felt sick to my stomach. I realized what I'd done and I felt terrible. I went to leave and Reese stopped me. She told me we had a deal and she was gonna pay up.” He swallows. “But I told her the deal was off and I was going home. She got all shitty with me over it, then said she wasn't gonna do it anyway. I didn't care. I left. That was it.” He looks at me. “And I'm not telling you this so you'll forgive me or feel bad for me or think I'm a good guy or whatever. I swear I'm not. I just...I haven't stopped thinking about what happened and what I did, and I see you around school and…well, I haven't had the guts to come up to you and tell you I was sorry.” He adjusts his cap. “Until today. I saw Reese bothering you and then saw you head in here. So before I could think better of it, I just came in and decided to apologize. I thought at the very least I owed you that.”

  I don't say anything. I know there's nothing in it for him and he seems sincere, but I can't forget what he did, even if he is sorry he did it.

  “I just wanted you to know that,” he says quietly. “I expect you to keep hating me and I deserve that. But I just want you to know that I'm sorry, and if there was anything I can do to take it back or make up for it, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know there isn't, but I swear I would.”

  I'm about to tell him that if he's said everything he wants to say that he can get up and go now so I can be alone.

  But then I look at the pile of yearbooks in front of me.

  And I suddenly think about what he's really good at.

  “Do you mean it?” I ask.

  Ricky looks at me, unsure. “Do I mean what? I mean, yeah. I meant everything I just said. I'm so sorry. You don't even know.”

  “I don't care about that,” I tell him. “I meant if there was something you could do to make it up to me, would you?”

  He stares at me for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, totally. Well, wait.” He pauses and chews on his lip for a minute. “I mean, I'm not gonna get into some war with Reese, okay? I don't want any of that drama. I've already had enough.”

  “I'm not talking about anything with Reese,” I tell him.

  “Okay,” he says, still unsure. “But what can I do that will make it up to you?”

  I push one of the yearbooks toward him. “Let me explain.”

  Chapter 11

  I give Ricky a quick rundown on what I'm doing. At this point, I don't have anything to lose by telling him that I'm trying to find my mother in the yearbooks because he knows all there is to know about me. Or most everything. But I don't need a friend.

  I need someone who knows how to do research.

  And that's Ricky.

  “Do you know what year she graduated?” he asks, paging through the yearbook I pushed in his direction.

  “I'm guessing,” I tell him. “But I texted my grandmother to find out so we'll know.”

  “And why exactly do you wanna find her?”

  “It's not really her I want to find,” I say. “It's my father.”

  “And did he graduate in the same year?”

  “Literally no idea,” I tell him. “I don't even know his name.”

  He looks up from the yearbook. “Serious?”

  “Serious.”

  “Damn,” he says. “Okay. Sorry. I didn't realize that.” He glances down at the yearbook, then back to me. “And thanks for telling me. I won't tell anyone.”

  I shrug. “Doesn't matter
. Most of my friends already know I didn't know him.”

  “Still. I won't tell anyone. You have my word.” He pauses. “For whatever that's worth.”

  My phone buzzes and I look at the screen.

  It's my grandmother, and her response tells me I guessed right.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “She should be a junior in the one you're looking at. Senior in the one I have.”

  He nods and starts flipping through the pages.

  It takes me less than a minute to find my mother, and it's startling.

  Because it's like looking in a mirror. I look so much like her that we could be twins. Which is odd, because I don't ever recall thinking we looked alike before.

  “Found her,” I say.

  He looks up and I spin the yearbook around so he can see. He looks at the photo, then at me, then back at the photo. “Wow.”

  “Weird, huh?” I say.

  “You could be sisters,” he says. “Does she still look like this? Like you?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Turns out alcohol and chain-smoking really change the way you look, I guess.”

  He winces. “Ugh. Sorry.”

  I shrug and spin the book back around. “Can you find her in yours?”

  He flips a few more pages, then runs his finger along the smaller rows of photos, stopping in the middle. “Yep. Right here.”

  He spins the book toward me. Her hair is shorter than in her senior picture, but it's again like looking in a mirror. And it's odd to see her smiling. I don't recall her smiling very much.

  “Do you, uh, know anything about your dad?” he asks.

  “I think his name was Jay,” I tell him. “I don't know his last name. And he played football. But that's seriously it. No idea if they were in the same class or what.”

  He nods, then starts flipping through the pages.

  I pick up my phone and text my grandmother.

  Thanks. Another question. Do you know if Jay was in the same grade?

  It takes a moment for her to respond.

  I seem to recall that he was. She mentioned something about graduating at the same time.

  Okay. Thanks.

  What are you doing?

  Looking at old yearbooks. Just curious.

  Okay. But I think I recall one other thing.

  What?

  He didn't go to Del Sol.

  My heart drops.

  He didn't?

  No. I'll double check with your grandfather, but I vividly remember learning that at some point during an argument. I will check with him to make sure I'm correct, though.

  I sigh.

  Okay. Thanks.

  I close the yearbook. “Never mind.”

  Ricky is still flipping through pages. “Never mind what?”

  “Never mind looking,” I tell him. “Apparently, he didn't even go here.”

  He looks up. “What?”

  “He didn't go here,” I say again. “At least that's what my grandmother thinks she remembers.” I suddenly feel stupid for sharing all of this with him. “Look, it's all just weird. But never mind. It's going to be impossible to figure it out, and it probably doesn't even matter. I was just being curious, anyway.”

  He looks down at the book. “Are you sure? We can keep looking. Maybe just look for guys named Jay?”

  I shake my head and stand up. “No, it's fine. Lost cause.”

  “Are you positive?” he says, flipping through a few more pages. “I can keep looking.”

  “He didn't go here,” I say, gathering up the yearbooks. “What's the point?”

  “I...I don't know,” he says. “I just don't want you to give up if this is something you want to try and figure it out.”

  I put the yearbooks back on the shelf, then grab my stuff off the table. “It's fine. I don't want to waste your time.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I'll see you around,” I tell him and walk out before he can see the tears stream down my face.

  Chapter 12

  I zone out through my afternoon classes, still disappointed and angry about the morning conversation with my mother and not being able to find anything concrete about my father. It makes me feel even more disconnected from the world, and it feels like I have no hope to change it any time soon. I hear my teachers speaking, but I'm not paying attention. I'm just waiting for that last bell to ring.

  When it does, I grab my stuff, skip stopping at my locker, and head outside. I push open the door, hoping I can beat the crowd to the lot, and get out of here as fast as I can.

  And I run straight into Mercy.

  Literally.

  Both of our heads are down and we bump into each other. We each take a step backward, surprised first at the collision, then with whom we've collided with.

  “Oh, hey,” Mercy says, her cheeks flushing pink. “Sorry.”

  “Hey,” I say. “Yeah, me too. I wasn't paying attention. Sorry.”

  “I...I had to run to my car to get something,” she says. “To turn in for English.” She holds up a paper. “I was reading it and not watching where I was going.”

  “It's okay,” I say. “I was just spacing out.”

  We stand there for a couple of seconds as people stream out of the building around us.

  “How are you?” she finally asks.

  “I'm okay,” I say. “How are you?”

  She nods. “I'm okay, too. I...I saw you got a car.”

  I nod. “Yeah. My grandparents got it for me.”

  “It's cute,” she says.

  “It was nice of them to do it,” I say. “I don't think my grandmother wanted to drive me everywhere.”

  I don't mean it to sound like I'm criticizing the fact that she and I aren't driving to and from school anymore, but I'm worried that's how it sounds.

  “That's super nice of them,” she says. “I like the color.”

  “My grandfather picked it out,” I say.

  We stand there again in silence for a few seconds and it's almost painful. We used to talk about nothing and everything without any thought behind it, talking just to talk. Now, it feels like we can't even put a couple of sentences together that sound normal.

  I hate this.

  “I'm sorry,” I blurt out.

  She frowns. “I was looking down, too. Not your fault.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “For...lying to you. About everything.”

  “Oh,” she says, looking down. “It's okay.”

  “No, it's not,” I tell her. “I've wanted to call you or text you, but I've chickened out every time. I just want you to know that if I could take it all back and explain it all to you, I would.” I clear my throat. “I saw the look on your face at the dance when...you found out. And all I wanted to do was take it all back and tell you everything. So I'm sorry I didn't do that, and I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did. It should've come from me.”

  Mercy looks away for a moment. “Reese did all that, right? It was her that set it all up, right?”

  “It doesn't matter,” I say. “What matters is that it's true and I should've told you without making up some bullshit story. You deserved better than that from me after you were so nice to me when I moved here. So I'm not asking you to forgive me. But I just want you to know that I'm sorrier than you'll ever know.”

  She hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you. For saying all of that.”

  I mean everything I say to her. I am sorry and I do wish I could take it all back. And I don't expect her to forgive me. I know I've blasted a hole right through any trust or friendship we had. I have no right to expect anything from her. But I do want her to know that I'm sorry and I hope she believes me.

  She holds up the paper. “I gotta get this turned in. He told me I had fifteen minutes after the last bell to get it in.”

  I shuffle to the side. “Oh, yeah. Totally. Didn't mean to hold you up.”

  “No, no,” she says quickly. “You didn't. At all. I just...I just gotta make sure I get it turn
ed in.”

  “Sure.”

  We stand there awkwardly for another moment.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “I'm gonna go.”

  I nod.

  She passes by me and I start toward the parking lot.

  “Hey, Nola,” she says.

  I turn around.

  “Thanks for saying all that,” she says. “I...just...thanks for saying it.”

  I nod again.

  Mercy turns and disappears inside the school.

  Chapter 13

  I'm not sure if it's the frustration from the yearbooks or seeing Mercy or what, but I have a ton of pent up energy as I drive home and I know I need to get it out of me. I pull into the driveway, throw my stuff inside, change my clothes, grab my board, and head down to the beach.

  The water looks good. There's not much wind and the sets are consistent. I don't have any trouble paddling out to my own private lineup, far away from the group of surfers near the pier. I catch my breath, then aim myself back toward the shore. I see a really slow moving wave with a short face coming at me and I start paddling inward. It's exactly the kind of wave I like. It's not too big and it's not too strong and it gives me time to get up.

  The wave lifts me up and I hop to my feet.

  And promptly fall backwards into the ocean.

  The leash around my ankle saves the board from shooting toward the shore and after I spit out the mouthful of water I've accidentally taken in, I yank on the leash and pull the board back towards me, angry that I missed a really good wave.

  I paddle back out and see the next wave coming. I get myself in position and start paddling toward the shore. The wave lifts me up and I bounce to my feet.

  And tip over to the side.

  I manage to not take a mouthful of salt water this time, but I'm just as mad as the first time as I pull the board back to me.

  And that's how it goes for the next hour. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't get up on the board.

  My feet go out from under me.