Chapter 6
Despite the warm breezes of the next week, I felt no joy. Bran continued to be pleasant but said nothing more of his request. Our classes together were kept civil but distant. We had almost no time to talk given classes, homework, and rehearsals. My mother had managed to make arrangements at work to pick me up from rehearsals but the committment to nightly practices conflicted with several evening shifts. On Friday, Mrs. Montgomery threatened me with detention but thankfully did not deliver. The threat alone was enough to give my bile a resurgence. I had no idea what I was going to do about the concert. I would let everyone down.
Michael wasn't helping. At every opportunity he asked if I was going to give Bran an answer. If I refused to acknowledge this question, he would then ask if I had thrown out the stupid stone yet. I had considered making him touch it to prove he was wrong but I couldn't. I hadn't even had the nerve to touch it again myself. The more he asked if I had disposed of it, the more I was convinced he was right. It was just a stupid rock, which meant I had hallucinated.
Between my worries about Bran and the stone, I was becoming murderously depressed by the time the weekend came. Saturday's rehearsal had been so much of a nightmare I couldn't even speak when my mother picked me up. Michael proved even less help when I hoped he could come over later to be a good distraction. He was strangely busy the whole weekend so I spent it forcing myself to finish several more university applications. All the while, my gnawing demanded Bran's presence. Was there such a thing as pre-withdrawal, before an addiction set in?
On Tuesday morning, I was miserable as I banged on Michael's door, texted him, phoned him, and banged on his door again. I was only half aware of saying hello when he finally appeared, pulling on his shirt. As we waddled over the ice rink that comprised the sidewalks, Michael lectured me about Bran.
"There is no guy who would be as patient as he is being," he said for a countless time. "And he hasn't shown any weird signs so far. Don't you like him?"
I had grunted an affirmative but was trying not to encourage Michael's tirade so I said no more.
He shook his head. "What's stopping you?"
I sighed. I had been wondering the same thing myself. Maybe it was just the timing of it all. I got a strange stone and Bran showed up the next day. Then there were the physical symptoms I had around him. Perhaps it all came down to how much my life was beginning to resemble the Twilight Zone. "I don't know," I muttered.
"If you wait until you're not afraid, you'll never do anything in life. Just do it already. Tell him today."
"Back off Michael."
He rolled his eyes and we walked the rest of the way to school in silence. I didn't want to talk about Bran. If all the oddness weren't enough, I was still worried about how I was going to manage to practice. I had lain awake the night before trying to figure out something but all I could come up with was asking Michael. I would if I had to but I really did not want to, not for this. I just couldn't stand his criticism over every note I played. I had finally decided that I would give myself until the end of the week to figure out something. If no other solution came to me, I would ask him. The gnawing in my chest had its own suggestion but I refused to entertain that one.
The bell rang and I looked at the clock. I blinked several times. Lunch, already? When had that happened? The morning had disappeared. Michael said he would drop his books off at his locker and meet up with me at the cafeteria.
I walked alone with my eyes focused on the ground a few feet in front of me. The hum of students talking always sounded the same. It didn't matter who was there or what the conversation was, it all blended into one wave of babble. I wished I could tune it out.
"Pew, what stinks in here?" Especially that one. Samantha's overly loud question was a familiar taunt that broke past the hum. I kept walking even as I felt my muscles—starting in my feet and moving up my legs—begin to turn to spiked jelly.
"You'd stink too if you'd been wearing the same jeans every day for a month," Amanda replied.
I did not have to look up to know they were referring to me. It didn't matter that I knew they were just trying to be mean. I thought about my shower that morning and pulling my fresh jeans out of the drawer. I tried to take a subtle whiff of myself. I couldn't smell anything. Maybe I did smell.
Samantha giggled. "At least we don't have gym with stinky today. Can you... "
She cut off. She had never stopped mid-insult before. I looked up and saw Bran had just come around the corner at the other end of the hall. I rolled my eyes. She was still hoping to impress him it seemed.
He saw me and greeted me with a wave and a smile. I smiled back but my heart sank. What if I did smell? Best not to let him get too close. He stopped two feet in front of me. I rocked back on my feet, trying to move out of smelling range without him noticing.
"I'm looking forward to tonight," he said.
I furrowed my brow as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. "Excuse me?" I asked when I couldn't find any logical answer.
He chuckled. "I suspected as much."
I scowled. I was stinky and stupid. I didn't like this feeling. I needed to go home and drown myself in my bathtub. "Care to explain?" I asked.
"Michael said you two were going to the cheap theatre tonight and said you'd both like me to come."
My mouth fell open. It was too late to show any semblance of charisma, not that I had any anyway. He looked sheepish admitting it. I didn't' know why. He wasn't the one pulling manipulative tactics.
His smile faltered. "If you really don't want me to come... "
I raised my hands defensively. "That's not it at all. I had no idea we had plans tonight. I'd love for you to come." Had I just said that? I meant it but why had I said it?
His smile broadened again. "Great!"
We walked to the cafeteria together where I found Michael waiting. He was arrogant enough not to bother looking guilty. I glared at him. In reply, he just shot me a winner's grin. I clenched my jaw shut. He had nerve. He might be my best friend but it gave him no right to make decisions like that for me. I refused to speak to him for the rest of the school day.
That evening, the warm breeze had been driven out by another arctic front. Meteorological whiplash was so common this time of year, I barely noticed. Bran zipped up his red winter coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
We were standing outside the theatre waiting for Michael who had run off claiming he had to grab something before the movie. I had texted my mother to tell her where I was only to get a text back telling me to have fun because she would be at work all night. She had made no comment about how I should be studying, or practicing for that matter. I sighed and stuffed my phone back in my pocket. It must really have been a bad night at the clinic.
"How are you finding our music pieces?" Bran asked.
"Not bad." I scanned the road coming into the parking lot for any sign of Michael. He didn't have a car, so he would have to walk to the theatre. Bran had driven us both in his old beat-up Ford.
"Where do you practice?" he asked. "I didn't see a piano at your house."
The question pulled me away from looking for Michael. Internally, I groaned. "Nowhere at the moment. Mrs. Montgomery gave me permission to use the music room but my mother isn't comfortable with me walking home alone lately so I'm not sure what to do."
He smiled. "Why don't I practice with you and then I can give you a ride home?"
It was the very solution the gnawing had been demanding. At his words, it grew its talons, gave it's piercing screech and gripped my insides, making them erupt in flames of torment. I stepped closer to him. He was so warm and it was so cold out. I should say yes. It made the most sense. He had to practice too. Everyone would be happy.
It started to snow but not beautiful, soft flakes, but a nasty indecisive mixture of rain, sleet, and flurries.
"I'll consider it," I said.
Just then, Michael arrived and my jaw nearly slammed into the pavement.
His arm was around the shoulders of Maria Wallace, who seemed to be questioning the wisdom of joining us.
"Hi guys," Michael said cheerfully. "You both know Maria."
Bran shook her hand and said hello. I muttered a greeting before glaring at Michael who gave me an innocent look as if he hadn't just brought an intruder to our time together.
"Bran," I said, "Why don't you and Maria go buy the tickets. I just need to ask Michael something."
Bran and Maria shared obvious looks but went inside without protest. I didn't care if they knew what I was doing. I just couldn't handle an audience while I did it. The sleet had soaked my hair and was proceeding to force the rest of my body into shivers. I should have been going inside too but I needed to say it.
"Maria Wallace?" I demanded. "I thought she was too stupid for you?"
"Hey, back off," he shot at me. I was stung by the intensity of his venom. "She's not stupid. She's just never had anything expected of her before. She's really eager to learn. It's the stupid people around her that hold her back. Her friends only talk about clothes and celebrities, and her parents give her the princess treatment. She's enjoying being exposed to new things."
I stepped closer so that I had to crane my head back to look into his face. "And what new, enjoyable experiences have you been exposing her to? The world of math isn't that interesting."
"Don't knock math," he warned. If anyone else had made that comment, I would have laughed. Given that it was Michael, I knew he was serious. He narrowed his eyes. "And as far as anything else we might do, that isn't really your business," he added.
"I'm your best friend!" I shouted above the splashing of the cars driving by.
His jaw tensed. "Yes, friend. Now, be one and don't butt in on a good thing."
I swung my arm to slap him. He grabbed my wrist before impact and held it firm. What was I doing? And when had he gotten so strong? Or was he always this way and I'd never noticed before because I'd never tested him? "Let me have this," he said. "It's the first time a girl has liked me, let me see where it goes."
I couldn't argue. I was still in shock over what I had almost done and how easily he had stopped me. I yanked my hand away. "Fine. Whatever. But she totally does not deserve you."
I stormed into the theatre. Bran and Maria had gotten the tickets and were waiting for us by the snack counter. The smell of spilt pop and cheap popcorn was overwhelmingly vile. The dim pink lighting of the lobby only confirmed that I had entered hell. I walked up to Bran, ignoring Maria with the exception of an indistinct nod to acknowledge her presence.
"You going to be ok?" Bran whispered in my ear.
Did his breath have to make me want him so bad when I needed to be angry? The gnawing was regaining the strength of its shape again and stretching from my chest cavity into my gut where it churned with undisguised need.
"Maybe," I whispered back. "If I don't have to commit murder before the end of the night."
He put his arm around my shoulder and, despite myself, I leaned into his side. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist.
"Well, if jealousy drives you to me, then maybe I should encourage Mike to date a bit more," he teased.
I chose to ignore his statement only because it was better than admitting he was completely right. He deserved better than that. Michael did too.
Though Bran bought me some popcorn, I couldn't bring myself to eat. The anger had taken too strong a hold. If I put anything in my system, I would have just vomited it right back up.
Bran also seemed to know me too well. When we went to sit down, he made sure I was on the far side of him from Michael and Maria and conveniently twisted in his seat just right so that his body blocked them from view. As he moved, I caught a quick glimpse of Michael's hand wrapped around Maria's.
How dare she jump all over him? She didn't care anything about him before her precious clothing allowance was threatened. Maybe she was hoping to get free tutoring now so she could use that money for more clothes. It couldn't be that she actually cared about Michael. None of the girls had given him a second look before. Why her? Why did it have to be her, the drop dead gorgeous goddess?
"Hand me your phone," Bran said.
I raised a brow but complied. He fiddled with the apps for a moment before wrapping one arm around me and stretching out the other to take a picture of us.
"Smile," he said.
I pursed my lips and looked out the corner of my eye at him.
He lowered the phone to look at the picture. "Wow, you really do look pissed," he teased. He held up the phone again and took another picture, this time of himself flashing his smile. He held up the phone for me to see. No one should be that ridiculously photogenic but, as I looked up at the photo, I was very much glad he was.
"Take a look at it when you need the reminder to smile," he said with a gentle nudge to my ribs. Then he started typing on my phone and as he did, he added, "And if you need a voice, just give me a call."
He handed my phone back. I looked down at the new entry in my contacts list. I swallowed but said nothing. I simply stuffed the phone in my pocket before staring at the movie screen, waiting for the previews to start.
When the movie ended, Bran claimed I didn't look well. I knew it was a ruse to get me to go home early. I agreed only so that I could get away from seeing Michael and Maria with their arms wrapped around each other's waists.
Bran took me home and walked me to the door. I forced myself to put all my concentration into opening it. Even simple tasks could be effective distractions.
"You going to be ok?" He asked as he followed me inside.
"Probably not," I grumbled as I hooked my coat on the coat rack. It slipped. With a violent tug, I replaced it on the hook. I gave another a rough pull on it with both hands to make sure it would stay in place. How could Michael betray me like this? I growl-screamed my frustration.
Bran grabbed my arm and pulled me into a great bear hug. I sunk into him. His warmth, his presence, his smell, all turned my tension into pudding. Tears threatened to fall but I refused to cry. I buried my face deeper into the folds of his coat, hoping to take refuge from my own emotions. Being closer to Bran was no refuge. It was opening the gate wide for the talons and the need. I could not pull away from him. It was a pain I had to endure.
"If you need me for anything," he whispered, "You have my number." He pulled back enough to look down into my eyes. "Even if I can't have more, I'm still your friend." He lifted his hand as if to caress my cheek. He hesitated and put it down again. "Eat something and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
I thanked him. I may not have shed any tears but I could hear their threat in my unsteady voice. I did not pull away despite his obvious words of parting. I kept my arms firmly around his waist as I looked up at him.
His eyes were beautiful. The colours never stopped their spiralling. My eyes lowered naturally to his lips. They were so close. His body was so warm. Why could I not give him what we both wanted? He'd let me kiss him if I tried. I wanted to try. The talons were raking my insides, promising to cease the torture if I gave them what they wanted.
I didn't.
He let go of me, said goodnight, and left. I remained standing on the front mat, trying to figure out what had just happened. As the shock faded, I realized how tired my body felt. I flopped onto the couch and tried to determine why I thought I had a right to be angry about Maria. Nothing in my life made sense anymore.
There was the familiar creak of Michael's front door. I still hadn't figured myself out but I needed to talk to him and texts just wouldn't do. I didn't bother with my coat or lacing up my boots before hopping over the lawn to his front door.
He opened it within seconds of my knock.
"What is it?" he asked coldly.
I pushed past him, not waiting for an invitation. "We need to talk."
"Yeah about how you weren't exactly nice to Maria," he scolded, adding a glare to make sure I got the point.
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br /> I was exasperated. I hadn't said anything mean to her. I may not have been happy about what was happening but I had kept my mouth shut in front of her. She probably cried again just to get sympathy. "She's not right for you!" I blurted.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Because she isn't you?" he said.
I wanted to slap him but this time held my hand still. I was not that person. I was not someone who became violent especially at minor slights. "You're my best friend," I insisted. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"You don't want me to date anyone else," he shot back. "I hoped having Bran would change that but you're torturing the poor guy. You want him. He wants you. But you won't let go of me. We are friends, Lucina. We have been friends for years. Don't ruin that. Don't turn this into something it isn't."
Something it isn't? We were practically conjoined twins! He was everything to me. I had been everything to him!
I threw myself at him and pressed my lips to his. But there was no indulgent spark; there had been no time. He had grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me away.
"I know you have feelings for me," he said as if scolding a child. "I know you better than anyone and I'm too smart not to have figured it out. But we're friends. I am your friend."
We stared at each other. The emotions inside us spun into an invisible miasma that filled the air around us.
"And nothing more, ever," I muttered. It was in the open now, even to me.
He heaved a sigh and the exhale of breath softened his features. "Just because we have the history we do doesn't mean we need to end up together. Maybe love will be for us in the next life but I like Maria. She's pretty funny and nothing like I had expected. I've got a chance now and I'm taking it."
I could not help but feel he had left unsaid, "Unlike you." It made me feel only worse. I had just taken a chance on him and it was now a charred mass at the bottom of a cliff. "But you won't take one with me?" I asked. I couldn't look at him anymore. My cheeks burned with shame.
His sympathy only went so far. "Because I don't feel that way about you." He threw up his hands. "For crap's sake, Lucina, I've known you long enough to remember you running through sprinklers in a pair of Care Bear panties."
What did that have to do with anything? I was too much the girl next door so I was off the table? "You're heartless," I whispered.
He tried to rest his hands on my shoulders but I shook him off. I could keep him from touching me but I couldn't keep him silent.
"If I were heartless," he said, "I wouldn't be making sure you face reality and survive it. Please, Lucina, don't throw away our friendship. I do love you. I absolutely adore having you around but us together isn't both ways. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. Bran is head over heels for you. He's intelligent and a freaking Adonis. He deserves you."
"I deserve you!" I was mortified even as I said it but I couldn't take it back just like the truncated kiss that would forever linger between us as an awkward reminder of everything that should have remained unsaid.
"Go home; sleep," he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "In the morning, we can pretend none of this ever happened."
That was the most ridiculous thing he had said so far but I couldn't take listening to him anymore. The rejection was too thorough. Michael knew me better than anyone but he still didn't want me. I had kissed him of all things! I had kissed Michael and his response had been to fend me off as if I were an attacking animal. I was the problem. I was lacking. I was pathetic. I swallowed hard and ran from the house.
I couldn't bring myself to return to the confines of the bungalow. I was freezing but I had to run. The sleet soaked through my shirt. I was shivering. I kept running. The air scraped against the inside of my throat on its way to pierce my lungs. It was too cold and I had lost even basic survival sense. I was heartbroken but even that was becoming too little to hide how stupid I was being. My idiocy was the sting that made it all the worse.
I had been crying. I didn't want anyone to see me but I was freezing and the store was only around the corner. I needed a few minutes to warm up before trying to get back home where I could wallow in self-pity.
I walked in and blinked as I realized Bran was just setting a large chocolate bar on the counter. When he saw me, his entire face became consumed with worry.
He hurried over to me. The man behind the counter reached over to rest his hand on the phone as if ready to use it at any moment. Maybe he thought I was on drugs. Nope, just the pathetic and emotional teenager over here.
"Are you alright?" Bran asked. "What happened?" Even as he asked, he took off his coat and put it around my shoulders.
I held it shut and tried to ignore my shaking by focusing on his divine smell that now encased me. "I-I-I'm j-just a c-complete f-fool," I said through chattering teeth.
"I'll drive you home." He helped me out to his car, leaving his snack behind.
Once inside the car, he turned the heater up to full blast. The windshield wipers moaned and wailed back and forth.
"What did Michael say to you?" he asked, and for the first time, I heard him sound angry.
The sharp tone sent a jolt of fear-filled adrenaline through me. The brief image of him kicking down Michael's door flashed through my brain. I wouldn't doubt Bran would do that if he felt warranted. This small sign that he would fight in my defense brought back the memory of the stone. The voice had said he was my protector. Was that who Bran really was? And if so, why?
Whether he was or not, I needed no protector this time, at least not from anyone but myself. Michael had done nothing but be honest. I was the moron and the failure.
"Nothing I shouldn't have figured out for myself." I wiped the tears from my eyes. "I'm just an idiot. Why did I do this to myself? Why didn't I realize it sooner? Why didn't I know he didn't feel the same?"
"You're eighteen. No one thinks straight at eighteen," he said as if he meant it. His anger had dissipated but the pity that replaced it did nothing to make me feel better.
"And now I get to live with this mortifying moment for the rest of my life, always remembering the night I destroyed my relationship with my best friend." I was going to be sick. I wrapped my arms around my middle and doubled over, trying to breathe and force the bile back down at the same time.
"Nah, you guys will get back to normal. It will take some time but it will happen. This isn't the kind of decision that haunts you for a thousand years. There are far worse things... " He trailed off.
I was such a complete jerk. "Bran," I said softly.
"Yes, dove?" He was focused on the road and hadn't looked at me but just the use of that word had made all the difference. The shock of my situation began to dissipate. I was upset but I would live. I wondered if I would ever confess to him the effect that one word had upon me. I wasn't sure but I did have another confession to make. I might as well get all the humiliation over with in one night.
"I'm sorry I haven't been fair to you. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't saying yes. I really do like you, but now that I know what was holding me back and given how this all happened, I feel like I wouldn't be treating you fairly to say yes."
He smiled but there was a hint of that pained grin he had given me on that first night in my living room. "You do know that makes no sense whatsoever?" He asked.
I sighed. I could never get it right. "I just don't want you to feel like you're sloppy seconds or something like that. You deserve a girl who wants you outright with no reservations."
"And yet I still want you," he said with a completely straight face.
We turned onto my deserted street. It was too cold and too many elderly people lived near me for anyone sane to be outside. At least there had likely been no witnesses to my breakdown. I didn't need my mother hearing about what had happened.
"I'll get there," I whimpered. "I want to get there but, if I say yes tonight, I'll worry it's just to compensate for feeling rejected. I want to feel right about it."
&
nbsp; We pulled up in front of my house. He put the car into park and looked at me. "And I want you to feel right about it," he said. "I told you I'd wait. After all, I've waited this long."
I smiled at his joke. It had only been two weeks.
He leaned over and my heart jumped as the talons gripped into it. After everything we had just said, was he really going to try putting the moves on me? But when he reached out with his hand, he did not reach for me but rather under my seat. He pulled out a tattered copy of an old novel. He looked at the cover and hesitated. Then he handed it to me.
I looked up at him before looking back down at the book. The cover was black with bronze, embossed text spelling out To the Ends of the Earth; there was no author. The spine had been abused to the point that no recognizable text remained on it. The cover was bent, stained, and had a section missing from one corner. The edges of the pages were curled and yellow as if it had been kept in a damp basement.
"Nothing helps a broken heart quite like a good read," he said.
I flipped it over to read the back but it was blank.
He smiled. "You could say this story changed my life."
I could use a good distraction and he seemed convinced it would make a great one. I thanked him and started to pull off his jacket. "Thanks for driving me home."
"Keep it," he said. "I'll get it from you when I pick you up for school in the morning."
My heart warmed even more for him. I thanked him again before getting out of the car and walking back into the house; the book clutched to my chest. I didn't take his jacket off. Back in the safety of my home, with all the demands of social interaction having sapped me completely, I was too tired. I walked into my bedroom, set the book down on my nightstand, and collapsed onto the bed fully clothed. I fell asleep with his indulgent smell still wrapped around me.
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