Breaking Rules

Home > Other > Breaking Rules > Page 19
Breaking Rules Page 19

by Puckett, Tracie


  Standing still at the podium, Gabe watched me with wide eyes. He stood expressionless and completely still, and the buzz all around us died down to complete silence. For a moment the whole crowd turned to him, watching and waiting for a response, but the longer we waited, it became apparent that Gabe wasn’t going to give us what we were waiting for. He wasn’t going to respond. He finally managed a vague expression, something that slightly resembled a wince, and then he looked down at the podium and read over his notes.

  “Okay,” he said, clearing his throat into the microphone.

  Again, he read the small index cards clutched in his hand. He darted a look at the crowd and then let go of a long, nervous breath.

  “Nothing in this world means more to me,” he said, and his words were drawn and carefully chosen. “Nothing means more to me than seeing a smile… on the face of the woman standing… next to me,” he said, turning to Lashell. He cleared his throat again as he looked away from the crowd, and I noticed in that moment that he was trying to avoid looking at me. My gaze fell on Lashell as she stood at the back end of the stage, looking as hurt and confused as I felt by Gabe’s strange reaction to my speech. “So it has been the honor of a lifetime to be part of this project. Thank you to the team for all of the hard work, a special thanks to Sugar Creek for allowing us to be part of this, and… well, thank you,” Gabe finally said, ending his speech and nodding to the crowd.

  He turned to Dad and nodded, and Dad bit his lip as he walked past Gabe, carrying a pair of giant scissors.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Gabe said, leaning into the microphone, “the Sugar Creek Park has officially reopened.” He backed away, helped as my father cut the ribbon, and then the two shook hands and posed—smiles and all—for the half-dozen photographers crowding the stage.

  It wasn’t until the crowd stopped clapping and the photographers cleared out that Gabe looked back down to me, still standing hurt and plastered right where I stood as I spilled my heart to him.

  “Gabe?” I asked, hoping he’d finally say something now that the crowd had thinned out.

  His gaze fell on mine, and he deliberately held my stare. I knew there was something he wanted to say, something he needed me to hear, but whatever it was, he was choosing—yet again—to keep it to himself.

  “You need to go,” he said, nodding in the direction of the parking lot. “Now. You shouldn’t have come here today, Mandy.”

  “Gabe?” I asked again, trying to read past the wall he’d put up. I knew he was hurt, I understood that. I’d said some really awful things to him, things he didn’t deserve. But I’d apologized, and I’d tried to make it right. Couldn’t he see how much of my heart I was giving to him? “Please, I’m trying—”

  “Amanda,” he said, and my heart sank to my stomach. I didn’t know if it was the fact that he never called me anything but Mandy, or if it was the tone in which he’d said it, but it hurt. Something about that one, little word cut me so deep that I could barely find my breath. “I have nothing to say to you right now. Go home.”

  With that, Gabe turned away from me, and slowly but surely, my heart broke again.

  Eighteen

  “Well, congratulations, Miss Parker,” Jones said. My head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He studied my face for a moment, trying to figure out which Parker sister I was, and when he realized that I was in fact Mandy, he nodded with a smile. “You’re famous. That little stunt of yours has gone national.”

  I prayed he didn’t mean what I thought he meant. Because of the way Jones ignored the news, I knew that if he (of all people) had heard about what happened yesterday at the park, then there was nowhere for me to hide. The whole world would know.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, scooting off the porch swing and standing straight.

  “There was a local news team at the park yesterday taping the ribbon cutting ceremony,” he said. “I don’t know how it happened so fast, but apparently that little clip of your speech has blown up.”

  “How did you—?”

  “Everyone’s talking about it,” he said. “I finally caved and checked it out for myself. It was… brutal, man. Brutal.”

  Jones nodded back at the porch swing as if to ask if he could join me, and I took a few steps back to reclaim my seat. He sat next to me.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked, patting my leg.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well,” he said, tilting his head to meet my gaze. “Not only has your speech gone viral, but—”

  “Gabe’s rejection, too,” I said, finishing the sentence that he didn’t want to finish. “It’s nothing, Jones, okay? I knew all along that liking him was a mistake. I was stupid, and…I listened to everyone around me when I should’ve only been listening to myself.”

  Jones nodded.

  “Dude, I’m sorry. I feel kinda responsible, and I wish there was something I could do to cheer you up,” he said, scooting back to get more comfortable. “Honestly, I feel terrible. I kinda told Bailey that she needed to push you, to make you go after the guy.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re special, Mandy,” he said, patting my leg again. “And you deserve someone in your life who’s going to notice and appreciate that about you. I thought Gabe did. I thought… I don’t know, that he was right for you somehow.” He took a deep breath and looked down. “I pitched an idea to Bailey a couple of days ago, and now I’m feeling like a huge jerk.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t listen to anyone else. You’d only listen to Bailey. So I told her that if she didn’t push you, if she didn’t force you to realize how much Gabe meant to you, that you were going to be a lonely stiff your whole life,” he said. “And you’re my friend. I don’t want that for you. Bailey said she’d take care of it, that she knew how she could get you two together so that you’d have one final opportunity to say a real goodbye. When things went wrong, I felt terrible, man. Terrible. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

  I watched Jones from the corner of my eye, and his lips settled into an apologetic frown. I could see that he truly felt responsible for my pain, but there was nothing he could’ve done to cause it or prevent it. I’d fallen for Gabe, and that was no one’s fault but my own. If I was hurt—and I was, I truly was—then it wasn’t his fault or anyone else’s.

  Things hadn’t gone as planned, but I could never blame Jones for that. Sad as he was, terrible as he felt, I was the one to blame. I couldn’t even put it on my sister’s shoulders, and she’d been the one who practically pushed me out the door. I should’ve seen it then, and it only became clear in retrospect, but Bailey’s dramatic breakdown had seemed too forced, too out of touch with her normal behavior. To lash out, to break down, to show her insecurities, that wasn’t my sister. It hadn’t occurred to me then, but it didn’t take long for it to click. She’d only put on that little production to get me to the park. She’d even busted her mirror—her prized possession!—just for effect, and that could only mean one thing: Bailey still cared, even if it didn’t always seem like it.

  “For what it’s worth,” I said, turning to face Jones, “thank you. You didn’t have to—”

  “I know,” he said, nodding. “But you’re like a little sister to me, Mandy. I just want to see you happy.” He took my hand and squeezed it.

  Just then my father stuck his head out the front door, looked between me and Jones, and shook his head.

  “You need to go home,” Dad said, nodding at my sister’s boyfriend. “Amanda, get inside. You and I need to have a talk.”

  And then he disappeared into the house, slamming the door behind him. I jumped at the sound of the slam, and then Jones stood up and offered me a hand.

  “I’ll have Bailey call you.”

  I hadn’t spoken to my father once since leaving the park ceremony the day before. After I fled the park
and returned home, I locked myself in my bedroom and refused to come out all night. I kept my headphones on, the volume turned up, and I focused on nothing but packing away my memories.

  I skipped school again, leaving the day wide open for packing, arranging, organizing, and drowning in my own self-pity. Dad and Bailey both stayed home to pack, too. But much to my surprise, neither of them had bothered saying a word to me all day—good or bad—and I hadn’t been sure how to interpret it.

  I pushed the door open and met my father with pause. He stood just inside the living room, his arms folded at his chest, and he tapped his foot as he waited for me to close the door.

  He watched as Bailey turned out of her room and dragged her feet down the hallway, and then he dropped his head back and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Now, Bailey,” he said, and she picked up the pace. Dad tilted his head down and watched my sister and me as we joined sides. He turned to me first. “What you did yesterday, Amanda, was rude, irresponsible, and incredibly ill-timed. You ruined one of the most significant ceremonies in this town in the last decade, and that kind of behavior should not be rewarded.”

  “Did he say should not?”

  “I think so,” I answered quickly.

  “Did you say should not?” Bailey asked, this time looking at Dad.

  The way he’d said it, the way he phrased that last sentence, my sister and I both knew he was about to say—

  “However,” he continued, closing his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say, “I can’t stand here right now and say that it didn’t move me to witness what I watched out there yesterday.”

  He looked over at me and shook his head.

  “I don’t know who you are, or what you’ve done with my Amanda,” he said. “But what I saw out there at the park… that wasn’t you.”

  “That was me.”

  “I stood there, and I watched my daughter come back to life,” he said “I’ve been waiting to see that face again since the moment we left LA. And for a while I tried to convince myself that the only reason you had the courage to stand down there and say those things was because you knew you were going back home; I wanted to believe you were happy that you’d finally learned to say goodbye. But we both know that’s not true. You weren’t smiling because of any of that. It was him. He brought you back to life, Mandy.”

  “Dad,” Bailey said, and her voice cracked, “are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I can’t pull you guys away from the things that make you the happiest,” he said. “So Mandy, if staying here in Sugar Creek will make you happy, if being here really means that much to you, then we’ll stay.”

  I closed my eyes and felt my heart swell. I knew better than to believe him or to even let myself get carried away. Dad made a habit of making promises only to turn around and pull the rug right out from under us. There had to be an angle. He had to have something up his sleeve. He’d fought too hard to go back to California, and I had a hard time believing that my sudden change in attitude and demeanor had been the one thing that had changed his mind. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me to tread softly. Dad wasn’t being completely honest. There was something else he wasn’t saying.

  “What’s the catch?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you give up your dream so we can stay here,” I said, “what do we have to do for you? What do you want from us?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just keep being yourselves. Keep being happy, Mandy.”

  “Um, hullo?” Bailey said, waving a hand to break our gaze. “What about me? I’m here too, don’t you know? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

  “Of course I do,” Dad said, trying to force a smile. “I know how much finishing school here means to you, and I’m not going to take that away from you girls. Not when you’re this close to being done.”

  “Why are you changing your mind now?” I asked, still skeptical. There had to be more to it. “Two nights ago you wouldn’t have it any way but yours.”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “I’m not falling for it,” I said. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What about the job, Dad?” Bailey asked, interrupting me. “What about Deacon Fell?”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s your dream,” I said. “Remember?”

  “Let’s just focus on being here for now,” he said, trying to brush past it. “How’s that sound?”

  When I didn’t say anything, I sensed that Dad had picked up on my skepticism.

  “Mandy,” he said, lowering his stare, “there’s no catch to this. I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to change my mind. You’ve made it clear that your life is here. I can’t make you go back and face those demons, especially if you’re not ready.” I took a deep breath and felt a tear stream down my cheek. “If being here means something to you, then it means something to me. Sugar Creek is your home. And for now, and for the foreseeable future, it’s home for all of us. So go unpack your things. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Well, well, well,” Georgia said, looking up from the table as I slid into the empty seat next to her. “If it isn’t Sugar Creek’s very own celebrity.”

  “Hush,” I said, looking down at the water bottle clutched in my hands.

  It was Wednesday afternoon and my first day back to school since my breakdown at the park on Monday. Since Dad had changed his mind about going to California, I had no reason to sit at home and sulk for another second. I’d somehow gotten my way, and even though I was still questioning Dad’s motives, I’d just decided to accept it for the time being. Maybe he’d really changed his mind. If there was anything I learned about my time spent with Gabriel Raddick, it was the human capability to change. I’d done it. I’d become an entirely different person because of him. Maybe something I’d done or said had really sparked change in my father, and if it had, I wasn’t going to complain.

  The rest of Georgia’s friends leaned forward and started hounding me with questions, wanting to know if there was more to the park story than what they’d seen online or on TV.

  “Did he ever respond?” one of the girls across from me asked. “Did he ever say anything else?”

  “Did he jump off the stage and kiss you?” another asked. “Please tell me he kissed you! I hate that the cameras didn’t catch the whole story!”

  “Oh, I think you guys pretty much saw it all,” I said, peeling at the paper on the water bottle.

  “Leave her alone, guys,” Georgia said, tilting her head with a sympathetic gaze. She nudged me with her shoulder, eliciting my stare. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, swallowing hard. “But I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I have news.”

  “Front page worthy?” she asked, dipping into her bag for a notebook and pencil.

  “No, no, no,” I said, reaching over to stop her. “Not that kind of news. Not for the paper.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m not moving to California,” I said, feeling my smile stretch ear to ear. “My dad said he couldn’t pull us away this close to the end. He’s letting us stay.”

  “Oh my goodness, that’s fantastic, Mandy!” Georgia squealed, and then she dropped the notebook and leaned over to give me a one-armed hug. The rest of her friends, all of the girls I’d yet to learn the names of, chorused a flood of congratulations and good for you cheers. “What changed his mind?”

  I wanted to spend the remainder of our lunch period explaining what happened leading up to my speech at the park. I wanted to tell Georgia about how scared I’d been standing there, spilling my guts to Gabe. I wanted to tell her how much it had broken my heart to watch him turn away from me. And then try to explain Dad, and how he said that he’d been waiting to see that side of me again for so long, how he said that he couldn’t take something like this away from me.

  I wanted to tell her, and I knew that I would. As soon as the time was
right.

  Managing to keep the conversation off of myself for the remainder of lunch, we cleared our table and dumped our trays twenty minutes later. As a group, we left the cafeteria and headed for our next classes. One at a time, each of Georgia’s friends turned into their next class or at their locker, and eventually it was just the two of us walking toward English class.

  “I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable,” she said, looking back to make sure none of her friends were within earshot. “They can be a little nosey.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “They’re not so bad.”

  “So…” she said, pursing her lips together as if she had a nosey question of her own to ask. “What are you going to do?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Are you going to keep going with the RI program after what happened with Gabe?” she asked. “After the way he blew you off?”

  “Of course I am,” I said. “I made a commitment.”

  “But that was before—”

  “Listen,” I said, taking her arm. She stopped walking, and we turned to one another. “My involvement in this program was never about him, okay? It was always about something else, something bigger. Yes, Gabe hurt me back there at the park, and sure, I’m still trying to get over it. But I’m not going to stop now just because of what happened with him. I don’t know why he did what he did, or why he said what he said, but I’m not going to cower away just because of a man. I’ve never been that girl, and I’m not going to start being that girl now. He made his decision, but he’s not making my decision for me.”

  Her eyes trailed up as she looked over my shoulder, as though she caught someone else’s stare. I wasn’t even sure she heard half of what I said just then. She was distracted by someone behind me. She looked back to me with a small smile and nodded.

 

‹ Prev