by CJ Adler
Mason's expression intensifies as he takes a step forward. “But I know what I want now, and it's you, Aqueela. It's always been you.”
Chapter 18
Catch-22
I push Mason back forcefully with every ounce of my strength. I would never hurt Bells like this. How he has the audacity to do this blows my mind.
“Stay away from me, Mason,” I say, furious.
He reaches out to me. “Aqueela, come on, you had to have a clue—”
I flinch back and begin stepping further away from him, not wanting to think about. “Just leave me alone!” I shout before walking away from him. “Aqueela, wait!” He calls after me, but I merely begin to walk faster. Jay steps out after hearing all the commotion. I try to run past him, but he catches me by my upper arm and roughly pulls me to a halt. “What's going on?” he asks, his gentle tone contradicting his actions.
I make an attempt to pull away from him, but he only tugs me nearer in response. “Nothing that concerns you!” I snap at him.
“Aqueela, just tell me what happened. What did he do?” Jay asks, letting go of me.
I start walking again with him following me. “Nothing. Forget it.”
In my distraction, I bump into yet another obstacle. I mumble an apology, not bothering to look up before moving away. It seems as if fate is against me today because I'm suddenly yanked back and pulled into a hug. “Aqueels, what's up?”
Max.
I shake my head against his chest, wanting him to let it go. I don't want to be interrogated anytime soon.
Why can't I just have a dramatic exit in peace?
I wipe at my eyes, pulling away from him. I try to console myself, knowing that they're both watching. It's at times like these that I feel most vulnerable. I hide sadness behind fronts—feigned smiles, forced laughs and silly jokes.
“Aqueela,” Jay starts, not even trying to conceal his concern or mask his worry like he normally does, “let me help y—”
“Taylor!” One of his colleagues calls out to him from the back door of the bar. “We got people waiting on you.”
Jay sighs, his blue eyes losing light as his lips contort into a frown. “I'll be right there,” he answers smoothly, his back to his co-worker. His eyes wander to Max standing beside me. “See to it that she's okay, alright?”
Max nods. “You got it, buddy.”
Jay's gaze shifts to me a final time before he reenters the bar, having no other choice but to get back to work before he's told that he's slacking.
“You want me to take you home?” Max asks softly, tearing me from my thoughts.
I immediately shake my head. “I'll be fine.” I offer him a reassuring smile, but my smile falters and he sees it.
He changes topics. “I came by here, looking for you. Bells is a mess. She called me. She needs you,” he says. “Said I could find you here.”
I nod at Max, allowing him to lead me to his car.
***
“I'm sorry,” I repeat for what feels to be the hundredth time. I just need her to hear me say it, even if she doesn't know why I'm saying it. I need her to understand the underlying message behind it all. I'm apologizing for so much more than what she's aware of.
A tear runs down Bell's cheek as I embrace her, rubbing her back comfortingly. “It was just out of nowhere. I knew he was drifting, but this was sudden. I don't understand. I thought he was the one for me.”
He was the one for her, at least for the moment. This is my fault. I'm the one that encouraged the relationship because I knew how much she liked Mason. This all could have been avoided had I not interfered. It's my fault Bells is hurting right now.
“Everything happens for a reason, Bells. I know it's hard to accept, but there is someone better out there for you,” I reassure her as best as I can, not exactly the comforting type. I'm out of my depth here.
Bell wipes at her eyes and tries to put on a brave face. “I'm sorry that I'm crying so much,” she mumbles, a ghost of a smile on her face, any trace of happiness gone.
I shake my head at her, dismissing her words, letting her know that I don't mind. She can cry all she likes. Although, call me insensitive, I really do hope that she stops soon. She's making me just as heartbroken. I feel her pain. That's what friendship is about.
“How are you coping? I haven't even asked how you are,” she says through fresh tears, expressing concern. “I noticed you weren't at school.”
I shrug and avert my eyes, wanting to shift the subject from me to something else, but she isn't budging. I resist sighing aloud. “I'm fine,” I lie, hoping she'd buy it.
I glance at Max, needing his assistance. He's standing against the wall with his hands deep in his pockets, clearly not equipped for this kind of dilemma but truthfully, neither am I. He can't be as terrible as me. I could do with his help.
I motion with my eyes for him to say something—I, myself, am running out of things to say to comfort her, other than saying how much of an idiot Mason is.
“Guys, huh?” Max awkwardly clears his throat, his eyes trained on Bells.
She turns to face him, her lips tilting up ever so slightly. I gesture to him, behind her back, to continue.
“We're all idiots. Don't know how you girls put up with us,” he adds as he makes his way over to her side. “You all deserve medals.”
Bell ends up smiling, unable to hold it in for any longer. I shoot him a thumbs-up.
“Aqueels, you should go home,” Bell suddenly says after observing my mood. “I'll be okay. I'll just talk to you tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I ask, hesitant.
“Sweetie—” she takes my hand in hers, “—I've never been less sure of anything in my life.”
I laugh, aware that she's only joking.
Still, I open my mouth to protest, not wanting to leave her alone, but Max interrupts before I can get a word out. “I'll stay with her,” he volunteers.
I see you, Max.
“Thank you,” Bells replies, that same small smile gracing her lips.
I nod at Max, letting him know that I'm leaving her in his care. It's not that
I want to leave, it's just that I have to. Yolanda called.
***
As if to match my mood, I wake up to a glum morning. I step out of the house to find it snowing more heavily than usual . I sigh , running back inside to retrieve a scarf and a beanie . I slip on my hoodie before beginning my walk to school.
Staring up at the white sky, I found myself entranced by the regal sight of a vivacious bird flying against the fierce winds. It's a pivotal moment for me. I should never give up either, no matter how powerful the opposing force is.
It's times like these, when I look at nature in itself, that I find myself completely spellbound by the beauty of it. It makes it difficult to deny the existence of a god. He must be. He must be here, right now.
Call me an opportunist, but I take the rare moments of life as they come. I'm inept at doing otherwise.
“Alright—” a voice clears from beside me before I feel a hand latch onto my wrist loosely, “—sidebar.”
I'm pulled aside before I'm met by the warmth embedded in his brown eyes.
“Were you planning to drown in your thoughts for the entire day?” Max asks me teasingly, having noticed that something isn't quite right. He doesn't give me time to answer, instead, speaking over me. “Let's cut to the chase, are you okay?”
I nod weakly, keeping my poise. In hindsight, I should have seen the question coming.
“Bells told me to tell you that she isn't coming to school today,” he says, making casual conversation, failing to see through me. He walks into the school building with me, but not before dusting the snowflakes off his jacket and hair.
“I figured,” I answer, barely paying him any attention. My focus is trained on the group, Burnsville Blazettes, dancing freely in the hallways, typically taking up more space than necessary. “How is she?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from the dancers dressed in
black and gold—our school's colors.
Max shakes his head as a frown appears on his face. “Not good. Mason is an idiot for breaking up with someone like her.”
“I know,” I agree, feeling guilty for the part I played in it, intentional or Not.
At least, after today, I'll be on spring break.
“I just wish I knew why he broke up with her. What made him do it? They were always such a close couple. Who changed that?” Max asks, deep in thought, his eyes flitting over to me as it clicks in his puny brain.
“Someone despicable,” I answer in a small voice with a resigned shrug of my shoulders.
“Aqueela,” he drawls out in an act to comfort me. “C'mon, it's not your fault.”
That's not entirely true. Mason was right. I did have somewhat of a clue, but when the thought came to mind, I'd purposely force it away in an attempt to deliberately blind myself from the lecherous truth.
Catch-22.
I glance back up at my friend, the guilt sinking in, refusing to settle. I feel queasy at the idea of being partially responsible for this mess. “I better get to class,” I lie—there is nothing else I could care less about. “I'll see you around, Max.”
“What? No 'Maxipad' today?” he asks, taken aback by my extreme lack of humor.
“Not today,” I admit flatly.
“No wonder it's snowing,” he jokes in an effort to lift my spirits.
I feign a smile before leaving him, walking in the direction of my locker, uninterested in going to my first class today.
With an emptiness in my chest, I halfheartedly fumble at my locker before I finally manage to unlock it. I take out my camera, leaving behind my chemistry book; there's no point in trying, I'm flunking anyway.
I loosen my backpack, shrugging it off before shoving it inside my locker for safekeeping.
“Lawson.” Laiken leers, my locker door suddenly slamming shut under his palm.
I tense, slowly turning to face him. “What do you want?” I scowl, fixating my gaze on anywhere but him.
A frown slides onto his lips as he stares down at me for a second too long.
“'Happy-go-lucky' actually in a bad mood this morning?” he asks, his wandering eyes flickering over my face as if trying to read me.
I fold my arms across my chest, hell-bent on refusing to answer.
His face turns emotionless as he removes his palm off of my locker, surprising me when he takes a small step back from me. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself as if thinking better of it. Instead of throwing an insult, he retreats.
I furrow my eyebrows as I watch him leave. I leave it be, my legs leading me without me even registering where I'm headed. I glance up at the bare tree, Jay's tree, with a smile stretching across my lips. Feeling slightly more at ease with the familiarity of it, I crouch under the tree, careful not to touch the snow.
I remove the cap from the lens of my camera as I begin taking rough shots, trying to erase all thoughts from my mind. I'm sick of pretending that everything is perfectly okay, when really, I'm drowning in a pool of acid and can't break surface.
“Hey.”
His voice snaps me out of my trance. I glance through my camera's lens, moving it up, only to see him standing before me in his infamous leather jacket.
“Think of the devil and he shall appear,” I mumble nonchalantly, unable to hold back my smile at seeing him here. He's rocked up at just the right time. He's got mad skills. “But you can leave now,” I say, wanting some solitude.
He simply shakes his head.
It's then that I, through the lens, see him get down on his haunches, kneeling before me with a blank expression. “What's wrong?” he asks.
I focus the camera elsewhere in an attempt to distract myself. However, nothing in this garden is as distracting as Jay Taylor.
I hear him sigh in irritation when realizing that I'm not cooperating. It's a second later when he leans forward and removes the camera from my hands so that he can see me properly. “Let's talk.”
I cross my arms and glower at him. “Why?”
The bluntness of my question seems to catch him off guard as something foreign flickers across his eyes. He lifts one hand to scratch the back of his neck, averting his eyes as if uncomfortable. It's only then that I see the jar in his hands.
I stare at him pointedly, curious. “What's that that you got there?” I eventually ask. My attention has been perked by his increasing shyness.
“Take it.” He offers the jar to me, meeting my gaze once more.
I snatch the glass jar from his hands all too eagerly. I turn the jar in my hand, taking in all the shapes and realizing that they're cookies in the form of different types of hats.
“You made this for me?” I ask wearily, caught off guard by the gesture.
“Well, you looked down yesterday.” He shrugs. “Don't read too far into any of this because…” He falters when I shoot him a look, letting him know that he's ruining the moment. He gives in. “Yeah. I made it for you.”
“I didn't know you can cook,” I utter, my eyes moving from Jay to the jar again.
“You don't cook cookies, Aqueela,” he corrects with a grin intact.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I didn't know you can bake,” I say, rephrasing for his sake.
“I can't,” he admits. “But I'm a fast learner when I'm desperate.” He changes the subject when realizing his mistake. “What are you doing out here under my tree in any case?”
I glare at him. “First, it's my tree; second, it's none of your business; and third, bye-bye.”
“Nice try, but I'm not going anywhere,” he tells me, adjusting his position so that he's crouching beside me.
I laugh at his stubborn attitude and pop a beret shaped cookie into my mouth. Shockingly enough, it tastes real good. Seeing as it's butter-scotch, my all-time second favorite, it would. I arch an eyebrow at him. “You remembered?”
A lazy smile crosses his features. “I said 'noted', didn't I?”
I hold out the jar to him, but he just shakes his head, declining the offer. “Your loss.” I take out a second cookie and inspect it with a wide smile. “I can't believe that you baked me cookies. I mean, you went out of your way learning to bake and you still found the time to shape them into little hats—”
“Cookie cutters, Aqueela.” He chuckles. “I'm good, but I'm not that good.”
“And you made it in my favorite flavor. You remembered.” I smirk at him.
“You better be careful or someone might just mistake us for friends,” I tease, winking up at him playfully.
“They wouldn't be mistaken.”
***
I skip into Bell's house, Max and Jay tagging along—not by choice but for my protection. I order them to wait in the lounge while I go see to my friend. If I'm right, she'll be up in her room crying and eating a bowl of ice cream while watching Batman. She always watches action movies when she's really upset, and when she's really angry, she listens to romantic songs.
I pass her mother on the way upstairs. “Oh hey, Aqueela.” She smiles as if genuinely happy to see me. “It's been a while.”
“Hey, Bell's mom.” I return her tender smile.
Jennifer rolls her eyes at me. “Honey, how many times have I told you to just call me Jennie?”
She's the closest thing I've ever had to a mom. I shrug. “Infinite?”
“If only there was a number to surpass infinity, then you'd be right,” she teases, knowing me well enough to know that I'm only kidding around.
At the sound of wails coming from upstairs, her smile fades and is quickly replaced with a frown. “I'm glad you're here, dear. I can't get through to that child of mine. I will wring Mason's neck when I see him in person again.”
She'll have to beat me to it. Perhaps she can stand in line. There's a lot of us that want to kill Mason.
“She's not holding up well then?” I question nervously.
She shakes her head. “Been cooped up in t
here all day. Even went as far as throwing a book at me.”
Sounds like Bella Bensten alright.
“Don't worry, Bell's mom. I got this.” I wink teasingly as I make my way up the last two steps.
“At least Mrs. J then?!” Jennifer calls after me and I can't help but laugh aloud.
I envy Bells. She has it good. Although, I'd like to think that Jennie is a mother to me too. It was Mrs. J who rushed me to the hospital when I needed stitches after attempting a backflip and it was Mrs. J who stayed with me all night long. However, it was my stepmother who paid the hospital fees.
I push these feelings of jealousy to the back of my mind as I knock on Bell's door.
“What now, Mom?!” Bell screams from the other side.
“Uhm…it's not your mom,” I reply back cautiously, my anxiety levels rising.
I need to be alert. My life is at stake here.
“Aqueela? Is that you? Oh, thank goodness! Come in before I hang Mr. Ted with my own underwear!”
I can't understand why she is angry, especially at her teddy bear. She should still be in the crying phase. If she moves too fast through the stages of grief, she'll become dangerous to mankind.
As soon as I turn the doorknob, I'm met by a loud shriek erupting from my friend, followed by a sobbing outburst and some sniffling before more crying noises follow. Then there's a loud bang, some crashing, and lots of yelling.
I wince. It's the worst kind of state that she can possibly be in—she's overly angry and overly sad at the same time. I look over my shoulder. It's not too late to turn back. I think better of it and open the door, only for her to fling herself into me.
“I'm so glad that you're here, Aqueela!” She tightens her death grip on me, her arms around my neck. “My mom is driving me insane. She's treating me like some fragile piece of glass ready to shatter! But do you want to know what I really want to break?!”
I can feel her claws, I mean, nails, digging into the base of my neck as her grip tightens to the point of suffocation. “No,” I say in a whisper, unable to breathe properly. She's cutting off all my air supply. “But I can guess.” She's borderline strangling me.