Finding Laila: Some Changes are Necessary

by T. K. Rapp

  “Come eat,” he says as he piles a plate with pasta and sauce. “She made this for you.”

  “For me?” I ask, taken aback. “Why?”

  “I told her you were coming over.”

  “That’s interesting, since I didn’t know that I was.”

  “I was hoping.” He grins and sets the plate on the table before repeating his actions again. “It was something I had planned for a week now, but I wasn’t sure if I could get you here after today.”

  He sets his plate down and takes a seat, but when I don’t follow, he points to the empty chair next to him.

  “If you don’t eat, she’s gonna be pissed at me.”

  “I’m not eating until you tell me what happened today.” I sit down and cross my arms over my chest. I pull out my phone and send a message to my mom to let her know where I am while I wait for Haden to fess up.

  “It started out with the same thing I always get from those two: ever since we started dating, they make it a point to comment on what you’re wearing, what you should wear, or other things I’d rather not talk about.”

  “Haden, you and I both know that it’s not just them, so why today?”

  “Because today they took it too far.”

  “How?”

  “I was waiting by your locker like I usually do, but when you didn’t show up and Davis walked by, he made some comment about how you wanted a real man. I said something about him being an insecure jerk and he said he’d show you what you were missing.”

  “And?”

  “I got in his face and told him that if he came near you, I’d make sure it was the last thing he did. He pushed me, but before I could do anything, Braxton stepped in and pulled Davis away. Of course, that’s when Jason got in on it and started in on the whole gay thing.”

  He gets up and pulls the bread out of the oven and brings a couple of slices to the table, but eating is the last thing on my mind at the moment.

  “It was pretty brutal,” he admits. “I felt bad for Brax. I mean, these guys have been his friends and teammates for a long time, but they just turned on him. Started calling him a fag, drawing attention by saying he was making passes at them—it was crazy. So I pushed Jason and told him to back off—though I’m sure my language was a lot more R-rated.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I huff.

  “Yeah, well, Brax didn’t let him off the hook—he started telling them he knew they were just pissed because more girls were interested in him than either of them, even though he’s gay. Next thing I know, someone throws a punch to my face, I’m throwing ’em back, and there’s a crowd watching the whole damn thing.”

  He finishes his story and shoves a mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth, as if it’s the final word on the subject, but I’ve yet to start eating.

  “It’s not like either of you to draw attention to yourselves, let alone be in a fight. It’s just words, Haden, and it’s just me—you should’ve let it go.”

  “Like you did? ‘Just’ you—funny you say it like you’re nothing. But you are—you’re special.”

  “I was trying to—”

  “Stand up for us?” he finishes. “Yeah, and that’s what we were doing—standing up for you.”

  “Touché,” I concede, finally loading my fork up with pasta. “But I don’t need it, you know I can take care of myself.”

  “And so can we. Jeez, Lai, we’re not little kids who need someone to mother us. We’re your best friends—I’m your boyfriend. What kind of guy does that make me? To just sit by and let people talk bad about my girl and my best friend?”

  “We’re kind of a strange group, aren’t we?” I ask, thinking of the lengths we’ve all gone through to look after the others.

  “That’s what friends do,” he answers easily.

  We eat our dinner in silence, but every once in a while he looks at me as if he’s trying to read my mind. The spaghetti is so good; it’s always been my favorite dish that Ms. Searle makes. When we were kids, she’d make enough to feed all five of us, and when we’d finished, we would head to the living room to watch some TV. I smile at the memory and Haden takes my plate to the sink when he sees that it’s empty. I watch in fascination at the guy he’s turned into. I know his dad would be proud of him and everything he’s done to help out his mom.

  He finishes cleaning up and puts the leftovers in the refrigerator, and turns to face me when he’s done. A smile spreads across his face as he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest in some sort of unspoken victory. Despite my efforts not to, I return his smile and willingly get to my feet when he pulls me up from my seat and hugs me.

  “TV?” he asks before giving me a sweet kiss.

  “Okay,” I answer and walk to the living room to plant myself on my usual spot on the middle of their couch.

  He sits to my right and pulls me so I lean against him while he channel surfs with one hand and holds my hand with his other. It’s a comfortable quiet as he stops along the way to see if anything good is on, but it’s no use—the shows are lame.

  “I should probably head home,” I tell him, even though I don’t want to go.

  “Ten more minutes,” he states, but I know it’s a question so I nod.

  “So, what are your plans for April eighteenth?” he asks, catching me off guard.

  “I don’t have my calendar with me, so I’m not sure. I mean it’s like three months away, why?”

  I know what that date is. It’s been circled on my calendar since the beginning of the year, but I don’t want him to know it’s the one event I’ve allowed myself to ‘girl’ over since I was eight.

  “I’m pretty sure you know what that date is, but I’ll play along,” he laughs. “Laila Jude, if you don’t have any plans, I was wondering if maybe you’d be my date to prom.”

  I sit up and look at him with a smile plastered to my face. “I thought it was a given,” I laugh, though I’m so excited he didn’t just take it for granted.

  “Hey, I don’t assume anything,” he says, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “I hear it’s a bit of a big deal.”

  “You’re a bit of a big deal,” I turn to face him, “and of course I’ll go with you.”

  “Yeah?” He smiles back. “Good, because if you said no, I was going to see if Caarly wanted to go.”

  “You’re so funny,” I smirk and narrow my eyes at him. “I’m the only person willing to put up with your moods, so you’re stuck with me as your only choice.”

  “That works for me.” He brings his lips to mine but doesn’t kiss me. I feel his smile against my lips and fight my own. “You’ve always been my only choice,” he finishes before finally crashing his lips to mine.

  I’m not so stupid to believe I’m the only one who sees him as the sexy, brooding artist—everyone sees it. But for whatever reason, Haden sees only me, and I’ll take it.

  Chapter 23 ~ Finding Arguments

  A few weeks ago when I mentioned to Ree that Haden asked me to prom, she told me that Bailey was upset because Joey still hadn’t asked her. She never mentioned it to me, but I know how much Joey likes her so it’s only a matter of time. But sitting here with him working on our project for Tredway, I can’t help my curiosity.

  Focus, Lai.

  The government assignment places Joey and I on opposite sides of the assisted suicide debate. Odd thing is, we both have the same stance on pretty much everything, including this issue, so we had to decide who was going to research the ideas for and against. Mr. Tredway gave the class a list of topics to choose from and we have to present our case in front of the class with statistics and strong arguments. Since neither of us wanted to be ‘for’ assisted suicide, we flipped a coin and I ended up being the ‘for’ debater. We have yet to do a run-through of the debate because we want the arguments to be spontaneous—so this could really end up backfiring on us.

  I stare at the words on my paper and rapidly tap my pen to find the words to sell it, but I’m still distracted.


  “Stop,” Joey finally says, and puts his hand over mine to keep the pencil from moving.

  “Sorry,” I sigh and sit back in my chair.

  “Are you having that hard of a time writing your argument?”

  “To much going on in here,” I admit and tap my head.

  “Well you better get moving, we have to present tomorrow,” he reminds me and I nod.

  “I know, sorry. It’s just I’m stressing about the meet—it’s two days away and I need to get some laps in.”

  “Why? You’ll do fine,” he says with more confidence than I have. “You always place in the top four.”

  “Yeah, four, but that’s not good enough for state. If I advance, I get to compete in Austin. What’s an hour and half away?”

  “Baylor,” he answers. “You’re planning to go check it out again?”

  “My parents took me during football season and of course I want to go there. I mean, I sent my application in already, but I want to see it again.”

  “So the only reason you want to compete in the state meet is so that maybe you can go check out the campus again?” he laughs.

  “Maybe,” I shrug. “Not sure if I can convince Mom and Dad to take the detour though—it’s not really on the way back home to Houston or anything like that.”

  “What are you plans for Saturday, besides the meet?”

  “Not sure. Haden said he has something planned but won’t tell me what. How ’bout you?”

  “I’m taking Bailey out tomorrow.”

  “Did you ask her to prom, yet?”

  Joey stops writing notes in his spiral and looks at me with a strange smirk.

  “She’s my girlfriend, of course she’s going with me.”

  “So you asked her already?”

  “Why do I need to ask her?”

  I lean forward and throw my arms on the table so I can bury my head, but then look up at him and shake my head in disbelief.

  “Joey Parker the third, please tell me you are joking!”

  “What? Am I supposed to ask her?”

  I turn in my seat to face him and grab his shoulders so I can drive home my point. “Yes. You are supposed to ask her, you can’t just assume anything. For all she knows, you don’t want to go, so what happens when someone hot like Galen Erikson asks her—she’s not sure you want to go. What if she accepts?”

  His face grows pale as my words sink in and he starts to pack up his things. “I gotta go,” he announces, zipping up his bag and tossing the last of his soda into the trashcan. “I’ll call you later tonight to see what progress you made.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” I wave as he leaves my kitchen.

  “Later, Mrs. Nixon,” he says to Mom before shutting the door.

  “Bye,” she says slowly and then walks into the room and looks at me. “What was that about?”

  “He still hasn’t asked Bailey to the prom.”

  “Are you serious? It’s only six weeks away. Does he not want to go with her?”

  “He’s a guy, Mom, he just assumed that she was going with him.”

  She laughs and sets her things on the counter before turning to face me. I know what’s coming up, but I’m going to let her do the talking.

  “When are we going shopping for your dress? How about after your meet on Saturday?”

  “I have a date with Haden,” I answer.

  “Any plans for after school tomorrow?”

  “Depends on what you have planned.”

  “All right, tomorrow after school, I’ll pick you up so we can shop.”

  “Quick and painless, okay? I don’t want to try on more than, like, five dresses,” I warn. I loathe trying on clothes.

  “Then it’s a date.” She winks and heads upstairs.

  * * *

  Last night, I stayed up until almost midnight finishing my half of the government project. I had already finished my research before Joey came over yesterday, but organizing everything to make a strong argument proved to be tough. Normally, I like to run my papers by my parents, but they were already asleep when I finished so I guess we’ll see how it goes today.

  “He asked me.” Bailey runs to my locker and leans against it. “I have a date to prom.”

  “Who?” I question and she cocks her head to the side and looks straight-faced.

  “Who do you think?”

  “I really hope you say Joey,” I scoff.

  “Of course,” she says. “Are you ready for your presentation?”

  “Not at all,” I laugh and pull the necessary items from my locker before shutting it. “But here I go anyway.”

  “Good luck.” She pats my arm and walks off.

  Mr. Tredway steps aside and allows Joey and I to set up for our debate as our classmates file in. I know the basis of Joey’s argument because it’s much like my own personal feelings, so I researched everything that contradicts my opinion—I just hope it works. This debate counts for twenty-five percent of our grade.

  “I heard you finally asked her,” I say to Joey and watch him swallow hard from embarrassment.

  “Yeah, I had no idea she’d been waiting. I’m glad you said something because I’m pretty sure she was asked by a couple of guys, but she didn’t come right out and say so.”

  “I’m just glad you actually listened to me, because we both know how much you hate being wrong,” I laugh.

  The bell rings and the teacher takes a seat at Joey’s desk and signals for us to begin.

  We worked on the introduction together and have our lines to deliver but soon we begin the debate. Each of us takes turns presenting our side of the argument. Since Joey is in opposition of assisted suicides, he goes first, providing a compelling argument against—stating that it’s immoral and that it equates to murder and that misinformation leads people to make decisions that have a lasting effect.

  He finishes his debate and the class applauds his argument until I begin to speak.

  I start my defense of assisted suicide by listing statistics and places where the option is available to people. I point out that many support the ability to choose ending one’s life because they feel it gives them the opportunity to die with dignity. As I continue stating more information and statistics about assisted suicide, I can tell that Joey is impressed with what I have come up with.

  I conclude with a solid defense of assisted suicide and feel as if I’ve won my debate. I did what the assignment required, and for that I’m pleased.

  Mr. Tredway stands up and walks to the front of the room to ask the class if there are any questions. One of the more popular girls in school, Fallon, raises her hand and the portly teacher calls on her.

  “Have you ever considered assisted suicide?” she asks of me with a smirk. The class tries to hide their laughter, but they fail.

  “That’s enough, Fallon—”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Tredway, I’d like to answer that question. No. I have never considered assisted suicide. While I don’t personally believe it as an option that should be available, there are places all over the world where it is allowed—even here in the United States. I mean, how would you like it if someone told you that you weren’t allowed to get that nose job you tell everyone you want? Personally, I’d like to see you able to get a personality change, but that’s just my opinion.” I finish and flash a fake smile at her.

  Mr. Tredway’s jaw is agape and the rest of the class laughs at my response while Fallon continues to scowl. Joey does his best to keep a straight face, but I can tell it’s getting tougher for him to do that.

  “Any—are there any other—questions?” the teacher manages but the bell sounds and everyone files out in a hurry.

  “Damn, Lai,” Joey scoffs as he gathers his papers together. “Guess you got her to shut up for once. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that quiet before.”

  “What can I say? I have that effect on people.” I shove my papers into my folder and wave to a stunned Mr. Tredway on the way out.

  “What
happened in there?” Haden asks when I walk out of the room. “People were saying that it was an interesting class.”

  “You know Laila,” Joey answers. “Never passes up an opportunity to put someone in their place.” He walks off to meet with Bailey and leaves me alone with Haden.

  “Do you want to come with me to the gallery after school? I told Stefon that I’d help him set up for his next exhibit.”

  “I can’t. I have plans.” I exhale and start to walk toward the cafeteria.

  “Wait, plans? With who?” He jogs to my side and wraps an arm around my waist before kissing my cheek. “Better not cancel on our date tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to swim a few laps at the pool for the meet tomorrow and then Mom is picking me up so we can go shopping.”

  “You hate shopping,” he quips.

  “Trust me, I know I do. But she wants to help me pick a prom dress. Have you gotten your tux yet?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what you want me to wear.”

  “Black,” I state simply.

  “Black? That’s it?”

  “You like black. You live in black. I’m not going to tell you to wear something that isn’t you.”

  “You’re no help,” he laughs. “Do I at least get to see your dress?”

  “I’ll send you a picture, but you don’t get to see it on me until prom night.”

  “See what?” Ree asks from behind us.

  Haden walks ahead of me into the cafeteria and I stay back with Ree.

  “He wants to see my prom dress.”

  “Did you get it already? I wanna see!”

  “I’m going with my mom today after swim. Did you get yours?”

  “My dad gave me his credit card and told me to get whatever I want,” she says with a sad smile. “Sucks not having a mom around.”

  “You’re welcome to come with us,” I offer, but she shakes her head.

  “I have a feeling this is something you two need to do alone, but how ’bout if you help me next week?”

  “Count me in,” I agree.

  “What’s going on?” Bailey asks when we sit at the table with everyone.