The Pull of Destiny

by Hotcheri

  This isn’t the time or place for golf jokes, Celsi. Handle your business!

  “There’s a limit to how many times you can say sorry to one person. You crossed that limit with me a long time ago.”

  “CiCi-.”

  I shook my head before he could continue, my stomach tied into knots at the mention of that pet name. I used to think it was adorable. Now it just sounded hollow.

  “Don’t. Don’t call me that. And just leave me alone.”

  “Not till you hear me out. Please. Just listen.”

  Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I groaned exasperatedly. “You don’t get it, Luke. I don’t want to hear your half-baked stories! I just want to play the piano and forget I live in a world populated by serial jerks. And in case you missed it, I’m talking about you.”

  Eyes widening, Luke bit his lip as he fidgeted uncomfortably. “You really are pissed.”

  Finally he gets it!

  “Yes I am! You used me to piss off your dad! All this time I thought our “friendship” meant something to you, but it was all a front!”

  Breathing hard, I bent the piano book back and forth in my hand. I wish I had Miss Campbell’s stress ball.

  Luke glanced nervously at the book to make sure I wasn’t about to use it on him, and then spoke. “Just let me explain.”

  “No.” I shook my head, my lips set in a hard line. “It’s over. Our friendship is done.”

  Anyone else would have left the room at that moment, seeing that I wasn’t about to budge, but Luke was just dumber than most people, I guess. He really thought I was just hurt but would be over it in a minute. You don’t know Celsi Sawyer.

  He spread his hands in a supplicating gesture, a contrite look on his face. “CiCi- I mean, Celsi. You have every right in the world to be mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” I muttered. “I just hate you.”

  Luke blinked; utter confusion flicking across his face. He gamely decided to continue. “I know what I did wasn’t clever and I feel terrible, but if you’d only let me explain-.”

  “No.” He was beginning to sound like a broken record and it was getting old. “I know you’re used to getting what you want from all the girls at this school, but count me out from now.” I gave him a seriously filthy look. “You can smile and show off those dimples all you want, but it won’t make me want to listen to anything you feel the need to say.”

  Casually enough, Luke said, “You’re listening now.”

  Time to put this sucker on blast.

  “You listen to me,” I said, putting the poor, battered music book back on the piano and advancing a step closer to Luke, who gave me a wary look. “I poured my heart out telling you about Rhea. I never told anyone about how I felt about what happened to her, not even my aunt! And I tell you and it turns out that pretty much everything you told me was a lie and you’ve just been laughing at me behind my back with your friends! And you think I want to hear you out?”

  I couldn’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes. Every time I got angry, my heart rate sped right up and I got teary. I blame it on genetics. The clearest memory I have of my mom is when a social worker came to take me away and she started screaming profanities at her as I was put in the car. She stood on the porch of the women’s center we were staying in, tears running down her face and she cried and screamed. I was four years old and I stayed in foster care for 2 months until my mom was ‘clean enough’ to ‘reclaim’ me, but every night before I went to sleep, I could still see the tears on her face as she begged the social worker not to take me.

  But I digress. A lot.

  Tugging on his earlobe, Luke said, “Wait-,” but I didn’t let him finish.

  “Let me tell you, it’ll be an icy day in hell before I...”

  My voice died in a strangled croak as Luke put a finger on my lips. He looked down at me, guilt shining in his green eyes. I couldn’t move as he spoke. “I wasn’t laughing behind your back when you told me about Rhea,” he said with such conviction that I almost believed him. Almost. I’m not that gullible, thanks very much. “I would never do that to-.”

  My temporary paralysis broke and I slapped a surprised Luke’s hand away from my face, scurrying back. “Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed.

  “Everything I did, everything I said to you was the truth.” Luke swallowed hard, sighing. “What happened the other day was a huge mistake. You weren’t supposed to hear-.”

  “A mistake? You talk about manipulating me just to get back at your dad and you call that a mistake? Did you take your meds today?”

  A sulky expression slid on Luke’s face. “I haven’t been manipulating you,” he said slowly.

  “Sure. I guess this was all really convenient for you, huh? Find someone to help you out with your stupid list and with pissing off daddy. Regular multitasking.” I shook my head, my nose flaring. “You know what I learned about you when I was stupid enough to think we were friends? That you’re a good liar.”

  “Celsi-.”

  I jutted my chin out. “Just leave me alone. Find someone else to make a fool out of. Don’t talk to me. Hell, don’t even look at me!”

  Luke’s answer was painfully simple. Slumping his shoulders dejectedly, he looked me in the eye and said, “I can’t.”

  Don’t believe him, he’s LYING!

  Icy glare intact, I said, “You should have thought of that before you screwed up so badly,” in a hoity-toity voice.

  All the fight had gone out of Luke and he just stood there staring at me. “What can I do to show you that I’m sorry?” he asked, the guilt evident on his face.

  “Nothing! I don’t care if you’re sorry! You made it very clear how you feel about me, so I’m taking your advice and unsticking to you!” I had had it. Doesn’t he get it? I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want his apologies. I didn’t want to look at him. “So why don’t you just get it through your thick skull that I don’t want anything to do with you and get out!”

  Luke’s lips parted and his eyes widened as he gawked at me. “Oh my God.”

  Adding to my fury was the fact that he looked more turned on than intimidated by my tirade (which had not been the expected outcome) and this just made me seethe.

  A ghost of a grin on his face, Luke saluted me arrogantly. “I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down,” he said and let himself out of the room just as I picked up the discarded music book and threw it in his direction. It hit the door with a loud thunk and I hid my face in my hands, letting out a scream of frustration.

  It was only later that I realized that Luke hadn’t mentioned the list.

  Monday. Science class, Dalton School.

  I suck at arguments. If I know I’m going to have one, I always think of smart, witty things to say, but they fly out of my head when I’m face to face with the person I’m arguing with. And after it’s over, I always come up with the dopest retaliation’s known to mankind.

  Still, at least I was happy knowing I had given Luke a piece of my mind. When he got his head out of the clouds long enough to think hard about everything I said, he would realize that he was persona non grata with me and I really didn’t want anything to do with him. I hope.

  And until Rick tapped my shoulder in the middle of yet another mind-blowingly boring Science class, I actually thought he’d gotten the point. I hadn’t heard from him all weekend, so I had assumed he had given up! And this time I didn’t even have to ask Mr. Non Verbal who the note was for because my name was written neatly on the folded piece of paper.

  Hey you. I like your hair like that. Luke.

  Only an act of divine providence stopped me from reaching up to pat my hair down. I washed it this morning and didn’t have the time to blow-dry it, so it had decided to dry curly. And obviously Luke would notice.

  I stood up, walked to the front of the class, balled the note up and threw it in the garbage. Almost laughing at the shock on Luke’s face, I sat back down in my seat, confident that he wouldn’t have the nerv
e-.

  Tap, tap.

  Okay... so you’re still mad at me, I see. Luke.

  How observant of you.

  I ripped the note up into tiny little shreds and made a nice little pile on my desk. Unfortunately, some people are more persistent than others. See, if I had tried passing someone two notes within the space of three minutes and the said notes got the treatment I had given to Luke’s, I’d give up. Period. So what the hell was his problem? Apart from being stupid, of course.

  Obviously someone’s not into saving the environment. We’re learning about recycling- don’t abuse paper. Luke.

  I’m abusing paper? He’s the one who’s ripping it out of his notebook to write to someone who clearly isn’t interested!

  I guess you’re hell-bent on not talking to me, huh? That hurts. Luke.

  Deal with it. I was feeling proud of myself for staying true to myself and not being a sellout. He could apologize till his voice was hoarse, I wasn’t gonna give an inch.

  A squeak sounded as a chair was pushed back, and before I could blink, black jeans had passed by my desk and settled in the (inconveniently) empty seat in front of me. I raised my eyes, even though my sense of smell was already telling me who had vacated his seat from the back of the class to sit in the spotlight. Luke was wearing another shirt that belonged to Ahmed, which meant he was still staying over at the El Hamed’s. Shazia hadn’t said a thing about that, but after the way I went in on her the day she did, I wasn’t surprised.

  Miss Swanson paused from her texting spree (I swear that lady’s iPhone is glued to her hand) to glare at Luke.

  “I just want to borrow a pencil,” Luke explained cheerfully, his trademark ‘winning’ smile no doubt on his face.

  I scowled down at my book, not taking in anything I was reading. Not from me you don’t.

  Luke waited till Miss Swanson had decided that there was nothing illegal about him changing seats and returned her focus to her phone, and then he twisted in his seat to look at me. His closeness was disconcerting, mainly because he looked so cute. His hair had been trimmed over the weekend and as much as it pained me to admit, he looked hot.

  The first words that came out of his mouth were, “I’m sorry.”

  Predictable.

  “Shut up.”

  My awesome rejoinder of the day. Take that, Luke!

  He leaned in closer. “I really need you to just let me explain,” he whispered. “Please?”

  “No.”

  “I’m a jerk, okay? I admit it.”

  Shaking my hair back, I smirked at him. “I knew that already.”

  He sighed. “And I deserve everything you’re saying to me, but- can you just hear my side of the story before you decide to never talk to me again?” A puppy dog look. “I don’t want you to never talk to me again. That would suck.”

  I glanced to my left and my right. Nobody was looking, which was good. I didn’t feel like people watching me and Luke have a heart to heart in Science class. Giving him a disbelieving look, I said, “Is that supposed to make me feel bad?”

  Luke shook his head, restlessly moving around on the chair. “No, I just- don’t you ever do or say things you don’t mean?” he asked peevishly.

  I gave him a blank, Snooki-esque stare. “Not like that.”

  “Celsi, don’t be like this,” he groaned quietly.

  “I hate repeating myself, so I won’t. I’m checking out now.”

  And with that, I held my Science text book upright, effectively hiding my face. Like that would stop Luke.

  “You’re gonna have to listen to me sometime-,” he grumbled.

  “Luke, the whole class is listening to you! Do you take that much pleasure in being a disruptive influence?”

  I grinned happily behind my book. Miss Swanson had had enough. Thank God for easily annoyed teachers.

  “I was just-,” Luke started, trying to defend himself. But Miss Swanson wasn’t having that.

  “Detention,” she said dourly. And then dropped the bomb. “For both of you.”

  I know she didn’t just give me detention.

  Dropping the book, I exclaimed, “What? But I didn’t do anything!”

  Miss Swanson rolled her eyes, massaging her temples. “It’s too early in the morning for your wide-eyed innocence act, Celsi. I’ll see you both in detention.”

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Luke turned and flashed me a smile that really put me this close to punching his lights out. “See you in detention,” he whispered gleefully, looking like Christmas had arrived two weeks early and he had proof that not only was Santa real, he’d given him a Lamborghini.

  CHAPTER 20

  the reason.

  Luke’s Point of View

  “Let me get this straight.” An obligatory conceited grin twisted Ahmed’s lips and I groaned mutely. It was always something with him wasn’t it? Being friends with such a drama queen was annoying! “You get detention for talking to Celsi Sawyer in class and you’re actually planning on going to detention?” Ahmed gave me a probing look. “What the fuck, Astor?”

  I shrugged as I leaned against the giant pillar by the school entrance. Ahmed was waiting for his ride and I had decided to come tell him that I’d be staying at school for detention. Unfortunately, he wanted to give me a hard time about it.

  “What’s wrong with going to detention?” I asked lazily, examining my nails closely.

  Anything to avoid looking at Ahmed, who was probably falling about laughing at just the thought of me sitting in detention and having Miss Swanson shoot me dirty looks. Hell, I knew I wasn’t looking forward to that, but if he laughed at me one more time...

  Snorting, Ahmed said “The fact that you never go to detention!”

  Oh. Right.

  “I’m on thin ice so I’m trying to play by the rules.”

  My excuse didn’t fool Ahmed. “You were on thin ice last week and you still managed to bail on that detention you got in English.” Ahmed shot me an assessing look that I pretended to ignore as I stepped out of the way of a gaggle of giggling girls. “What’s really going on?”

  I turned my head to look at Ahmed so fast I got a crick in my neck. Ahmed was the loudest, brashest, most indifferent guy I knew, but did I detect a hint of concern in his voice?

  He was staring at the cars maneuvering in the parking lot so I couldn’t make out the expression on his face. But if he really was concerned, maybe this was the right time to tell him about the aneurysm. I needed an ally, especially if CiCi really was determined to never talk to me again. God, I hoped not, but just in case... Could I really trust Ahmed or was he going to be a dick about it?

  Biting my lip nervously, I took a deep breath, my heart thumping erratically as I prepared to take this irreversible step forward. What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe Ahmed wouldn’t overreact. Right now, that’s all I needed- support. I didn’t even care about my list; asking Ahmed to help me with it was just pushing things. The list was my thing with CiCi and if she wasn’t around to help me with it, I didn’t want to think about it.

  “Yo, Ahmed. Can I ask you something?” I asked slowly, not daring to look at him. I stared at my Converse’s instead as my mind screamed ‘bad idea!’

  “I’m not gonna let you wear my three hundred dollar Cavalli jeans tomorrow,” Ahmed replied immediately, shaking his head and smirking at me. “You’re way skinnier than me and you never wear a belt. Nobody wants to see your pants on the ground, pants on the ground, lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground!”

  I seriously should have seen that one coming.

  Snapping my mouth shut, I stared at Ahmed as he got ‘pants on the ground’ out of his system, grinning at me all the while.

  Awesome to think I very nearly entrusted my secret with this moron, huh?

  “And why were you talking to Celsi anyway?” Ahmed asked when he had sobered up. “I would imagine she hates you.”

  You have no idea.

  I pasted an arrogant grin on
my face. “I was trying to get her to be my date for one of my dad’s weekend lunches,” I lied, feeling like a jerk for even saying that but unable to think of anything else that would fly. Ahmed was really enjoying this whole ‘using Celsi’ situation, especially judging from the way he was pushing it down Shazia’s throat whenever she was around.

  Sneering, Ahmed said, “She must be straight dumb if she said yes.”

  “She hasn’t. Not yet. But I’m planning to pull out all the stops in detention.”

  Ahmed couldn’t keep the admiring look off of his face as he clapped me on the back. “Luke Astor, you’re a dirty dog,” he crowed.

  “Hey, what can I say?” I smirked, popping my collar. “She can’t resist my smile.”

  So I’m lying. Shoot me.

  “You still wanna hit that, don’t you?” Ahmed cocked his head in the direction of an approaching Shazia, who gave me a cold look. “Shaz will tell you that’s a no-no. Celsi hates you.” I wasn’t even listening to him as he rambled on like he had the hotline into CiCi’s mind. Shazia was holding a book. With a pang, I realized the book in her hand was ‘Instant Connection’.

  I muttered, “Shut up, Ahmed,” out of the corner of my mouth, as Shazia stood next to her brother, open hostility on her face as she looked at me. I swallowed hard.

  Why did I always do things that made people mad at me? My dad was pissed at me because I was still refusing to go to my therapist. The day I left to stay at Ahmed’s house, he’d stormed into my room in a rage (in his defense, he was drunk) demanding to know why the hell my therapist was charging him double for sessions I hadn’t shown up to. When I explained that she was probably charging me double because I wasn’t showing up (common sense, really) he exploded and threw his full bottle of whisky into my TV. The TV exploded as well and I walked out.