Chasing William

by Therese McFadden

  “The present is better than the future because it is now.”

  Upsetting as it is to no longer have the safety of a group to keep me from the harsh reality that I don’t have a group, it enables me to see the world through a new set of eyes. I am an observer. Through these new eyes (or the new perspective) I can see the whole group fracturing. Amanda must not have had the hold on everyone I thought. They all still eat lunch together but there is hardly any conversation, (it was still better than eating alone by my locker, but that’s not really the point). Outside of our table no one really talks. Amanda spends all of her time checking her cell phone, calling Jake from corners when no one was looking to see her in violation of the “no cell phones at school” policy. Part of me wants to know just what they are talking about that requires constant communication, but another part of me (the part I try to ignore) know she talks to him that much because she is lonely too. Jake does for Amanda what William did for me. He made me feel like there was someone at my side when the tough decisions had to be made, made me feel like I’d never be alone. We all want someone like that. I just don’t want to admit Jake might be that person to Amanda.

  Of course, because Amanda doesn’t know what it is like to live without her “William” she has no desire to try and get her friend back, or even make an attempt to be civil. She asks to change seats in English. I am grateful to not have to sit next to her, but she asks to change seats very loudly in front of everyone. She makes some comment about how distracting I am, even something about how I am keeping her from achieving her full potential in the classroom. A few people snicker, but I think it’s a fifty-fifty split between who is laughing at me and who is laughing at her. Miss R. is on my side as subtly as she can be, reminding Amanda that if she wants to move all she has to do is get up and walk over to an empty desk.

  Amanda positions herself in a diagonal row where she can stare at me without having to even tilt her head. She takes advantage of her new position too, making sure to glare at me whenever Miss R. has her back turned. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Today she flips me off as I walk past her to turn in a paper. It actually makes me laugh. She is trying so hard to be horrible to me it’s just starting to get funny. After all, thing in my life can’t get much worse so there is no point acting miserable because of a few little things she tries

  “Hey, Crissy.” Pru appears out of nowhere after Amanda disappears down the hall. I can’t figure out where she’d been hiding, or why she thinks she has to toe the line for Amanda. Even though I have a new “it can’t get any worse” attitude towards life, something about no one wanting to call Amanda out really gets under my skin.

  “Why do you let her do this to you?” I snap. I sound mean. I didn’t mean to sound mean.

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing you before Christmas, and I wanted to give you a present.” Pru’s eyes are watching her toes and she is wringing her hands behind her back.

  “No, tell me why. Amanda doesn’t own you, she doesn’t control what you do or who you talk to, and you shouldn’t let her. If you hate me, that’s fine, but if you don’t, stop acting like it! I’m sorry I have emotions, that I can’t be perfect all the time, but at least when I feel something I know it’s not because someone else told me to!” I can feel my face getting flushed, but at least I’m managing to control my volume this time.

  “That’s just it.” Pru sighs, but stops twitching as she meets my gaze. “You don’t care. You’ll survive all alone if you have to. You’d rather be alone than be wrong. That’s great. But I need to be part of a group. I’ve never had one before and it feels so safe and secure.I have people and I don’t have to be by myself. I can’t give that up now that I know what it feels like. Even if that means playing Amanda’s game and letting her win. I don’t belong anywhere else. This is all I have.”

  I nod tightly. That was all I had too. Haven’t I lost enough? Aren’t your friends supposed to be the people who help you through hard times, not the ones who make them worse because it’s easier?

  “For what it’s worth,” Pru says with another deep sigh “she shouldn’t have done some of the things she did. Especially the blog thing. That was just cruel. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “What blog?”

  “Oh, um,” Pru’s face goes white and she drops my gaze. “Here.” She practically throws my Christmas present at my feet and flees. She’s not actually running, but she’s walking fast enough I know she doesn’t want me to try and catch her. Probably wouldn’t answer my questions if I did.

  “Merry Christmas to you too, Prudence,” I mutter under my breath. So Amanda did something else she thought I’d never find out about. Not really a surprise. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s bad. I don’t have to read it to know that. Something about the Internet brings out the worst in people. I guess it’s the no-accountability factor or not having to look someone in the face when you tear them down for no reason. Sometimes it feels like the Internet is dehumanizing people, making it easier for all of us to let some evil out. No wonder so many kids commit suicide over social networks. I wonder if that’s what Amanda was hoping I’d do. I never thought she hated me that much, but give someone a keyboard and you never know what they’ll do. I’ve said some things I’m ashamed of to people I’ve never met.

  I have a sick fascination with finding out what Amanda wrote and I speed through the day as quickly as I can get away with. It won’t be safe to check on the school computers in case Amanda notices, or in case I try to kill her in a fit of insanity. It’ll be safer to be in a position where I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to do anything in revenge.

  I go straight to my room when I get home and toss my Christmas present from Pru on the floor. I don’t care what it is. Pru is a coward. If she really cared she wouldn’t leave me all alone. It is easy to find Amanda’s blog, especially since she put a link to it on her profile page. I guess she assumed I’d never bother to check. You know what they say when you assume… that’s another one of my favorite one-liners. Most of the stuff posted the past few days is about Jake. Almost everything is about Jake. The background is a collage of pictures of the two of them. He comments on everything too. It’s a little disgusting. I loved William with all my heart, but I never would have done something like this and neither would he. We just weren’t that kind of a couple. Maybe it’s just all the anger bubbling over, but I really hope Amanda and Jake break up. Not a happy, mutual break-up either, but one of those ridiculous public fight break-ups. I might be a little too mean with that one, but I’m feeling too worked up to listen to my conscience.

  Finally, I find it. It’s buried in the archives from several weeks ago, but I know it has to be what Pru was talking about. At least I hope it is, because if it’s not I don’t think I can handle anything worse. It’s written using this obnoxious lime green font color too that somehow makes it all worse. It’s like she’s talking in this chipper, condescending voice and just begging for me to find it. It’s also been spell checked, everything’s grammatically correct, no lol’s or angry emoticons, like she was writing it to turn in somewhere. I could have handled all caps and exclamation points, because then I’d know she was just emotional. But this -- this was thought-out , word processed, and double checked. Hell, she probably had several drafts typed and saved somewhere on her computer. She meant this.

  I’m not sure how to respond. I almost hope my heart gives out from the shock so I don’t have to finish it. I pull up William’s profile and copy the last paragraph to send to him. I hope he can help me make sense of it using whatever celestial powers he’s gained from being dead instead of here. I curl up in my desk chair, pull my knees to my chest, and cry. Other than that I’m not sure how to respond. I can’t even write another message to William to try and sound things out. I just don’t want to be here anymore. I wish I could transport myself to Minnesota using sheer willpower. I can’t go back to school. I can’t sit there and let Amanda keep living her blissfully devious little
bitch life without doing something about it. I can’t take the risk she might actually say some of those things to my face.

  I fall asleep in my desk chair with my head on my knees.

  To: William Davis

  Message:From Amanda’s Blog: “I’ve never seen someone use death so selfishly, I mean, her little addict must have overdosed at just the most convenient time for her. Everyone who knew her didn’t want to know her anymore. I was getting ready to organize everyone to say it to her face. No less than she deserves. But she comes in all teary-eyed, talking about how he’s dead and she’s upset and can’t believe it and oh, how she loved him. All bullshit, of course. God knows her little black heart doesn’t love anyone but herself. Of course, everyone buys it and she gets a free pass. I bet she pushed him to take too much. She probably wanted him to die so she could get all the attention. If you ask me, the wrong person died.”

  “Sometimes running away and escape are the same thing.”

  I manage to get the rest of the week off sick. I won’t say I pretended to be sick because Amanda’s little blog post actually did make me physically ill, but it wasn’t like I was out with the flu. I try to pretend I got really upset about William again, but I leave the blog up on my computer and I’m pretty sure my mom reads it while I am hiding under the covers. She doesn’t try to talk about it with me, not that I look up to talking about anything but the weather.

  I know I have to get out of bed for the last day of the semester, though. Not only do I have a lot of last day “tests” (so-called because we seniors are exempt from “exams” during exam week) but I have to see what it’s going to be like now that I’ve read…”it”. I also know my parents won’t be too keen on letting me drive myself nine hours north when I’ve missed multiple days of school. If I make it through today, I’ll be free to follow my ghost and get as far away from Amanda (and the rest of my problems) as I possibly can. I know the old “your problems will be waiting for you when you get back” line, but I’m okay with that. Whatever’s waiting for me in Minnesota, it’ll help me get through everything else when I get back. It’s possible I’m setting myself up for failure, and I know that, but I’d rather go out fighting than give up now.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling alright now?”

  “Yeah.” My mom looks worried in a way I’ve never seen her look before. “Besides, I can’t afford to miss all the tests and deadlines. I just want to get everything done before my trip. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

  “You’re sure you want to go on that trip alone? What happens if you get sick and there’s nothing we can do and no one to take care of you? I could come with you. I don’t mind.”

  “Mom…” Now she’s heading into a little more normal mom territory. I can handle normal worried mom. “I’ll be fine. I have my cell phone, I’ll be staying with family, and I’m pretty sure the best thing for my health is a change in scenery.”

  “Well, do you want me to drive you to school today? In case you decide you’d rather stay home? Then you don’t have to drive back alone.”

  “Sure, Mom.” I know she won’t give up until I say yes, and it actually might be nice to not be alone with my thoughts just yet. “But I have to get ready.” I manage a weak smile and my mom nods and walks out of my room, probably to wait by the door and make sure I don’t leave without her. I guess it’s nice to know someone still care, although our parents have to love us, so it doesn’t mean too much. I throw on the first outfit I can find that seems clean and get ready to go. I’m not really concerned with how I look. I have no one to look good for and people have gotten used to seeing me a mess. I try to clean myself up for work, but even then I don’t think I’ve put on make-up since William’s funeral. I wanted to look good for him one last time. Lucky for me I look good in black, or at least I think I do. I can’t wear black anymore, though. I guess that’ll probably pass with time, too. It’s just hard to be reminded of certain things.

  I step on Pru’s gift as I start to walk out the door. I’d forgotten about it with all the Amanda stuff going on. I wish Pru hadn’t told me about the blog. I know that wouldn’t change the fact it was there, but sometimes we aren’t supposed to know what people really think about us. That’s why we have all these rules about conversation and politeness. We aren’t supposed to know every thought someone has about us. It might make us guess a lot or spend hours worrying, but at least it keep us mostly sane. If Amanda hadn’t typed up that post she probably still would have thought it, but at least I wouldn’t know. I don’t really care what Pru got me, but the child inside me can’t leave a present unopened if it has my name on it, so I pick it up with low expectations.

  She’s wrapped it in about five layers of tissue paper, but I can tell it’s some kind of picture frame. It takes awhile to open (Pru didn’t skimp on tape)but it takes my breath away when I finally get it uncovered. It’s a picture of me and William, taken at a dance freshman year. I’m not sure how she got it. Even I didn’t have any real pictures of the two of us. Everything was on the computer. She’d had this printed on real photo paper, framed in a plain silver frame, nothing tacky or “Christmas” themed. It was a real gift. She’d stuck a post-it note on the back with her own type of confession:

  I’m so sorry for your loss. I know he loved you. I wish I could be a better friend. Hope this helps –Prudence.

  I want to be touched, but she is taking the coward’s way out. She knows what she could do to be a better friend and she refused.

  Looking at the picture has a strange effect on me. William is so alive! His eyes are bright and looking at me, his face is smiling, and I remember we were happy. He hadn’t been doing the thing that killed him (or what they claimed killed him) back then. Things were starting to get bad, but neither of us thought it would end in him going to ‘“That Place”’ – or that he wouldn’t have a future to make up for his past.

  I have everything wrong again. Big surprise. This thing with Amanda, whatever it is(I can’t really call it a fight because there isn’t a real issue that caused it. It just is) had gotten my perspective out of focus. A petty fight isn’t worth focusing your life on, no matter how much of a bitch Amanda is acting like. She doesn’t realize that whatever she thinks I’ve done to her is taking over her whole world and the more miserable I am the more she thinks she’s winning. The more she wins the more Amanda wants to play. The more I think about it, the simpler it all seems. I’ve never be able to make Amanda see reason. She has to grow up on her own. I can take myself out of the game. If I stop responding the way she wants me to, Amanda will no longer have control, and knowing her, she’d rather quit than lose. All I have to do is pretend to be happy, treat Amanda like nothing had ever happened. That is how I will respond to her blog post, to how she’s been treating me. I’ll act like nothing is wrong. I’ll pretend I am happy. Maybe if I pretend for long enough, things will actually start getting better. This thing with Amanda though, is all just the beginning. I’ll have plenty of time to come up with a strategy later. Today will start the foundation, but after that everything will be about William. He will be my priority for the next week. Him and me, figuring out why life stopped making sense.

  “Christine? Are you feeling alright? I can call school if you need another personal day!”

  I don’t have a real plan but I know where to start. I run downstairs to meet my mom. I can’t wait for Minnesota. Things are going to start happening. They have to.

  Amanda doesn’t give me much of a chance to try out my new strategy. She avoids me most of the day. I think Pru may have told her I found out about the blog, and she doesn’t want to be forced to own up to it now that I am finally back. At least that shows a little conscience on her part. If she doesn’t want to be called out on it, she knows it was wrong, and that people won’t be able to take her side after something like that. It will all have to come out eventually. We have English together and there is no way Amanda can get out of seeing me at least once.

  Miss R. ha
s the room decorated for the holidays with snowflakes on the windows and candy canes taped to the wall. She must have just decorated for the week because I can’t remember anything being up before my mental health break. I haven’t even started thinking about Christmas. I mean, that’s why we were getting the break, but I haven’t had time to think about the actual holidays. I guess that is something else to go on my post-Minnesota list.

  Amanda walks in right as Miss R. starts to hand out our tests. Amanda looks at me, then quickly looks at her desk. I’m not going to let her get off that easy. She’s going to have to acknowledge my existence a little better than that.

  “Alright, here’s your last test of the semester. Test, of course, because seniors don’t have exams. But you all better have studied, because this test is worth the same as if you did have an exam. Get it? Good. It’s hard, but because I’m supposed to be preparing you for college I don’t feel bad. I will give you a little perk, though. After you finish, since this is your last class of the day, you can just leave instead of waiting for the bell. My gift to you all.”

  I try to focus on my exam but it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering. I keep looking over at Amanda, trying to figure out what she might be thinking. I do manage to finish the exam, even with all the breaks to look up and make sure Amanda’s still there. I have to start my new plan today. Everything has to start starting now. I’m tired of living in limbo. Amanda gets up to turn in her test and I follow her. She tries to rush out the door and down the hall, but she’s not quite fast enough.