When Our Worlds Collide

by Iler, Lindsey

  Why won’t she talk to me? If she hates me this badly then why did she do what she did? Kennedy could have easily told the cops everything about the events of that night. I couldn’t help but be more curious about her because of her silence. I have never done anything for her. I’m not this nice guy who walks around holier than thou. I’m a dick and everyone knows it. They all just choose to excuse my behavior because of who my family is and how well I play ball. It aggravates me how she blatantly is disgusted by me. She is the one that told me to leave her there on the side of the road that night. I was ready to seal my fate before she had to step in and change it all.

  “Whatever Kennedy, if you don’t want to talk to me that is perfectly fine with me,” I snap back at her a little too loudly. I know right away that the rumors are already rearing their ugly heads. Kennedy’s eyes are wide as she looks up at me. A group of girls that Amanda’s always hanging around with have their beady eyes narrowed in on us. Clearly confused as to why Kennedy and I are having a heated conversation in a rather dull whisper. We have no reason to be talking according to the order of things around here. They are wrong. Kennedy and I have plenty to talk about. At some point Kennedy would have to believe that as much as I do.

  Kennedy’s eyes gloss over when she looks up at me. Her eyes are welling up with unshed tears and I reach out to wipe them away, but jolt back when I realize what I am doing. I shook my head trying to forget what just about happened. This isn’t something I would do with any other girl. I’ve caused plenty of tears in the past, but none that I was willing to try to stop. There is this protectiveness I feel with Kennedy. She just watches me, opening her mouth to say something before shaking her head as if that would have the capability to erase her thoughts.

  Turning away from Kennedy makes me uneasy. Without looking back, I know everyone’s eyes are pointed behind me. I need to get away from her. Putting distance would surely right the wrongs of the situation. I try to reassure myself that it will. I can go on with my life, not giving a shit about anyone except myself now.

  Walking into the cafeteria after second block is awkward. Amanda is waiting for me right inside the doors. She usually sits with a few other girl at our table. I’m not in the mood to deal with anything she has for me today. I don’t have the energy to argue with her which is where our conversation will go today. Deciding I’d amuse her for a little bit longer until it got to be too much work is the simplest of solutions.

  “Hey Babe,” Amanda says with a smile. She slinks her arm through mine squeezing close to my side. Sometimes I think she does this just to show that she belongs to me in some sort of fucked up way. I don’t belong to anyone and I never will.

  “Hi,” I force a smile before removing her arm from mine and making my way to my usual spot at the table.

  A few of the guys are already sitting around talking. I sit across from Craig and Mark. We have been best friends since we were in kindergarten. Both of them are on the baseball team with me and spend most of their weekends bouncing from bed to bed with random girls. Craig is the biggest deviant out of the three of us and isn’t afraid to admit it. Mark on the other hand feels some sort of remorse for bagging and leaving girls in his wake. He is usually the one you can be found in a booth at a restaurant entertaining a girl after the fact. He is a better man than me for that simple fact.

  They are too busy in their conversation to notice I had sat down. I came in at the end, but it wasn’t hard to catch onto their topic as she walked into the cafeteria. All the talk fell to a dead halt as they watched her. Great.

  Violet is on her side as she hobbles in on her crutches. Violet whispers something to her and she laughs uncomfortably. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes just like all the times she smiled at me. Kennedy scans the room for somewhere to sit and lands her eyes on me. Her gaze quickly falls doing everything in her power to look away. Violet ushers her over to a table closest to the door and she looks relieved when she is finally able to sit down.

  I never did understand those two. Violet is a party girl to the core who spent most Fridays and Saturdays hooking up with one of my teammates. It’s been Dan as of recently. Violet and Kennedy aren’t anything alike. I can tell that Violet is protective of her by the way she guides her into the cafeteria as everyone watches with curious eyes. On numerous accounts, Violet has defended Kennedy when Amanda made some snide remark as she walked by. I feel a sense of gratefulness that Kennedy has someone like Violet. I don’t know why I feel that way though.

  “I can’t believe she was hit by a car and the dude just drove off,” Mark speaks not dropping his gaze from her as if he’s seeing her for the first time. I don’t like it.

  “How do you know it was a guy?” I sound defensive. Amanda looks over at me with a confused expression. She guides her hand up and down my thigh as I sit stiffly putting all of my will power into not looking back towards Kennedy’s table.

  “I mean, what kind of girl would hit another girl then drive off? It would never happen. It had to have been a guy,” Craig butts in with his opinion. He takes a large bite out of his sandwich. “She sure did look hot at the talent show though. Who knew that all of that could come from a girl like her? She gave me some serious wood.” Craig’s mouth is full of food as he speaks pointing over to the shy Kennedy that everyone is used to seeing.

  “You’re disgusting,” Amanda rolls her eyes throwing a fry at Craig. Craig dodges the fry and smirks.

  “No, I’m just telling the truth. Graham, you’re trying to tell me that she didn’t look seriously hot shaking her ass all over that stage?” he raises a challenging eyebrow at her knowing damn well that it will irritate her.

  Let’s just say that Amanda doesn’t like it when other girls grab the attention of “her boys”. Amanda has made her rounds in our group of friends to say the least. Unfortunately for me, she is hell bent on lingering longer with me rather than the others.

  Amanda looks between Craig and me waiting for my answer, but I can’t pull my eyes away from Kennedy because apparently I have no will power what so ever. She shyly looks up at me periodically through her hair that keeps falling across her face as protection. When we catch eyes something inside of me stirs. That protectiveness came back. Shit.

  “Yeah Graham, did she look hot?” Amanda is clearly annoyed with the direction that the conversation is headed. “She looked average at best like she usually does. The girl doesn’t have a sexual bone in her body. None of you would know what to do with a girl like her. It would mean you’d actually have to treat someone like a human being and not like a blow up doll.” The jealousy is blatantly clear in her voice causing the other guys to laugh right in her face.

  I tear my eyes from Kennedy as hard as that is to glance down at Amanda who is waiting for an answer. Throwing an arm over her shoulder I answer, “She looked alright.”

  Okay, I lied. No one wants to really know what I think about Kennedy. I’m not even sure how I feel about Kennedy. I know that she surprised the hell out of me at the talent show. Even now when I look at her I’m surprised that I overlooked her for all these years. The girl has some killer legs and pouty lips that are practically begging to be kissed.

  This is going to be a big problem. Shit. Get your shit together. You just ran the girl over, now you are thinking about kissing her. That’s not going to work.

  After lunch I make it my mission to not look at Kennedy. It is nearly impossible since we are in the same class third period. She must have been running late luckily for me. Her usual seat is taken in the front row. She walks into the classroom and scans the room for an open seat. Her eyes linger on the seat that is directly next to me. Kennedy’s face falls when she looks to Mr. Stevenson then back to me knowing damn well that I’m her only option as of now.

  Mr. Stevenson offers to have someone move to the back, so that she doesn’t have to struggle back to the open spot next to me. She brushes off his offer and makes her way back to the seat looking annoyed just as she did not even two weeks ag
o.

  I make a good attempt to help her by grabbing her books. She pushes me off before I even have the chance to lift my hand up. The rest of the hour is spent with Kennedy trying to catch up with what she has missed and her trying to avoid me. There is a few times where her eyes meet mine then they are followed by her abruptly turning her head.

  It is obvious. She has nothing to say to me, but at the same time her eyes say something different. Kennedy has no intentions of hearing anything I have to say. That doesn’t stop her from being curious about me either. If I know anything about girls then I am right about this.

  The class bell rings and everyone gets up to make it to their next class except Kennedy. She waits for the room to clear out and so do I before moving, telling Mark I’d meet him in the locker room. Kennedy is collecting all of her notes and putting them inside of her book as I study her from my seat.

  I break the silence just as she stands to walk out. “Please talk to me,” I ask sounding more sincere than anything.

  “What is there to talk about?” Kennedy answers. She doesn’t even bother to look me in the eye when she speaks. That’s not a good sign, right?

  “I think you know what we need to talk about, Kennedy.”

  “About how you ran me over with your car when you were drunk and I let you leave me in the middle of the road basically broken or about how you haven’t even bothered to check in on me since said accident? Which one do you want to start with because as far as I’m concerned we don’t have anything to talk about?”

  Okay, I’m an even bigger asshole than I thought.

  It’s all a bit clearer to me as to why she is upset. It’s too late now. I can’t exactly turn back the time and if I could, I would have already done that to stop the night of the accident from happening in the first place. I don’t have anything to say to her. I wish there is something to stop her from leaving me standing here, but there’s no fix all to this. Instead I just watch her walk away once again.

  The last hour of school goes by in what can only be described as slow motion. I avoid talking to everyone, even Amanda who basically throws herself at me after school. She offers something that I never would usually turn down, but for once I know sex isn’t going to alleviate what’s ailing me. A blow job couldn’t pull me out of this funk for fucks sake.

  I go to baseball practice with my head in a fog. Standing on the pitcher’s mound is my place of comfort and solitude. Today’s different. Kennedy’s words play on a constant loop in my head as I throw out every pitch.

  Nothing has ever distracted me from baseball.

  Until her.

  Chapter Eleven

  -Kennedy-

  “How was your first day back at school, honey?” My father startles me once I walk in the front door. I wasn’t expecting him to be home from work this early. He is lounging on the couch wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, like he just got done working out.

  “It was fine. What are you doing home from work so early?” I look him over as he flips through every T.V. channel, never stopping on any one in particular. He is clearly avoiding looking me in the eye.

  “I just…” he pauses to think about what he is going to say. “I just had a few things to do around the house, so I bailed out early.” I can tell he is lying. I push it to the back of my mind. Whatever he is hiding is probably for the best. I don’t have the energy right now after my first day back to school to worry about anyone else’s problems.

  I stand in the entrance to the living room thinking about how Graham wants to talk about what happened. I’m not sure if I am prepared to do that. I don’t have a good reason for what I did for him. I don’t know how I’d even begin to explain it to him when I don’t fully understand it myself. I have the tendency to avoid confrontation. I inherited that little trait from my Dad which explains why he is still refusing to look in my direction.

  “I have a lot of homework to do,” I say hobbling back to my bedroom leaving my father flipping through the channels.

  I throw my backpack onto my bed before going into my bathroom to wipe away all of my make-up. It is one thing to be all dolled up when I went to school. It seems pointless to sit around in my room with a thin layer of make-up on my face. I take a moment to stare at myself in the mirror when I am changing into my favorite Notre Dame sweatpants. They are the only thing that could fit over my cast beside gym shorts and skirts.

  I stand looking in the mirror at the bruises that cover a large portion of my body. The ones on my arms are on the minor side. As you get closer to my ribs they get larger. I push on the largest one that is taking up most of my right side and wince at the pain that it causes. I carefully slide the tank top over my head to avoid the pain that lifting my arms causes. Grabbing my crutches I make my way back to my bed where comfort awaits me.

  I grab a DVD off of the bookcase and slide it in the player before throwing myself on top of my bed. Studying is the last thing I really want to do considering the embarrassment I caused for myself this afternoon with Graham. Why can’t I stop thinking about him?

  I’m not sure what I expect or want Graham to say to me. Believing that he owes me something is ridiculous, even I know that. He doesn’t owe me anything. Maybe I am looking for some sort of remorse. Some sign that he is who I think he was. In the small amount of times that I have talked to him and the glances that we have exchanged I thought I saw something in his eyes that is worth knowing. I’ve been wrong all along apparently.

  Watching movies the entire night is the only thing on my agenda besides taking a break for dinner and snacks. I jump on one foot to make it to the kitchen to grab something to drink from the refrigerator. This time I escape falling on my face. Maybe I’m getting the hang of being immobile.

  “Mom, do we have any coke?” I yell to her from the kitchen where she is sitting on the couch with my father having a serious conversation that I have clearly interrupted.

  “Look in the bottom drawer. I just put a few in there yesterday, so unless you drank them all there should still be some,” she yells back to me before turning her attention back to their conversation. Debating on sticking close by to eaves drop or getting out of dodge, I decide heading back to my room is clearly the better option. Anything that they argue about usually entails me and I’m not in the mood to hear how I am complicating their lives these days.

  I grab Pretty Woman from the pile of movies I intend on watching tonight and pop it into the player. Readjusting my body to get comfortable is becoming quite the task. It takes me through the opening credits to get situated. I have three pillows propped under my leg, two pillows behind my back and an extra one on my right side to lean against for support. I look ridiculous being swallowed up by all the pillows around me.

  The movie is just getting to the good part where Richard Gere picks up Julia Robert’s character on the strip when I hear our doorbell ring. I look over at my alarm clock to see that it is almost nine. There is a knock on my door shortly after.

  “Come in,” I push pause refusing to miss any part of the movie.

  My door swings open and my mom stands in the doorway. “You have someone here to see you, honey,” she speaks softly. The look on her face is one of amusement and maybe annoyance. I can’t really tell.

  “Who is it?” I didn’t expect anyone to stop by. Maybe it is Violet, but if it was, my mom wouldn’t have that look on her face that she has right now. Violet hasn’t rung our door bell in almost three years, so odds are it isn’t her.

  “He said his name is Graham. He has something to ask you about a homework assignment. It’s kind of late, Ken,” she says in warning. She moves to the side and ushers him into my room with a raised eyebrow. He steps into my room and thanks my mother for allowing him to come in and assures her that it shouldn’t take too long. This would be a good time for me to protest, but I am in shock at seeing him standing in my bedroom. He takes up too much space making me feel uneasy and on edge.

  My mother steps out and shuts the door behind h
er, but not before checking Graham out. Oh yeah, she definitely allows her eyes to linger on him for a little bit too long. Even grown woman are struck stupid by his gorgeous face and obvious toned body that is badly hidden under his tight t-shirt and form hugging jeans. I may not have any experience with guys, but I can appreciate a good looking one when I see one.

  “Umm…Hey,” Graham fidgets near my dresser that is just right inside my room. The movie is still paused. He looks at the screen then back at me. “Pretty Woman, huh?”

  “Did you come here to talk to me about my movie choice or are you stalling?” I ask with an edge to my voice. “I know that you don’t have any homework you want to ask me about, so let’s just get to the point, Graham. That way you can quit wasting my time and yours.”

  Something about Graham brings out the worst side of me. I never speak to anyone like I speak to him. I watch him as he looks down at his feet refusing to look up at me. His tennis shoes sure are holding his attention. A long hot breath of air releases from between his lips.

  “I’ve been replaying that night in my head since it happened and nothing that I say can change anything that has happened. Not that I expected it to, but I thought that I could come up with something. Just something that would at least ease the pain that I caused you and nothing seemed to fit right,” he explains uncomfortably looking directly at me now. Guys like Graham weren’t used to apologizing. I tried to interrupt him but he continues on. “What I did, what I did to you, isn’t forgivable. I made a bad decision and you got hurt in the process and I’m sorry. I know that apologizing isn’t enough, but it’s all that I have to give you.”

  Graham walks around this town like he is invisible. It feels strange watching him like this, standing in front of me lost and flustered. It sort of makes me feel a sense of power as if I hold something over someone as powerful as Graham. I only see him from afar playing baseball or walking through the halls of the high school with everyone else walking in his shadow. He stands in front of me and I get a glimpse of that person that I am looking for. He is the person who caught my eye right before I started dancing on the stage at the talent show and he is the person that mouthed “Thanks” after I gave him a simple answer in Government class as if it was this huge gesture. There is sincerity to Graham that he clearly doesn’t allow many to see.