Winter Untold (Summer Unplugged)

by Sparling, Amy

  I stand idly by, hands clasped together in front of my body, waiting for my boyfriend to finish small talking with these women. He autographs things for them—an iPod case and a dirt bike magazine—and takes a dozen pictures because the second woman keeps looking at each one and determining that it’s not good enough for Facebook, so can he please pose with her again? Ugh.

  Ugh, ugh, ugh. So much ugh. I hate people who love my boyfriend.

  When they finally leave, Jace pulls me close to him and sways gently as we stand at the furthest part that I’m allowed to walk without having a plane ticket myself. I press close against his chest, closing my eyes to block out everything else. I smell him and feel him and listen to his heartbeat which is much faster than usual. I hate these goodbyes. The ones that feel like it will take an eternity to see him again.

  I don’t pull away until Jace reaches into his pocket and pulls out his truck keys. “Here ya go. Take care of her. I left a credit card in the glove box if you need gas money,” he says. “Or, you know… pizza money.”

  I smile, feeling entirely more important than I am, and take the keys. I may be losing Jace for a week, but at least I get a piece of him to take home with me. Or, a piece of him that will take me home, rather.

  Chapter 9

  I get home around midnight, the same time Jace’s plane is probably leaving. It takes a lot of effort to climb out of his truck and go inside, but it’s not because I’m tired. This truck smells like him. That’s why I don’t want to leave it. In fact, I don’t even want to sit in the driver’s seat out of fear that my shampoo or laundry detergent will rub off and wear away his scent. But then I realize that a normal, sane person would not be thinking these things, so I suck it up and pull myself out of his truck, determined not to be as crazy as I want to be.

  The moment my head hits my pillow, a red laser beam dashes across my ceiling. I crawl out of bed and walk over to my window, kneeling to the floor. I push open the glass and lift an eyebrow at Chase, who is also sitting near his window. “What could you possibly want at midnight on a school night?” I ask.

  “Sorry. I saw your light on just a minute ago when I couldn’t sleep. Figured you couldn’t sleep, too.”

  “I just got home, actually.” I yawn, despite myself.

  Chase looks like he hasn’t slept in a while. His white undershirt glows in the light of the moon. He rubs the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that I didn’t know you had a boyfriend until today. So I’d like to apologize for how I’ve acted around you. If I had known earlier, I wouldn’t have… well you know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” I say, leaning forward. “It’s fine, Chase, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I know I came on to you at that party. I don’t remember doing it, but I know I did. I had a huge crush on you and I started drinking so I’d get the courage to go say hello, but by the time I found you I was a little too drunk.”

  I smile, remembering that night. I’m grateful he doesn’t remember it, but all he did was call me cute. He was sort of a total gentleman while drunk, which is saying something. Most guys aren’t. “It’s fine,” I tell him.

  “So how long have you been dating Jace Adams?” he asks.

  “A few months. How did you know his name?”

  He snorts. “Because he’s kind of famous, duh. He seems like a great guy, Bayleigh. I’m really happy for you. ”

  “He is,” I say. My eyes drift off as I think about him and how much I miss him.

  “Is everything okay?” Chase asks, pulling me back to reality.

  I shrug. And then I do something really embarrassing. I tell him about the Facebook photos. And Jace’s long business trips. And my jealousy. The Winter Festival and my birthday and how I’m terrified that he won’t be able to come. And, well, everything else.

  Chase leans against his window frame as he listens to me recount everything that’s happened between Jace and me lately and how it’s making me wonder if I’m good enough to date someone with such a busy schedule.

  Finally, when I’ve said all I can say and am feeling more depressed than ever, I stop talking and glance up at him. He frowns. “Bayleigh you need a hug. But my arms aren’t long enough to hug you from here so, just listen.”

  The seriousness of his voice gets my attention. He continues, “The Facebook photo thing does suck, but I believe him and you should do. Girls do that shit…they take photos of hot guys and plaster it all over their Facebook so they can look important. They aren’t important and Jace does not care about them, I promise.”

  “How can you promise me that? You don’t know.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I do know. You are absolutely beautiful and one of the most fun girls I’ve ever been around. Jace knows that, too. He knows he’s the luckiest guy around to have you and he sure as hell won’t throw that away on some skank at a party that he’ll never see again. He left his truck with you. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  I feel warmth rushing to my cheeks and I’m glad it’s too dark outside for him to see me blushing. “Thanks, Chase. I needed that.”

  “No problem. I’m great at reassuring hot girls that their boyfriend loves them,” he says with a boatload of sarcasm. “You should get to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

  I laugh. “You should get to bed! You also have school tomorrow!”

  Chase stands and puts his hands on either side of the window pane, preparing to push it closed and block me off for the rest of the night. “So yeah… sorry for all the flirting with you.”

  “Is that what you were doing? Flirting?”

  He rolls his eyes and slides the window closed, apparently thinking I was being sarcastic. I wasn’t though, and now I’m wondering if he’s the sarcastic one. He sure seemed apologetic for it though, so maybe he was. Another thought occurs to me as I watch his light turn off and I slide my own window closed.

  Maybe he doesn’t have a thing against girlfriends. Maybe he just didn’t want Becca as his girlfriend.

  Chapter 10

  Becca holds a clothes hanger up to her body while the golden dress that hangs from it presses against her. She turns to the full length mirror on the wall of the dress store and stares at herself. Her lip curls in disgust.

  “What’s wrong?” I reach out and touch the satin fabric, trailing my hand down the skirt. “It looks good and it’s a great color for your skin tone.”

  “That’s the problem.” She grabs the paper price tag affixed to the shoulder and swings it around in my direction. “It’s three hundred dollars. I can’t afford this.”

  “Whoa,” I say, gingerly taking the hanger from her hand and placing it back on the rack. “I only have a hundred dollars to spend and that has to cover shoes too.”

  Becca looks longingly at the golden dress. “I have eighty-six. But I probably have shoes at home that could go with a dress.”

  We look around the store, a family-owned formal wear outlet that occupies an old Wal-Mart, and find a section of dresses for a much lower price. I’m bummed that the more beautiful dresses are out of my price range, but I keep reminding myself (and Becca) that this isn’t prom. It’s just the Winter Festival and it’s not a real formal event but people like to get really dressed up for it.

  Back at home, Bentley already has his little black tux laid out on his desk in preparation of the festival. I’m still trying to find something that’s hot and cheap. The only thing that would be worse than not finding the perfect dress would be finding it and then attending the festival without Jace.

  As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text message.

  Jace: I miss you baby.

  Me: I miss you more. Guess what I’m doing?

  Jace: Um…watching that show about zombies?

  Me: I’m shopping for a new dress.

  Jace: What for?

  Becca gives me a concerned look but I turn away and pretend to look at ugly pink dresses at the rack closest to me. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I debate what I should t
ext back. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember why I would be shopping for a dress. I guess he had no intention of coming back here to go to the festival with me. Maybe he’s even forgotten that it will also be my birthday.

  Me: If you can’t remember why then I guess I don’t need to keep shopping.

  Five minutes go by. I slump into an uncomfortable chair outside of the fitting rooms and watch Becca parade by in three different golden dresses, all within her price range and all pretty awful compared to the expensive one. I still don’t have a reply from Jace and I’ve never been so freaking hurt in my life. This is my boyfriend. The guy I am completely crazy about. The guy I thought was completely crazy about me.

  I almost jump out of the chair when my phone buzzes.

  Jace: I don’t care what you wear to the festival, I just want to be there with you.

  Normally that would be sweet. But right now I’m just not having it.

  Me: Have you figured out if you’ll be in town or not?

  Jace: Not yet.

  Another hour passes and we’re still at the dress store, only at least now I’m not watching Becca try on dresses in her price range. I’m trying on shoes just for the hell of it. Having given up on looking at the dresses, I’ve ventured over to the countless racks of discount shoes, ranging from boring black flats to six inch stiletto clear plastic heels with rhinestones all over them.

  Who needs to waste money on a stupid dress anyway? Not me. Why would I want to look beautiful and dressed up at a place where I won’t even have a date? The digital camera that’s property of Lawson High School will be my date, and it doesn’t care what I look like.

  Later, after having convinced Becca that I’m totally fine and my quietness is only because my head hurts and not because of anything bothering me, I begin doing what I’ve gotten really good at lately: lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It seems to be the only pastime I can find the energy to do now that the large rock of depression has formed in my throat and settled in the center of my chest.

  Is my relationship over?

  Why is that all I can think about?

  I glance out the window but Chase isn’t at his house. That means I won’t be able to casually walk past my window a million times, hoping to “accidentally” see him. It seems strange that I’d rather talk to Chase about my problems than my own best friend, but lately everything is strange. Plus maybe I just need some guy wisdom.

  My phone hasn’t rang all afternoon, and texting Jace in the dress shop is the last I’ve heard of him. I remember back when he worked at Mixon Motocross Park just forty-five minutes away, he would talk to me all day long. A lot of guys aren’t into constant texting or phone calls, and I can understand why. Normally, I wasn’t into that either. But Jace and I were talkers and texters and we loved staying in contact with each other all day long. From the Good Mornings to the Good Nights, I spent an entire summer and fall counting on Jace to be there for me whenever I needed him, and even when I didn’t need him.

  Now he’s like a distant memory, an old relative who only calls on Christmas or birthdays. Okay, maybe it isn’t that dramatic. And he still finds a way to talk to me at least once a day, so our relationship isn’t bad, by any means. A lot of guys don’t like talking all day. It just sucks because Jace didn’t used to be one of those guys. Now he is.

  I know I shouldn’t do it, but I log into Facebook anyhow. My heart beats rapidly inside my chest as I log in and look at my newsfeed. I don’t know why I get so nervous every time I check the stupid social network…it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. It’s not like I’m hacking into his account.

  (Although it’d be a lie if I said I never thought about it.)

  I type in Jace’s name and go his profile. A sharp pain pierces through my heart when I see the newest update to his page. Yet another girl, this time much younger and very beautiful, has uploaded a photo of herself and Jace. They’re very close, leaning in next to each other as she extends out her arm to take the picture herself. The caption says, ‘I met my favorite racer today! I’m so star struck, lol!’

  My heart aches as I stare at my boyfriend’s face in the photo. He’s smiling, albeit a little bit forced. I know that logically he doesn’t like her and he probably doesn’t even remember her name. Just because he took a photo with her doesn’t mean he’s going to leave me for her. I know that. I do.

  But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  I miss my boyfriend and I need him to be with me.

  With a sigh, I take out my phone and break the silent treatment I’ve been giving him since I was at the dress store.

  Me: I miss you and I need you with me.

  No better text than the truth, I guess.

  His reply is instant.

  Jace: I miss you more and I need you even more than that.

  The pain in my chest doesn’t ever seem to go away.

  Me: Then come homeeee!!!

  Jace: Soon, baby. I promise.

  Chapter 11

  When the bell rings after school on Friday, I don’t rush out of class toward the parking lot like everyone else. I grab my backpack and head down the hallway toward yearbook class. With all my depression over Jace and the fact that he’s not going to make it to the festival tomorrow, my school work has been slacking severely. And the one thing that can’t be put off any longer are my yearbook pages. I can let down myself with bad grades in every other subject, but I owe it to the entire school to get this yearbook finished on time.

  Focusing on something other than Jace should be healthy for me. I’ve got to pull myself out of this funk and get back on track with life. Just because he can’t make it for the festival or my birthday doesn’t mean the whole world stops spinning. If anything, it just spins faster.

  When I make it to the yearbook room, someone is already in there, sitting at a desk in the back corner. It isn’t the teacher, but I hadn’t expected to see her for a while anyway. She always heads outside after school for a quick smoke. The student in the classroom, already busy at work on a double page spread, is Chase.

  I toss my bag on the floor next to his and sit at the table next to him. “You’re behind too, eh? I have like five overdue pages that I’m supposed to send to the publisher by Monday.”

  Chase shakes his head, and lifts up the papers he’s working on which look very familiar. “No, you have four overdue pages. I just finished this one.”

  “Wow.” I take the oversized paper and look over the layout of the images, the perfectly spaced captions and perfect little additions to the pages I had started. “Thank you.” No one at school has ever done anything so nice for me before.

  He slides the paper across the table and reaches for the next one. “It’s no problem. You’ve been struggling all week so I thought I’d help you out.”

  I take a stack of photos and pull off the paperclip that’s holding them together. It’s a collection of students from the football team, all wearing Halloween costumes. “How did you know I’ve been struggling?”

  His head tilts to the right and he lifts an eyebrow. “How could I not know? You’ve been shuffling to class with the saddest look on your face all week. I didn’t see you get any work done…you just sat there staring off into space.”

  “Actually, I was staring at the bulletin board,” I say, pointing to my left where a worn out bulletin board fills half of the wall. Did you know there are three push pins with glitter on them? The rest are all clear.”

  Chase clicks his pen and begins writing on a notebook. “Fascinating.”

  I try to think of something to say to break up the silence. “Are you ready for the Winter Festival?”

  He shrugs. “I guess. I heard the food is pretty good.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to go.” I run my finger over the border of one of the edited yearbook pages. “The food is good, but that’s about the only good thing this year.”

  “Boyfriend can’t make it?”

  I shake my head but he’s focusing on h
is work so he doesn’t see it. “He’s too busy with work stuff, I guess.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  We work in silence for a while, finishing up two more double page spreads. I want to tell him that he can leave any time he wants to because I don’t really need his help anymore. The work is pretty much done. But I can’t bring myself to say it because I like the company. What I do say catches me by surprise. “I saw more photos on his Facebook.”

  Chase pulls off a photo and rearranges it on the paper. “Of the same girl?” He doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about—he knows.

  I shake my head. “No, but it still hurts.”

  He waits a beat before responding. “Did you talk to him about it?”

  “Not this time. I’ve kind of just been ignoring him.”

  He nudges me with his shoulder as he applies a glue stick to the back of a photograph. “Uh, yeah, that’s not going to solve anything.”

  “Trust me, I know.” With a deep breath, I let it out slowly and look down at the fake wooden texture of the table. Chase always says what I need to hear, but I never want to hear it.

  Chase clicks his pen closed and sets it on the table with precision, like it’s important and what he has to say now is also important. I look up at him. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at me.

  “You know what your problem is?”

  I stare straight ahead, not answering. Because how the hell am I supposed to respond to a question like that?

  He continues, just as I knew he would. “Your problem is that you’re living for someone else. You need to live for you.”

  “What does that even mean?” I ask.

  “You obsess over your boyfriend. You cater your everyday—your every choice—to this guy. You are incapable of being happy without him. That isn’t healthy, Bayleigh.” He points his finger at me, letting it poke me in the chest very lightly. “You are the only person you should live for. Boyfriends are just a bonus. Make yourself happy first. Learn to have fun by yourself.”