Claire's Song

by Ashley King

  The next morning we ride to school together, that comfortable silence descending upon us again. Ryder's face looks a little better, but it still looks like he got in a fight with a cat. My parents were more than willing to excuse him from school for the rest of the week, but he refused.

  "I didn't hear the phone ring last night," he breaks the wordless barrier.

  I turn and look at him, then cut my eyes back to the road. Snakes of unease slither around my heart and clench. All I can do is shake my head.

  "Do they call every night, Claire?" He asks, his voice stern. He's turned his body towards me. I park in the last row at school and then face him.

  "They call a few times a week. So what?" I shrug as I reach behind him and grab my bag from the backseat.

  His hand wraps around mine, his touch warm and perfectly capable of knocking me off my feet in the best way. "So what? Claire, I listened to you cry yourself to sleep. I heard you break stuff in your room." He focuses on his hands and pauses before speaking again, "I don't ever want to go through that again. I don't want anyone hurting you."

  I roll my eyes, moodiness has beset me, and I move from his gentle grasp. "You just shouldn't care, then. I've been dealing with this for nearly a year, okay? It's not your problem, especially when you have your own to worry about."

  Ryder's hands clench and unclench on his knee and the muscle in his jaw works overtime. "The biggest problem I have right now, Claire, is that I do care." My heart swells at his words and I struggle to keep my face completely devoid of emotion. He continues, "I care if people are screwing with you. I told you I'd take care of it and I meant it. You should never have to put up with that, especially when you're struggling to get over everything that happened."

  A sigh escapes from my lips as I let my head fall back onto the seat. "I'm wondering if I'll ever get over it. It's like a scar that never heals. It keeps getting torn open and I keep bleeding myself dry, but for what?"

  There's a heavy pause and then Ryder clears his throat. He twists so his entire body is facing me as he pushes his hair back from his eyes. What I see there in that grey oblivion is life, life pulsing and radiating.

  "Claire, you do it because that's life. That's living. When you stop feeling, you've died. You're better than all of them put together, okay? I knew you were different from the first time I saw you all tucked under Jamie's arm. I wanted to know you then and I still want to know you now. The way fate's given me that chance is crazy, but I'll take it. You matter, all right?"

  You matter.

  Those two words have the power to completely undo me. Isn't that what everyone wants to hear? That they're not going through this in vain, that they're not alone, that someone out there loves them? Because the moment Jamie popped all those pills in his mouth, I felt unloved. I felt like I wasn't enough, that I didn't matter, that I would never matter. Heartless people like Lindy just fuel the fire and screw up my mind.

  The bell rings, it's shrill din loud and clear through the bustling parking lot and I look at Ryder. He's rubbing his chin, watching me carefully.

  "Thank you," I reach a hand out and stroke his cheek. His eyes widen at the touch and I feel my heart do crazy flips. A blush starts creeping across my cheeks, but for once I don't care. I wanted to touch him, so I did. No over thinking. "You matter, too. You ready?" I smirk and give his arm a gentle pat.

  "As ready as I'll ever be," Ryder answers, sadness permeating those eyes, snuffing out the spark that was there only moments ago. I want to scream "No!" or ask why he's so sad, but that didn't turn out so well last time, so I let it ride. At least for now.

  We step through the doors of the school and I can feel all eyes boring holes into our skin. Bodies are crushed together, some at lockers, some bustling through the hall trying to get to class. No matter what their destination, they look at us. Nearly every look is one of disgust or apathy. Whispers dance around us as we walk, people talking about Ryder's face, how I'm probably to blame. Jamie's name resurfaces and it feels like I've been punched in the gut. Dizziness settles over me and nothing's straight, nothing's right. I stumble to the left, my hand desperately searching for a locker, for something to steady me. Ryder's there, his arms wrap around me effortlessly as he settles me against the empty space on the locker. One arm is wrapped around me, his fingers burning tattoos into my waist. His other hand is above my head and he leans forward, resting his head there, and our faces are so close that if I were to move our lips would touch. My breathing is still frantic, made even more so by Ryder's closeness. My eyes dart to his face, a serious look spread across his chiseled features. I can still hear the whispers filtering into my ears, anger spreading through my bloodstream. Ryder moves in closer until all I see is him, all I hear is him, my entire world is Ryder.

  "Claire," he whispers, his voice husky.

  "Yeah?" I look up at him, his eyes boring into mine. Fuses are popping in my brain, my knees are threatening to buckle and I can't think straight.

  "Focus on me. Look at me. It's okay. I'm here." He runs a hand through my hair, as we stand pressed up against the lockers. As I move my hands to his shoulders, I feel the rigid tension in them, the way his body is coiled up tight like a cat ready to pounce. His eyes flutter at my touch.

  "Ryder," I breathe. The rest of the world has faded away. I can barely remember my problems, why I stumbled, why we're standing in this intimate position. All I know is I want Ryder's arms to steady me, that I want to know what it would feel like to kiss his lips, to kiss each and every scratch on his handsome face. His shaggy brown hair is hanging in his eyes, so I reach up and push it back, meeting his burning gaze.

  "Claire, you're going to ruin me," he says with the slightest smile, desire lilting his voice.

  I want to say something, to tell him that this, this is perfect and this is all I ever want. I'm about to open my mouth to say something stupid when a familiar singsong voice calls out.

  "Oh, Ryder. Did you drug her too? Don't you know she's the Black Widow? If you needed someone to show you some attention, I would suggest searching elsewhere," Lindy pops the bubble surrounding us. Ryder leans his forehead forward and it touches mine. His hair tickles my eyes, my nose.

  "I told you I would take care of it," he whispers. He makes sure I'm settled against the locker and then he whirls on Lindy.

  "You are sick, you know that? She's not the reason Jamie died and you know that. I know why you have it out for me. I know why you spread those sick rumors about me, the ones you started because your friends caught us making out?"

  Everyone freezes in the hallway.

  "But the thing is, I had to be the one who was drugged to ever want to touch you, you piece of trash. I've told you once to leave Claire alone and you just don't get it." Ryder moves closer to Lindy, her eyes widening.

  "Hey man, back off," Darren Samuels, a huge football player, moves through the crowd. "All because you can't get any except for a damaged loner," he looks at me and sneers. Ryder turns to me and is about to face Darren when the guy throws a sucker punch that knocks him sideways.

  "Ryder!" I scream. I move forward into the fight, both guys swinging. I get right in the middle, not caring what happens, just that I have to protect Ryder. Darren lands a punch in my side and pain explodes behind my eyes.

  "You seriously just hit a girl, Darren? Are you an idiot?" Mrs. Weathersby yells. Two male teachers pull the guys apart and she's in the face of the football player. I'm motionless on the floor, my ribs feeling like they're crumbling. It feels like I fell off a swing set and landed on my chest.

  "Let me get to her!" Ryder yells as he fights frantically. Finally Mrs. Weathersby nods. They let Ryder go and he's kneeling beside me in an instant, his hands on the edge of my shirt.

  "Where did he hit you?" His eyes are wild, crazed. I've never seen him look so feral.

  "Here," I lift my shirt up so he can see. It's already red with some swelling.

  Ryder's eyes are huge and they grow even larger when he takes in
my inflamed skin. He stands up frantically, "You son of a bitch! You hit her!" He points at Darren. Darren just shrugs like it's no water off his back. Ryder tries to go at him again, but I call after him.

  "Ryder, please. Stay with me," I sit up against the lockers gingerly. Those are the words that do it. The teachers take Darren away while I hear Mrs. Weathersby vouch that Darren and Lindy started it. Lindy has disappeared all too easily.

  "Claire, we need to get you to the nurse," she kneels down next to me and helps me up. Ryder's right there, his arms around me, supporting most of my weight.

  "Jesus, I keep screwing everything up. It's my fault that he hit you. I'm sorry," Ryder whispers.

  "You're not screwing up anything, Ry." He turns and faces me at the sound of the nickname. A small grin lights up his face.

  "I like that," he says and then Mrs. Weathersby interrupts the moment.

  "So now that I've vouched that Darren started the fight, can you tell me what it was about?" She looks at me and then at Ryder.

  At first I don't want to tell her about Lindy, about the Black Widow thing, the phone calls, none of it. But she looks at me earnestly and I wonder if it would be smart to tell her. Then again, at our school they call it snitching and I would probably be in for more torture as a result. I simply shake my head, saving it for another day.

  Mrs. Weathersby doesn't buy it. Once she deposits Ryder and me at the nurse's station, she gives us both stern looks. "You've got to tell me one of these days. Whatever it is, I could probably help." And then she's gone.

  RYDER

  Lindy pushed me over the edge. She was trying to get at Claire and me at the same time. She's changed up her tactics since the old ones didn't work. The whole school screwed up this time, with all of their stupid whispering, believing everything Lindy says. Watching Claire stumble into the lockers, her face ghostly pale, it felt like someone stabbed me in the heart. I was an idiot to get so close to her, to shield her like that, but I want to protect her and as much as I hate to admit it, she intoxicates me. The way she looks at me makes me feel alive. It makes me want to forget everything else, let it all fall away.

  Then Darren started his crap and Claire got punched in the ribs. Anger still rages on in my mind, making everything fuzzy. I can barely see straight, but I have to keep it in check for her. I really would've beaten him to a bloody pulp if she hadn't asked me to come back to her.

  Everything I touch is ruined. My family, now Claire. It just gives me more reasons to let her go, but as she grips my hand and leans on my shoulder; I know there's no way that's going to happen. It's too late.

  The nurse says Claire's fine, just bruised. I let out a sigh of relief and rub my eyes. Claire gives the woman her mother's phone number and she notifies her of what happened. I can hear her mom asking if we're both all right and if she needs to come get us.

  "No. We've missed enough school already. I'll be fine," Claire waves it off. I look at her with my mouth wide open. Who actually cares about how much school they’ve missed?

  Finally they get off the phone and we head to class. Claire is still walking kind of funny. Her grip on my arm gets tighter the farther we walk.

  "You sure you’re good?" I ask.

  She just nods. "I'm fine." There's a pause and then she stops. "Thank you for taking up for me today, Ryder. It really means a lot to me, but….but I don't want it to make things harder for you or for you to get in trouble because of me, okay?"

  I just shrug, because I can't make any promises. To Claire's credit, she lets it go with a small smile and keeps her tiny hand wrapped around mine.

  I reluctantly drop her off at her class.

  "I'll see you around," she smiles at me and I offer her a wave.

  "I'll find you at lunch," I say before turning around and heading down the opposite hall.

  When I walk into the classroom late, nobody says a word. The next two classes are torture and I'm barely able to listen to anything anyone's saying. All I can think about is Claire. When the lunch bell rings I'm out faster than I've ever been. The cafeteria is crowded with students streaming in both side doors, but I can spot Claire's jagged black hair anywhere. She's sitting on a bench outside the cafeteria, her eyes scanning the incoming crowd. Is she actually looking for me? A traitorous spark of hope ignites as I keep my eyes on her.

  After fighting through the rest of the students, our gazes connect and her perfect little eyes light up. She smiles and waves as she stands up. It's too fast, I can tell it from the way she winces and sucks in a breath.

  "That hurts like a mother…" she says through clenched teeth.

  "Stay here. I'll be right back." I can't let her go in the cafeteria. The lines would kill her and what if someone bumped into her? So instead I go through and grab us both a sack lunch.

  Part of me wants to look for Lindy, to cuss her out, but I don't. Claire's words from earlier filter through my head and I keep walking until I find her right where I left her.

  "To the quad?" I ask, offering my arm out to her. She nods and we make our way outside to the exact spot we found ourselves that first time we worked on our Lit class project. Claire sits down, trying to mask the pain she's in, and I hand her the paper bag.

  "Thanks," she smiles.

  A thought strikes me and I say it before I think it through and realize how random it sounds. "You got plans Friday?"

  Claire freezes mid bite, the apple still touching her lips. "Why?"

  I shrug, "We’ve had a heck of a week and I think we need to get out, to do something."

  She watches me like I'm playing a joke on her and she's waiting for the punch line. Finally she speaks, "I don't really go out a lot anymore." Her gaze drop to the grass.

  "Neither do I, but we can change that. Come on, Claire. I heard about a low key concert that's less than thirty minutes away from here."

  Claire perks up like one of those meerkats and it's freaking adorable. I hate myself for noticing and for turning into a lovesick pansy. "Really? That might be fun."

  "Then it's settled."

  She nods. "When are you going to play your own concert?" Claire asks after we've eaten in silence.

  My stomach sinks because I know what that concert means. "Um, not quite sure. Whenever I get someone interested, I guess." The doubt creeps in. Do I want someone to become interested?

  Claire taps her finger on her chin, her gaze moving to the trees alongside the bricks. "I propose a trade," she finally speaks, her eyes shining and her lips turned up in an impish grin. She pauses for dramatic effect and then she slowly rocks onto her knees, a small wince crossing her face before she places her hands in front of her on the plush grass. "I'll agree to hang out with you Friday if you'll play for me when we come back."

  Playing guitar has always been a private thing for me, a way to release the aggression and other crap that bothers me, what the cutting doesn't help. No one has ever really cared to hear me play. I'm tempted to tell her no, but then as I look at her I know I want to spend Friday night with her more than anything.

  "Fine. It's a deal," I manage, trying to avoid her stare. The sun starts shining brighter, breaking through the clouds, the cool fall air unaffected.

  Claire scoots closer to me and throws her arms around my neck. I can hear her gasp from the injury, but she still tightens her grasp on me. "I think it'll be fun."

  I let my hands wander into her hair and the smell of vanilla envelops me. This girl will either be the death of me or be the very reason I breathe.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CLAIRE

  Wednesday continued on without any more drama, as did the rest of the week. One major reason for that was the fact that Lindy was missing in action. It's amazing how people act without their ringleader. On top of that, Mrs. Weathersby had seen to it that Darren was suspended from school and kicked off the football team.

  I stand at my mirror to finish my makeup while Walk the Moon's "Anna Sun" is blaring as loud as my speaker can go. I can't help but dance
around and sing the lyrics at the top of my lungs even if it slows down progress. My hair looks decent, my makeup is low key, as usual, and I'm wearing a gray oversized sweater, leggings, with my black combat boots. It says, "Hey, this isn't a date, but I'm still cute." I don't want to overdo it, but to be honest, if it weren't for this song, I'd be overanalyzing everything, worrying too much.

  As the chorus kicks in, I hop around the room, the pain in my ribs finally subsided. I sing to Jamie's picture and for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel sad, but I know the feeling is fleeting. I try to imagine Jamie laughing at me, to prolong the momentary happiness. After all, Jamie always said I was feisty. I dance and sing until the song is over, then realize it's time to go.

  "That's a great song," Ryder says from the staircase.

  I freeze in my tracks as I take in the sight of him. He's wearing a plaid button up with the sleeves rolled, the most perfect fitting jeans I've ever seen, and his black Converses. His hair is brushed back from his eyes and he looks amazing. My heart does a flip when he smiles at me and I don't miss the fact that he totally checks me out- I mean full body scan.

  "And your rendition was equally excellent," he laughs.

  "Hey," I joke as I swat at the back of his head.

  "I'm just saying. I could hear it all the way in my room," Ryder continues as we go out the door and to his car. I offered to drive mine, but he just looked wounded so I relented. I pray that it will get us there without breaking down on the side of the road in the middle of the night.

  Smashing Pumpkins “Today” almost bursts our eardrums when Ryder cranks up the car. He looks at me sheepishly as he turns it down, “Sorry.”