by RH Tucker
“You finally gonna tell me what happened yesterday?”
I take a long breath, staring aimlessly at the metal locker in front of me. I feel like the lowest piece of scum at the bottom of a five-gallon bucket filled with monkey crap. Yeah, it's that bad. So, now, not only did I hurt a girl I care about, but I also scorned another who is now spreading rumors about me. And not the kind of rumors I've grown fond of.
“Dude, I screwed up.”
“How? I thought you were all psyched to meet that girl.”
“I was, but …” I let out a deep breath. “Damn it. Okay, you can’t tell anyone this.”
“Carter, come on.” He gives me a look asking if I’m serious.
“I know, I know. But I’m just saying. Even if you had let it slip before that I liked a girl I didn’t know, when I tell you this, it’s going to freaking blow your mind. It blew my mind and then I screwed it all up.”
“Okay.” He nods with a concerned look.
“The girl? Emerald22? It’s Emma Sanchez.”
His face drops, stunned. “Are you shitting me?”
“No. And she hates my guts. Now with this stupid rumor out there, I have no clue what I’m going to do.”
“Wait, hold up. Why does she hate you?”
“Because of what everyone thinks. What I’ve portrayed for the last two years of my life. That I’m some basketball-cool-kid that can get any girl he wants. She didn’t even consider the possibility that I was there to meet her. She wanted to blow me off. She kept trying to get rid of me because she thinks I’m some Don Juan jock that’s hooked up with every girl in school.”
He chuckles.
“Matt, it’s not funny. All those stupid rumors about me hooking up with girls, and that stupid homecoming bathroom one? She probably thinks I’m a walking STI.”
The silence sits in the air for a moment. “What are you gonna do?”
“I have no clue.”
Getting home that night, my mom left a note that she was working late, leaving twenty dollars for me to order a pizza. After placing the call, I sit at the dining room table, staring at my phone. I turn it on, stare at the last text she sent, then turn it off. The pizza place said it’d be forty-five minutes until it’s delivered and when the bell rings I realize just how long I’ve been staring at my phone, trying to decide what to do.
Grabbing a slice and taking a bite, I sit down and turn my phone back on. Scrolling through our last set of messages, I see our #SecretSunday. I need to talk to her. Tell her how sorry I am.
BigBaller27: I royally screwed up. I don’t blame you if you hate me :(
I sit there, staring at my phone, unsure if she’ll even reply. Finishing my slice, I grab a second piece and just wait for my phone to go off. After the third slice, I figure she’s probably so mad and hurt she’ll never talk to me again. Then my phone chirps.
Emerald22: No biggie
No biggie? She's blowing me off. I did screw everything up.
BigBaller27: It might not have been for you, but it was for me. I’m soooo sorry. Seriously. I’m an asshole. I AM SO SO SORRY.
Emerald22: If it was such a big deal for you, y didn’t u show?
Emerald22: Why have u ignored me for 2 days?
The pathetic ball of shame reappears in my throat. "Because I'm an idiot who you can't even stand to be around", I feel like writing. But I can't just come out and tell her who I am now. She's learned who I am. The real me. And I like that she knows me. I like that I know her. I have to figure out how to fix this and if I tell her who I am, there's no way in hell she'll ever speak to me again, in real life or through text.
BigBaller27: I wish I could explain, but I can’t. I’d like to, someday, but right now, I can’t
Emerald22: Do u have a gf? Is that what this is about?
BigBaller27: No, I swear. I…
I have to put it out there.
BigBaller27: I was hoping that was gonna be you
Emerald22: Ha! You’ve got a weird way of trying to show that
Emerald22: And that’s a super pissed off “Ha!” btw, not some cutesy sarcasm thing
Even though she’s still furious, just the way she explains how mad she is makes me smile. I have no idea if I can fix this, but it gives me a little spark of hope.
BigBaller27: I get it
Emerald22: Whatever
It’s time to take a shot.
BigBaller27: I seriously don't blame u for hating me. And if u never want me to talk to u again, I'll accept that. And u don't have to forgive me because I'm not asking for that. I'm not even sure I deserve your forgiveness. But please, if u want to keep talking, I'm here.
I hit the send button, squeezing my eyes shut, and wait. No reply. I stare at my phone until the screen turns off and then turn it back on. My message is still there, but nothing from her. Not even a ‘typing’ prompt.
Getting up from the table, I put the pizza box in the fridge and walked back over, turning my phone on. Still nothing. An hour goes by, and I have no idea if she's ever going to talk to me again. I finish up whatever homework I have, take a shower, and just lay in bed, constantly looking at my phone. Just waiting and wishing for it to go off.
Just before eleven o’clock, as I start to doze off, it chirps.
Emerald22: Ok
I let out a long sigh of relief. It’s a short answer, nothing more. But she’s keeping the door open. I just need an opening to try and fix this. To try and prove to her that I’m the guy she knows through messaging and not the douchebag she thinks she knows in real life. I have to do it because as I've been lying in bed wishing for that text message to come, I've realized a truth. I'm starting to fall for this girl.
Chapter 20
Emma
I should’ve done a whole lot more yelling when he texted me last night. At least, as much yelling as can be translated through text. And I am furious at him. But when I received that text, telling me how sorry he was, it seemed genuine. It seemed like he knew he messed up and he was ashamed. Why can't he just tell me why he didn't show up?
My mind races the entire night, trying to figure him out. I scroll through hundreds of messages between us, and he never came off as shallow. Or flakey. He seems genuine. So maybe something terrible happened, that caused him not to show up. Something that, even though we shared so much with each another, he doesn't feel like he can tell me.
I debate whether or not to even keep talking to him. My first thought is to text Jen, but I know exactly what she’ll say. ‘Hell. No.’ And she’s right. Why should I give this guy, who I don’t know, a second chance? But the thing is, I do know him. At least, I feel like I do. So, responding with a simple ‘Ok’ before I go to bed, seems like the best way to go.
When I wake up, I figure if I’m going to keep talking to him, I won’t bother telling Jen and the others. Why open that can of worms? Besides, who knows how this next round of texting will go. Eventually, I might think it isn't worth it and stop altogether. Remembering how everyone reacted, I can’t stop myself from sending a text.
Emerald22: Btw, my friends hate u
I frown at the screen as it pops up. It might be a little too harsh. No. He bailed on me. He acted like I didn’t matter. The text is justified.
I finish getting ready for school but never get a reply. By the time Jen and I arrive on campus, I think maybe the text was a little too much, but there's no way I can take it back now. Debating with myself on if I should have even sent it, my phone goes off.
BigBaller27: That’s because they’re good friends :/
Ugh, why can’t he try to play it off or be smug about it? He has to try and be all understanding.
The rest of the day goes by without a message between us. I'm not exactly sure what to say. It feels like a fight, but I don't even know who he is. I don't even know if I want to keep talking to him, but something in the back of my mind says I should. I hate that part of my mind. I want to forget him. Cast him aside, delete all his text messages, and never
think of him again. But, I can't. Everything we've talked about, everything we've told each other, then he just ditches me. Something doesn't add up, and I want to know what it is.
At lunch, Jen asks if he’s texted me, so I tell her he did. That he apologized profusely and said he couldn’t tell me what happened, but that he was sorry. Both her and Lana scoff at his apology and tell me not to text him anymore. I just nod.
When I get to history class, I remember about Carter and how I told him off. As I walk in, he's already sitting down. His eyes glance up to meet mine but quickly dart back to his desk. There's a tiny piece of me that wants to apologize for how I acted, but then I remember what Lana said. Who knows if the rumor's true or not, but that just proves my point.
After history, I finally start feeling more at ease. Getting to art, I walk over to my easel and pull out my giant ‘Heartbreak' piece. Mixing some acrylics, I put the base colors down and begin to add purple rain with a dark cloud. I have an idea of what I'm going for, but unlike my other two pieces, which are straightforward—even for one being an abstract piece—I'm just feeling my way through this one. Letting my emotions guide the brush.
Ms. Hales walks up behind me as I add more gray to a dark red cloud. “This is interesting. I love the background texture you’ve worked up there.”
“Thanks.” I give a half smile while my hand keeps moving.
“What inspired this piece?”
I look at her, blinking. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I was looking forward to what you were going to do with the abstract piece. You've nearly finished it, right?" I nod. "This one though … this is powerful. Do you have a name for it?"
I stare at her for a moment, unsure what to say. I know what I’m calling it, but I've only named it in my head. What would she say if I told her what it's called?
“Um, kinda.”
She eyes me carefully, then looks back at the painting. “Well, I’m very interested to see where you take it.”
That's why I like Ms. Hales. She's an artist herself, so she can sense when other artists are a little intimidated by something, and she doesn't push us. The next time she asks though, hopefully, I'll be ready to tell her the name.
Chapter 21
Carter
I cringe the moment I read Emma's text. Of course, her friends hate me. If someone did that to one of my friends, I'd hate them too. But I force myself to look on the bright side. She texted me in the morning. Even if it was to tell me her friends hated me, she still thought of me. Sure, not so much how I wanted to be thought of by her, but I’ll take what I can get.
I keep racking my brain the entire day, trying to think of how I'm going to win her over. Even if she doesn't hate Texting Me, she dislikes him thoroughly. And me—Carter—well that's clear. She absolutely does hate me. To make this work I have to win her over on both fronts, but I have to make sure Carter is winning her over more.
Seeing her walk into history, I still don't know what I'm going to do. She looks over, and I avert my eyes so that I won't be ‘checking her out' again. She takes her seat, and I just sit there, trying to think of something. I spend the entire class half paying attention and the other half thinking what I can do. I know I can't just walk up to her. I did that, and it was horrible. I have to find an opening.
When the bell rings, I start to put my book in my backpack and see her leave class. Walking out, she heads to the east wing, so I motion to Matt that I'll catch up with him and follow her from a distance. I know, creepy and a little stalkerish, but an idea is starting to form. She's going to the art building, so she probably has art for her last class. If that's the case, I can ‘accidentally' run into her after school. I've already seen her sketchbook, maybe I can comment on that? There's only one way to find out.
When the bell rings at the end of class, I tell Matt to cover for me at practice in case I'm late and rush to the other end of campus, still unsure if this is a good idea or not. I'm not even sure if I'm going to time it right, but I'm hoping since it's her last class, and she likes art, it will take her a little more time than usual to leave.
Turning a corner, I watch as a few students leave the room. Gritting my teeth, I stay back for a minute, hoping I haven't already missed her. Then she walks out, and a bucket of nerves dumps into my stomach. Letting out a deep huff, I walk quickly to catch up with her.
“Hey, Emma,” I try to say, but it comes out as a cough.
“Carter?”
“Uh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to shake the jitters, but failing miserably.
“Hey.” She stares at me, waiting for me to reply.
“Hey. Um …” I look around for something—anything—to talk about, completely forgetting my idea of mentioning her sketchbook. “So, um …”
“You okay?” She lets out a chortle.
“Yeah.”
She looks around and then back at me. “Did you need something or …?”
“Oh, right.” I snort at myself. Yeah, this is going great. “Sorry. Yeah, I just wanted to apologize. For the other day.”
“What?”
“You know, for disturbing you, or whatever. I seemed to piss you off pretty bad, so, I’m sorry. I hope your friend made it better.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did I mention that when she thinks I stood her up?
She frowns, looking at the ground. “He didn’t show up.”
“Oh.”
She shoots me an annoyed look. “Don’t say it like that.”
“No.” I shake my head, waving my hands. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to say it … however it sounded. Sorry.” I suddenly have a new idea, but I have to tread lightly. “That’s an ass move.”
“Hey, I said—”
“No, I know. Sorry.” I hold up my hands.
She still likes him. Me. Okay, that’s a good sign. Now I just have to start changing the tracks to me me. I point at her arm, where I see spots of red and purple paint. “What’s this?”
“Uh, paint.”
“No, yeah. Right.” I chuckle, trying not to sound too oblivious. “Of course, I know that’s what it is. So, you just got out of art?”
“That’s why there’s paint on me, Carter.”
“Right, yeah.” Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought. “You know, you’re really good.”
“What?” She gives me a cautious leer.
“I saw your sketchbook, at lunch that day. It’s good.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Okay, no sarcastic comment. I’ll take that as a win. I have to get out of here quickly before I screw it up and she starts hating me again. “Okay, well, I gotta get to practice. But, yeah, I just wanted to apologize.”
"Okay," she says, but it comes out low like she doesn't understand what's happening.
I give a half-grin and turn to leave, feeling like I finally did something right. Sure, I have a long way to go, but this is the first step. Now, I just can’t screw it up along the way.
Chapter 22
Emma
The entire day goes by without any other texts. After school, and after the weird interaction with Carter, I almost decide to text Baller but then think better of it. He screwed this up. If he wants to keep talking, then he’s going to have to make things better. But as nightfall comes around, I’m even second guessing that, still not receiving any texts.
When I get up the next day, I frown at my phone. But I surprise myself, realizing the frown isn’t me being sad or even mad. I’m over it. Who does this guy think he is to make a big scene, well, at least a big digital scene, and go on and on about being sorry and still wanting to talk, but then I don’t hear from him? Getting ready for school, I push it to the back of my mind.
Later on, I surprise myself again. Lunch starts and Jen walks up next to me, nudging my elbow.
“Hey.” She smiles.
“Hey.”
“Any more stupid apologies from you-know-who?”
“No.” I shake my head, actually feeling
okay.
“Good.”
“Hey.” Lana nods to us, as we sit down.
"Those glasses are so cute," Jen says.
“Thanks, I got them last night. Well, Micah got them for me, after we walked around the mall after the movie.”
“Where is he?” I ask, looking around.
“He’ll be here. He’s finishing up a painting in art, for the show.”
I nod and remember my paintings. I don't feel like painting Heartbreak today. Maybe I'll work on the waterfall piece or finish the abstract painting.
“Oh, did you guys hear?” Lana leans forward, lowering her voice. “Sarah Donovan is hooking up with Jeremy McCormick.”
“Ew.” Jen wrinkles her nose. “I guess she’s like a basketball groupie, or what?”
“Hey, wait a second,” I say. “Isn’t he friends with Carter?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care,” Lana answers. “And Jeremy is worse than Carter.”
“No, what about what you said?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “About the crabs thing?”
“It’s not true,” Micah says, appearing behind us.
“How do you know?” Lana eyes him suspiciously.
"Taylor." He looks back at her like she should've known already. "I was talking to him in English this morning. I guess Carter found about the rumor and went ballistic after practice." We all nod, listening to him. "Supposedly, and again, this is the rumor mill, but I guess she wanted to hook up again, at the bonfire. Well, Carter turned her down, and she got so pissed she decided to start the rumor."
“God, what a bitch,” Jen says, before biting down on a chip. I look at her, a little confused she would be on Carter’s side. “What? I mean, yeah, he’s a manwhore, but for someone to spread rumors about you just because they won’t hook up with you?”