I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  “You’re the one who was leaving me notes? How is that even possible?”

  “I started chatting with a kid who goes to your school in an online gaming forum. He said he’d be happy to help me win my girl back. Don’t you see the lengths I’ve gone through to get you back?”

  “Who?”

  “His name’s Warren.”

  Smelly Warren? God, this is getting creepy.

  “Like I’ve told you a thousand times before. I. Am. Not. Interested. I never will be again. You had your chance and you blew it. I deserve better.”

  “You certainly didn’t act like you weren’t interested at Labyrinth,” he says in a steely voice.

  “What the hell are you even talking about?” Avery’s eyes narrow. “How did you know I was at Labyrinth?”

  “Because I was dancing with you. Right behind you. With your body pressed against mine as you let loose.”

  “That was you?” She looks physically repulsed.

  “It was. So don’t tell me that we aren’t still good for each other.”

  “Go to hell, Derrick. Go straight to hell and don’t ever come back.” She grabs Fletcher’s arm. His fists are clenched so hard that his knuckles are white and the muscle in his jaw is twitching back and forth. Based on that look, Derrick has about thirty seconds to leave.

  Now it feels like ice water is pumping through my veins.

  “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

  He turns and storms down the driveway into the open door of the limo.

  “Are you okay?” Ray asks, rubbing Avery’s arm.

  “I’m fine, I promise. But I really don’t know what I ever saw in that asshole,” she laughs. “And Fletcher, I promise I can explain what he’s talking about. It’s really nothing like it sounds.”

  “Babe, you don’t have to explain anything. That guy is delusional and that’s all there is to it. Now let’s get outta here so I can show off my hot girlfriend.”

  “My feet hurt so bad,” Rachel groans. “The next time Avery tries to talk me into wearing three-inch heels, smack me please.”

  “Aww, poor baby,” I say, twisting her around in the booth to face me. It’s the same one we sat in the first day she met me to go over our Economics project. That seems like forever ago. I take her foot into my lap and press my fingertips into the arch. “You know, your feet probably wouldn’t hurt so much if you weren’t trying to show off on the dance floor in front of Vivien Tanner,” I tease. I hope the playfulness of my voice covers up the growing sense of dread I’m feeling. All I wanna do is get Ray back to the hotel, more for her safety than for any of the activities I have planned.

  “And miss out on rubbing it in her face that we’re still together? No way. The foot pain is well worth the scowl she wore all night. Besides, you didn’t seem to mind being pressed up against me for four hours.” She flicks an eyebrow at me in a mock challenge to prove her wrong.

  “I don’t regret one second of it.” My knuckles knead the pad of her foot, and she sighs in relief.

  “I’ve officially died and gone to heaven,” she moans. “If you need me, I’ll be the one in a massage-induced coma at the Sweet Pea.” I carefully lay her foot down and pick up the other one to give it the same treatment. “I just really wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

  “Me t—”

  “Can I have your attention please?” Mandy shouts from the other side of the room. “We’ll announce the scholarship raffle winner in three minutes. Or however long it takes me to find where I put the basket of tickets.” She spins around, checking the tables near her. “Avery, will you go in my office and see if I left it there?”

  Avery walks off the makeshift dance floor with Fletcher in tow, headed to the back of the diner. I reach for the ticket in my jacket pocket when pain shoots from the center of my chest outward to my fingers and toes.

  “AAAHH!” I shout. He’s here. It’s happening. It all makes sense. I have to get Rachel out of here.

  Now.

  She jerks forward and runs her hands over my face, her eyebrows drawn together in a tight line. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? You’re seriously freaking me out.”

  “Rachel, RUN!” I can barely get the words out before I’m shoving her out of the booth. We make it about five feet across the empty diner floor when the door jingles and Derrick storms in.

  With a gun.

  “Where is Avery?” he bellows, his eyes darting wildly around the room.

  Screams echo across the diner. The people who were standing by the stage duck behind two rows of empty booths. Mandy and another group of students dive behind the main counter. Most of the girls are crying, and one behind me says, “I don’t want to die on prom night!”

  Ray and I are caught in the middle of the floor with nothing to protect us. I carefully step in front of her as I try to keep Derrick calm, which is hard to do considering he’s got a gun and my insides feel like they’re liquefying.

  “She’s not here, dude. She didn’t feel good and she left. We’re all getting ready to leave. Why don’t you lower the gun and I can try to get her on the phone for you?”

  “That’s bullshit!” he shouts, waving the gun in the air. “That fucker’s car is outside, so I know she’s still here. AVERY! It’s time you come out and be with the one you’re supposed to be with.”

  Derrick is too far away for me to tackle, but too close for me to be able to run at without being shot. Still, I have to do something. I reach behind me with my left hand and grab ahold of Rachel’s left arm. We’re about seven steps from the main counter. If I can get her even halfway there, she can dive for the counter when I lunge toward Derrick. I just pray that Fletcher and Avery are calling the police in the back.

  Rachel and I take one small step to the left. As if he can hear my thoughts, Derrick aims the gun directly at me.

  “Don’t even. You and the whore behind you have been filling Avery’s head full of lies. Telling her she should be with that douchecanoe instead of me. Telling her she should throw her flowers and notes away. Telling her she’s better off without me.” His hysteria climbs higher and higher, but it’s getting harder to hear him. The pain that burst in my chest when he walked in is now pulsing through every inch of my body. “Let’s see how you like living without the girl you love.” Blood rushes into my ears when he takes a step to his left and points the barrel at Rachel. I dive to cover her half a second before Derrick fires his gun.

  The bullet pierces me right below my chest.

  Of course, the fucker’s aim would be spot on.

  The sounds of everyone screaming almost blocks out the sound of the second gunshot.

  Almost.

  Derrick falls to the ground and I fall back onto Rachel. She lays me on the black and white checkered floor and rips my shirt open, all good signs that she wasn’t hit too. She shrieks and presses her palm over the bullet hole. It should probably hurt, but oddly, it doesn’t. I guess that’s the adrenaline?

  “JAMES! Please stay with me. Stay here.” She lifts her head toward Derrick. “He shot himself. He’s gone. You’re safe. You kept me safe. I can’t believe you did that. I’m gonna kick your ass when you get better.”

  “Ray,” I whisper. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Tears roll down her cheeks and mix with the blood pooling on my stomach. I didn’t expect everything to feel so warm, but it feels kinda good, so I close my eyes.

  I see Gran’s face.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, genuinely confused. As far as I know my psychic abilities never included seeing dead people.

  “I’m here to take you home.”

  “I am home. Right here, with Rachel.” I look down at her, still clutching my body.

  “Looks like you’re moving again, son.” A sad look crosses Gran’s face for the briefest of moments. “Don’t worry. I promise this will be the last time.”

  He’s gonna be okay.

  He’s gonna be okay.

  He’s gonna be
okay.

  Maybe if I repeat it enough, it’ll be true. The power of positive thinking, right?

  “James, the EMTs are here. You stay with me,” I cry as they move me out of the way. Avery lifts me up and hugs me when they start working on him. Fletcher is on James’ phone talking to his mom, relaying all the info we have. Which isn’t much.

  “I’m so sorry, Rachel. This is all my fault. I had no idea he’d do something like this,” she sobs into my chest.

  “No one did, Avery. This is not your fault. This is Derrick’s fault.” I squeeze her and watch helplessly as the EMTs intubate James. I only catch half of what they’re saying, and understand even less than that.

  “Pulse is weak and thready…”

  “Alert the trauma team…”

  “Forty-five caliber…”

  “Call for LifeFlight…”

  They bring in a stretcher and load James onto it. Sensing that this is my last chance to see him before we get to the hospital, I rush over when they get him belted in.

  “You hear that, James? You’re going on a helicopter. That’s the last thing on your bucket list. So tomorrow we’re gonna think of more things to add.” I reach for his hand and squeeze it, trying to transfer all of my strength to him. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

  “Excuse me ma’am, we have to go,” one EMT says. I step aside and watch as they run out the door to the helicopter waiting in the field across the street.

  “He’s gonna be okay, Avery,” I say, gripping her arm.

  “He’s gonna be okay,” she repeats.

  “Are you ready for your first day?” Avery asks, entering my new office. It’s just outside the gymnasium and still smells like fresh paint. Dad worked with the developers that built the new Glenn Farms community. As best as I can tell from the before and after aerials, Tennyson Elementary School is situated right where their house was.

  I take a deep breath and look around the room. My UNC diploma hangs proudly above my desk in between two framed newspaper articles.

  “Yup, I’m ready. It’s not exactly the way I planned on becoming a Tennyson, but I feel good.”

  “He’d be so proud of you,” Avery says quietly. “This is your dream, and you did it.” She crosses the room and hugs me, which is getting harder to do these days. Her belly is huge. Only, don’t ever tell her that. She gets mean.

  “Thanks, Beef. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’m thirty-eight weeks pregnant,” she laughs. “Sammy is so excited she can hardly stand it. Although yesterday she asked where babies came from and wasn’t happy with the generic answers we’ve been giving her so far, so that was an interesting conversation.”

  I think back to the months after the shooting and the dark place Avery slipped into. She blamed herself for James’ death and pushed everyone away, including me and Fletcher. Thank God we’re stubborn. She eventually found a good counselor and worked things out with Fletcher. They got married a year and a half ago, around the same time she changed her career path. Now she designs clothes as part of Thrive + Blossom, an organization that supports victims of domestic violence. All of her models are survivors, and many of them started working there too.

  “James would be proud of you too. I know I am,” I say, rubbing her belly. “And I can’t wait to meet this little guy. Have y’all decided on a name yet?”

  “Last night, finally. It was Fletcher’s idea, and I can’t think of a more perfect name. In two weeks, you’ll meet your godson, Henry James Strickland.”

  My eyes instantly fill with tears. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for honoring him,” I whisper before clearing my throat. The first year at UNC was tough. Especially after I discovered that James had been accepted and would have been there with me. I missed him with such an intensity that some days it was hard to breathe. I felt like I had a boulder on my chest that wouldn’t budge. Eventually I started finding my happy. Little things along the way would happen like hearing a song from James’ YouTube channel when I was missing him more than normal or some random item would appear completely out of the blue, like a guitar pic on the sidewalk. It was like James was right there with me, reminding me to be happy. I owed him that much. I also started volunteering at an animal shelter and even adopted a mangy looking puppy that stole my heart. She’s feisty and sweet. I named her Pearl.

  “Now you better go home and prop your feet up before Fletcher gets mad at me for keeping you here so long. And I’ll be on the lookout for Sammy later this morning. I promised her she could be my helper during P.E.”

  “Which means we’ll hear all about Aunt Rachel’s gym class during dinner,” she laughs, wiping her own eyes.

  I walk Avery to the door and give her one last hug, then turn back to the row of photos I put up last week in preparation for the first day of school. The first picture is of Mom, Dad, and me at my college graduation. I’m wearing the UNC flag Dad draped around my shoulders. He’s smiling even bigger than I am. This year for Father’s Day, I got him a “Proud Dad of a Tarheel Grad” T-shirt. I think he wore it for a week straight.

  The next picture is of me and Sunny the last time she stopped in town. Grandpa died about a year after James did, and Sunny dealt with the loss as best as she knew how—she bought an RV and she and Lazarus started driving. I get a postcard every few months from a new location, talking about the odd jobs she’s done and the people she’s met.

  Next is a picture of me at my first guitar lesson. Sunny gave me Lucy, James’ guitar, a couple of years ago. Learning to play has been so much fun, and now I’ll be able to incorporate music into my P.E. classes.

  The next picture is from the photo shoot James and I had before he moved. Amy delivered the prints to my house a week after James’ funeral. It was the first time I saw the sparkler word he wrote to describe me.

  Everything.

  That day, I realized our love was a lot like the sparklers we used in our photos—instant, quick burning, and over way too soon. Last year, I was on a fourteen-mile run wondering if I’d ever find someone who made me feel the way James did. I mean, how can a person have a love like that twice in their life?

  That’s when I heard Gran’s voice.

  “Quit looking at what’s happening right now and see the bigger picture.”

  Two months later, I met Adam outside the campus library. And by met, I mean I tripped on the stairs and crashed into him, sending us down the last several steps in a tangle of knees and elbows.

  I was bruised for weeks.

  He joked that I knocked him off his feet, and we’ve been a couple ever since. It was strange at first, making room for another man in my heart, but Adam was more than understanding as I processed my emotions. With the help of counseling, I’ve learned that no one will ever make me feel the way James did. He was my first love, and that can’t ever be duplicated.

  I step in front of the last picture on the wall and smile. Adam is on his knee holding a small blue box, his face beaming with love and excitement. My hands are covering most of my face, but there’s a smile underneath, I promise. Our wedding was small. Our parents and ten of our closest friends traveled to St. Croix to watch us get married on the beach. It’s been four months, and Avery has almost forgiven me for wearing a tank top and cutoff shorts. Even though we got married in paradise, Adam insisted we go on a honeymoon. He kept our location a surprise, and Avery helped him pack for what I would need. When we got to the airport and I discovered the honeymoon he had planned was to Fiji, I crumbled into a weeping mess of tears. I told Adam about James’ prediction five years ago that the man of my dreams would take me to Fiji.

  James was right—the man of my dreams did take me there. I’d like to believe he had a hand in placing Adam in my life. I rub the infinity tattoo on the inside of my left wrist, thinking about how the meaning has changed over the years. I got it to symbolize my unending love for James, but now I know that it represents the love my heart carries for two wonderful men—each part just as great as the other. />
  Where one ends, the other begins.

  Without either side, I’d be incomplete.

  To anyone who’s made it to the back of the book, thank you for taking a chance on a newbie. (And I hope we’re still friends.) There are a million books out there, and I’m humbled that you chose to spend some time with James and Rachel. Thank you for being the biggest part of making my dream come true.

  Mom, thanks for always reminding me that you loved this book because of the writing, and not because you’re my mom. I’m still working on believing you. (But you’re still the best mom I’ve ever had.)

  To my husband, your support has never wavered. That means the world to me. I’m sorry for all the times I yelled that I didn’t want you to read over my shoulder. I still love you. And you can be my friend. To my kids, whether you know it or not, you inspired me every day to keep going. Some days writing was hard, but I kept picturing your faces when I could say the words “I’m done.” I love you!

  Sam George and Mandy Grifka, the best road trip buddies EVAH, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express the gratitude I have for each of you. Who knew all of our DYKing would turn into a lifelong friendship? I love the shit outta both of y’all. Thank you for encouraging me and believing in this book. I can’t wait to get Chased with you! 1 2 3 | 4 3 2

  To the authors I’ve met and befriended along the way (and by befriended, I mean you let me fangirl all over you and still answered my messages), thank you for being awesome. Stacy Kestwick, Kim Holden, Erin Noelle, CM Foss, BN Toler, Kathryn Andrews, and Ashley Christin, I appreciate your words of advice and encouragement more than I’ll ever be able to say. Fist bumps all around.

  (And speaking of Kim Holden, the book Gran mentioned in Chapter 15 is real. It’s called Bright Side and you should add it to the top of your TBR list right now, along with Gus. He’s my number one book boyfriend, but I’m willing to share.)