I would have never imagined that day that anything would come of it, let alone this.
Sitting here in the woods and waiting for Hunter to show up for our secret date, I can’t help smiling as I imagine his response when he gets here and I liken it to Gale and Katniss sneaking out to hunt in the woods.
I know he’ll be entertained. I’m sure he’ll call me a dork. He might even weaken my knees and call me Catnip again before he reaches down and takes my hand.
I guess I never know exactly what Hunter will do, but man, I can’t wait to find out.
Chapter Eight
IT WASN’T SUPPOSED to rain tonight. At least, I didn’t think it was. But here I sit on the footbridge with my feet hanging over the edge, watching raindrops pelt the water below.
I’m drenched. When the rain first started, I was worried about dumb stuff—it was going to soak my hair and cause my mascara to run down my face like it does in the movies. I shrugged my coat off and held it over my head for a while to try to protect my appearance, but eventually I gave up.
That was a half hour ago. My arms got tired. My heart did, too.
Hunter never showed up.
I put my coat back on, no longer caring if the rain ruined my hair or made my makeup run. I don’t know how many times I can text him without appearing crazy. I went with three. One text for every half hour I’ve spent sitting on this bridge like an idiot, waiting for a guy that wasn’t on his way.
I thought about walking to his house a couple times. It’s not like it’s far. The first time I told myself to be patient. If I walked to his house, what if he came another way and got to the bridge while I was gone? What if his phone had died so he couldn’t text me to let me know he was running late?
The second time I was more stubborn. I’m not walking to his house to remind him he was supposed to go on a date with me. If he got busy and forgot, then screw him. If it’s more than that… I don’t even know.
As if the weather is keeping up with my mood, the rain starts to fall harder. It’s coming down so hard it stings a little when it hits my face, so I finally push myself up off the ground, fix my purse strap on my shoulder, and turn around.
Even though there’s no reason he would be, no reason he would stand there without saying anything and torture me, my foolish heart hopes he’ll be standing there, just as wet as I am, looking back at me.
He’s not.
As light as I felt earlier, now it feels like I’m carrying the weight of the world as I trudge through the muddy path back to my road.
I can’t believe he didn’t show up. I don’t understand.
Somewhere along the walk, the rain and my tears start to mix together. I’m thankful for the bad weather when I open my front door and step inside, sopping wet. I’m a mess, but at least Mom won’t be able to tell I’ve been crying.
The TV is on and Mom is sitting on the couch, enjoying our night in without me. Tears threaten to fall again, but I hold them back as she turns around to greet me.
Her eyes widen in sudden horror at the sight of me. “Oh my God, Riley! Honey, why didn’t you call me? It’s a downpour out there. You shouldn’t have walked home in this.”
I shrug off my coat, holding it over the mat just inside the door so it doesn’t drip on the hardwood floor. “I didn’t realize how bad it was, then once I started walking I figured I was already wet, no point turning back.”
Shooting up off the couch and zooming around it, she chides, “You’ll catch your death. What are you thinking?”
She races to the hall closet and comes back with towels. Immediately, she drapes one over my shoulders and starts patting me dry with the other one. Emotion wells up inside me. I know we were only supposed to sit on the couch and watch stupid movies, but I’d have preferred that to sitting alone on a bridge in the rain and having my heart dinged up.
Maybe this is what I get for lying and sneaking around and doing something I knew I wasn’t allowed to do.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I look up at her and offer a wobbly, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Her eyes widen in alarm, then soften with concern. “Oh, honey.” She wraps her arms around me, even though I’m soaking wet. “You don’t have to be sorry, silly girl, I just don’t want you to get sick.”
I know she doesn’t know what I’m sorry for, but I do and I need a hug anyway, so I wrap my arms around her and give her a big, wet hug. “Now I’m also sorry for getting you all wet.”
“Come here, you,” she says, tugging me close and settling my head on her shoulder.
“I’m really, really sorry.”
She holds onto me for a while, murmuring comforting nonsense words while I settle down. Once I’m calm and no longer an emotional mess, she tells me to go change into something dry while she microwaves some popcorn.
I feel worse about lying to her to sneak out with Hunter, but a lot better at the prospect of salvaging what’s left of our bad movie night. I towel off in the bathroom and strip off my sopping wet clothes, then I change into a pair of blue flannel pajama shorts and a white tank top. I take my hair out of the rat’s nest pony tail it turned into and brush out the knots, then I wash my face, but the mascara doesn’t want to come all the way off.
I panic, realizing my mom probably noticed the mascara when I came in. Maybe she didn’t since I was an emotional mess. Maybe she was distracted.
I wash my face twice until I finally get all the mascara off, then when my face is fresh and bare, I put my hair back up and go back to the living room for movie night.
Since I got Mom all wet, she had to change too. She’s sitting on the couch in a pink t-shirt with leopard print pajama pants. She perks up when she sees me come in.
“Ready?”
I flop down on the couch beside her and reach over to grab a handful of popcorn. Since I was planning to eat at the theater with Hunter, I’m famished. “I was born ready,” I tell her.
Mom smiles, grabs the remote control, and starts the movie back over at the beginning so I don’t miss anything.
_______________
When our bad movie mini-marathon comes to an end, it’s time to go to bed. Ordinarily Mom wouldn’t accompany to my room since I’m not a little kid anymore, but tonight she does. She hangs out in the doorway as I check my backpack to make sure everything I need for school tomorrow is inside. The sight of my backpack makes me feel a bit sad.
Hunter never texted me back. Despite feeling wretched for doing it, I texted him one more time after I got home to let him know I gave up waiting on him and went home, but if he’s read a single one of my texts, I certainly can’t tell.
My stomach aches when I think about it. I dread going to bed because I know I won’t fall right to sleep. I’ll lie there torturing myself with my thoughts. They started seeping in even while we watched the movie, but alone in the dark, trying to fall asleep? The torture is inevitable.
I sigh to myself and zip my backpack up, then I turn around to look at my mom. She’s still in the doorway, a funny little smile on her face—almost sad—as she stares at my backpack.
“You know what I was thinking earlier?” she asks, her gaze still fixed on my school bag.
“What?”
She shifts her gaze to me, putting a little more effort into her smile, but it looks no less sad. “If you were going to Sara’s house to study for your science test… why didn’t you take any of your school books?”
My heart sinks so low, it practically drops out of my body. “What?”
Arms crossed, she shrugs. “Doesn’t really make sense, does it? Plus, why would you put on makeup just to study with Sara?”
Oh, crap.
She knows.
Of course she knows.
I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I thought I could get away with this.
Swallowing past the knot of shame and sadness blocking my throat, I avert my gaze downward. “I messed up. I’m sorry.”
“Hunter?” she asks knowingly.
I nod my head, feeling a sting behind my eyes, but I fight it. “He told me he wanted to go see a movie, but I knew you’d say no because it would sound too much like a date. I didn’t want to lie to you,” I add, looking up at her. “I really didn’t. I hated it.”
I expect her to get mad—I kinda wish she’d get mad, because it’s so much worse that she looks sad instead. After a minute, she says, “Man. I wasn’t ready for this to start yet.”
I shake my head, looking down again. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it. He didn’t show up.”
Now she frowns at me. “What?”
“We were supposed to meet up and walk to the movie theater together, but he… he didn’t come. I literally spent the whole time waiting and getting rained on.” My voice wobbles toward the end as I begin to relive the disappointment and embarrassment in my head.
Mom gasps, her sadness turning to anger now, and she rushes into my room to give me a hug. “Oh, honey. Your first date stood you up?”
“I don’t know why,” I say, hugging her back. “I mean, I really thought he liked me. I know I’m not the type of girl he usually hangs out with, but…”
“You are incredible, and anyone who doesn’t agree can fight me,” she states.
I crack a smile, squeezing her a little tighter. “I’m just sad. I’ll get over it.”
She sighs, rubbing my back. “You should have told me. We could’ve talked instead of watching terrible movies.”
“I didn’t want you to know. I felt so stupid, especially after we’ve fought over him. And it really doesn’t make sense. Maybe there’s some explanation. Maybe he got in trouble and his mom grounded him or something. Maybe she took his phone so he couldn’t text me and let me know he wasn’t coming. There could be a reasonable excuse…”
Mom grabs my shoulders and pulls me back, grimacing. “Or… honey… he could just be a dick. You know my ‘this kid’s a dick’ senses have been going off since you met him. I know it’s more hurtful, but it might be time to consider that maybe I’m right about him.”
I swallow, knowing she might be right, but desperately wanting her to be wrong.
Especially because the only scenario I can conjure where she’s right is a really mean one, and it makes me feel really stupid.
In the darkest moments as I sat there on that stupid bridge and waited for him, as I sat on the couch afterward and tried to focus on the movie but my thoughts drifted to what could explain why Hunter would do this to me, a darker idea occurred to me.
What if I’m seeing the side of him I’ve heard about, but considered myself safe from? What if Hunter has been playing me all along? What if he was making it seem like he liked me, luring me in and making me like him, just so he could humiliate me?
What if he does like Valerie, and they thought it would be funny to make an absolute fool out of me? I never thought Valerie hated me, but she could take issue with my standing by Sara after she socially dismissed her. I don’t know.
It would so mean and so unnecessary, but how many movies have been made where the jackass popular jock plays a trick on the nerdy girl he never noticed before? Maybe it does happen. Maybe he was playing with my heart out of cruelty and not actual interest. Maybe all of our interactions leading up to this moment were just build-up. He needed to get me to agree to go out with him; he needed to soften me up and convince me to break all my own rules to sneak out and see him, then he left me hanging, and he and Valerie are holed up somewhere together laughing about it right now.
In that case, yes, Mom would be right.
I desperately hope she’s wrong.
I expect her to ground me, even though I’ve never been grounded before.
I guess she thinks I’ve suffered enough, because rather than punish me, she gives me more hugs and support before finally going to bed.
I turn out the lights and climb into my bed. My heart aches, and the more time passes without so much as a text from Hunter, the more my imagination works to convince me I got played.
Hunter didn’t know me that day we met on the bridge. We’ve gone to the same school for ages, but we were strangers. Maybe when he started all this he didn’t feel bad about toying with my emotions because it was what Valerie wanted, but now that he’s actually gotten to know me… maybe he’s conflicted?
Does it matter if he is, though? If everything has been a lie up to now, then we’re still strangers, and we’re better off that way. I don’t want to know someone who would do something like this to someone for no reason other than sick amusement.
His own mother thinks he’s a bully. Maybe I’m the fool for thinking he’s not.
Chapter Nine
I’M NOT ASLEEP when my room suddenly brightens. I look over at my nightstand where I plugged my cell phone in to charge. It’s all lit up and I can see a notification on the screen, but I can’t tell what it says.
I swallow, reaching for it and tilting the screen so I can read it. My heart falls when I see Hunter’s name.
His message reads simply, “Are you awake?”
Are you serious?
I don’t send anything back for a minute. A long minute—it feels like forever that I stare at the phone, unsure what to do.
Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I unplug my charger and hold my phone up in front of my face. “You stood me up,” I send back.
“I know,” he answers, causing my heart to fall even more with the admission. “I’m sorry,” he adds.
“Why did you do it?” I demand.
“Is your mom awake?” he sends back, instead of answering.
“I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. I’m not sneaking out to see you again.”
I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. It takes a while, but I finally realize one isn’t coming. I lay the phone down on my chest for a few minutes, telling myself he’s not going to answer, but secretly hoping I’m wrong and my phone will buzz.
Eventually, I give up for real. I reach over and plug my phone back in, then I curl up on my side and hug my pillow. My mind is even more preoccupied now, but I try to clear my thoughts so I can get some sleep.
I’m just about to drift off when I hear the tapping on my window. At first I think it’s the weather. The rain has stopped, but it’s still windy. I’ve been hearing the gusts of wind hitting the house, so it’s not impossible a tree branch could be causing the noise.
I hear the knock again. It sounds decidedly like knuckles rapping glass, so I sit up and take a look.
My heart stalls at the sight of a human-shaped figure standing outside my window. The panic is just a knee-jerk reaction—I know who it is. As soon as my instinctive first response recedes, anger swells up inside me. I whip back my blankets and climb off the bed, going over to my window so I can open it and give Hunter Maxwell a piece of my mind.
I unlock the window and push it up, mean mugging him through the glass the whole time.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I tell him as soon as I get the window open.
“I know,” he says. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
Ignoring me, he grabs onto the windowsill and starts to climb in anyway.
“Excuse me. I said—” The rest of my words get lodged in my throat as he easily climbs through my window and turns to face me.
My eyes are already adjusted to the dark since I’ve been lying here trying to fall asleep for thirty million years, and standing right here in front of my window, there’s enough moonlight streaming in that I get a good look at him.
“Oh my god, Hunter, what happened?” I ask, dropping my attitude and reaching up tentatively to touch his face while I frantically look him over and realize he’s hurt. His lip is split open and swollen. His eye is starting to swell, and there’s a gash on his head frighteningly close to his temple.
“Got in a fight with the asshole,” he grumbles, letting me touch his face even though it might hurt. I keep my touch light, trying not to cause him more
discomfort.
“Stay right here,” I tell him, pointing to the edge of my bed as I make my way to the door. I slip out into the dark hall, checking to make sure Mom didn’t fall asleep on the couch. Seeing the coast is clear, I walk as quietly as I can into the kitchen. After the incident with the bag of corn, I bought a real cold compress to stash in the freezer just in case it ever happened again.
Of course, I hoped it wouldn’t.
I grab a washcloth from the hall closet and wet it with warm water in the bathroom sink, then I go back to my bedroom, my stomach in knots. Hunter is still sitting on the edge of my bed in the dark. I feel terrible for being so mad at him now.
I curl up one of my legs and sit on it, leaning forward and silently cleaning his head wound with the washcloth. I am more than a little alarmed when I pull it away and there’s a bloodstain.
“Hunter… I think maybe you need to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he says, surlier than I’ve heard him before.
“You might need stitches. I’m afraid to turn the light on, I don’t know if my mom’s asleep or not, and if she sees the light on, she’ll definitely come in.”
“I’m fine,” he says, gently pushing my hand away, but still not looking at me. “I just—you were mad at me and I needed to explain why I didn’t show up tonight. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Dennis was in one of his fucking moods and he and my mom started fighting. He put hands on her so I stepped in and… the situation escalated.”
“Where’s your mom? Is she safe?”
Hunter nods, his jaw locking. “Yeah. Seems they bonded over the sheer terror they both felt when he smashed my head against the sink so hard I lost consciousness. Not enough terror to call an ambulance, apparently, but…”
I can’t even breathe. I have no idea what to say. I’m physically ill imagining the scene he just described, but the terror of knowing his mom didn’t even call for help…
Bully Me: Class of 2020 Page 39