Dearest Clementine

by Lex Martin

  We stand on opposite sides of the room, and I’m too overwhelmed to speak. His eyes fall on the moving box.

  “Look,” he says softly, “I know Mom has been hard on you, but I think she misses you.”

  I know he doesn’t believe that, but it’s the kind of lie we’ve always told ourselves. Mom wanted to come to the game, but she had a meeting. Dad missed a flight home from Paris because he got stuck in traffic. They didn’t mean to forget our birthday.

  But I’m no longer twelve and in desperate need of their approval, and hearing that bullshit now snaps something inside of me. “They sure have a fucked-up way of showing it. Nothing says I love you like ‘take your shit before we toss it on the street.’”

  “You’re not being fair. You haven’t called them or gone to see them…” He’s saying the right words, but not even Jax can put any conviction behind it.

  I should be sad that he talks about our parents as though our father didn’t disappear to another continent without a second thought, but I’m too pissed to go along with the charade.

  “Are you serious right now?” I’ve avoided this conversation with him for three years, but now all of my carefully clamped-down emotion is at the surface, hot and bubbling like lava. “Did you ever wonder how I lost my state meet after I won all the others my senior year? How I barely eked out a fifth-place finish when my practice times could have beaten all those girls that day?”

  Jax shrugs.

  “Mom found out I had broken up with Daren that morning. I was walking out the door, and she told me it was my fault Daren cheated on me because I should have slept with him months ago. She said, ‘Why do you think I put you on the pill?’ Then she said she was late for a meeting and left.”

  The emotion of this conversation catches up with me, and tears stream down my face.

  “So did Daren break my heart? Yes. Did he hurt me by hooking up with my best friend? Yes. But you have no idea how humiliating it is to have the whole school know that your boyfriend is getting blow jobs in the weight room and your own brother knows and doesn’t tell you, or that your mother doesn’t care that her daughter is dating an asshole.”

  I put on a sweatshirt and sniffle.

  “Jax, I get that you didn’t know what to do, but you should have told me. If you had, maybe I wouldn’t have found them fucking in his bed.”

  His eyes widen as more tears fall down my cheeks.

  “They didn’t know I had walked in. Not that either would have cared.”

  My body starts to move, and I have only a vague awareness of what I’m doing. The running shoes slip on, and my fingers tie the laces.

  Jax clears his throat.

  “Clementine, I’m so sorry. For everything, I—”

  I get up and push past him into the living room where I come to a dead halt when I see everyone looking at me. Fuck. When my eyes meet Gavin’s, I look down. My heart thunders in my chest. God damn it.

  “I’m going for another run,” I say as I walk out. When I reach the bottom of the stairwell, I’m vaguely aware that someone is calling my name, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, I think as I head out onto the dark street.

  * * *

  The living room is quiet. I tiptoe into my room and find Harper asleep on my bed. The creak of my door wakes her, and she yawns before she registers what’s going on.

  “Hey, you’re back. I saved you some pizza. Actually, Gavin did. He wants you to call him. He’d still be here, but he had a late shift tonight at the dorm.”

  “I’m okay, Harper. You don’t need to babysit me.” I can barely kick off my running shoes much less eat a slice of pizza.

  “I know I don’t, but I didn’t want you to come home to an empty room.” She starts to stretch and then frowns. “Clem, Jax is wrong. You have friends.”

  The thought that the whole world heard the argument I had with my brother makes me nauseous.

  “You guys heard everything?” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they only heard snippets here and there.

  She nods, looking apologetic. “Your door was open. It was hard to miss.”

  I smile weakly. “What can I say? Jax and I bring out the best in each other.”

  “I know you’re pissed at him, but he loves you. He wouldn’t have taken the time to pack up your stuff and bring it to you if he didn’t care. What he did to you in high school was totally shitty, and I get that, but he grew up in the same screwed-up family that you did. You can’t exactly expect flowers to bloom in the desert.”

  I grin through my fatigue. “That was some nice metaphorical language there, Harps.”

  As she gets up, I collapse on the bed, too tired to even shower, which is a cardinal sin in my book.

  “Don’t you want to call Gavin?”

  “Not really.” In fact, that’s the last thing I want to do.

  “Can I offer my unsolicited opinion?”

  I mumble into my pillow, “Will you stop talking if I say no?”

  “Probably not.” She takes the silence as my acquiescence. I’m just too tired to speak. “Don’t shut Gavin out. You tend to cut people out of your life when you get scared or overwhelmed. I think you’re afraid of being judged. Give Gavin a little more credit.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. How much do I owe you for our session?” I should be grateful she’s a psych major.

  She swats me on the leg for being a smartass. “Clem, we love you.”

  “I know. I love you too, nosey.”

  She chuckles as she shuts my door.

  -

  16 -

  Jax is an asshole. Daren is too. Gavin isn’t. But he probably thinks I’m a dumbass after what he heard yesterday.

  I want to wallow in self-pity all morning, but I have to drag myself to math at the ass-crack of dawn. I sit in class, taking notes, copying down formulas, but my head doesn’t process anything except that my mechanical pencil is running out of lead.

  I can’t believe Jax thinks this is all about Daren.

  Another formula. Scribble, scribble. The professor asks whether we understand the concept. No. I nod yes.

  In between classes, I take Gavin’s call. He says he understands that I don’t want to talk about what happened last night, but I’m sure he doesn’t get it. How could he? He has a nice two-parent household and younger sister, and they probably all sit around at dinner time and say shit like “Pass the peas!” and “How was your day, dear?”

  By the time I get off the phone, I’m not sure I want to see him on Friday. I don’t like being put out for display. Harper is right about how I shut out people, but I can’t help how I feel. Gavin heard things I’ve only told one or two people, and I’ve only known him, what, a month?

  Considering it was only twenty-four hours ago when I was marveling at myself in Professor Marceaux’s class and thinking my life was so great, I’d say the recent events are about on par with the shit that goes down in my life. How I thought I could change my luck now is beyond wishful thinking. More along the lines of delusional.

  After another class, I trudge through campus toward the student union, exhaustion saturating my limbs. Lunch, I need lunch. My hands are trembling, probably from low blood sugar, and my head is so foggy I barely notice that I’m standing next to Brigit as I wait in a long line to pay for my food.

  "Clem, how are you?"

  I nod politely while I suck down some juice so I don’t pass out.

  She ignores my grunt and says, “That pacing guide you emailed me is great.” She looks surprised I actually sent it to her. See, I’m not such a bitch.

  “Glad I could help.” I offer a weak smile and pop a baby carrot into my mouth.

  Her face lights up, and we end up talking about our schedules. She’s a sweet girl with big, soulful brown eyes that get even bigger when she’s excited about something.

  “Jason says you’re published, that your book is really good,” she says as I reach for my wallet.

  Wheeler complimented my writing? Not what I was expecting. It d
oesn’t escape me that she’s calling him by his first name. It starts that way. Casually. Him asking you to call him Jason, you thinking he’s just cool and down-to-earth.

  “He’s being kind. I’m sure it’s horse shit.”

  She giggles and smiles appreciatively. “I’d love to read it. What’s the title?”

  Oh, hell.

  I pay for my lunch and pick up the tray. Turning to face her, I brace my hand on the counter, still feeling lightheaded. Wisps of her dark hair fall into her eyes, and I shudder to think how much Wheeler could hurt Brigit if I don’t do anything.

  “Next,” the cashier calls out.

  Brigit puts her food down to pay and turns back to me. “You write under a pen name, right? I swear I won’t tell anyone.” She bounces on her toes.

  My breath catches, and I feel people move around me as I stand stock-still. A knot forms in my throat, the one that tightens when I think about how much Jason Wheeler knows about me. How he could destroy me. Again.

  Internally, I debate whether this is the right decision, telling someone I hardly know. Wait. Why am I even considering this? I haven’t even told Gavin for fuck’s sake.

  That lock of hair falls in her eyes again, and she smiles, and there’s something so innocent about her expression. Something I want to protect.

  Sensing my unease, Brigit sidles closer to me. “Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” She holds up her pinky. Her nails are each painted a different color. I look closer and see that her pinkies are purple with little hearts. Good lord.

  So, yes, I fucking pinky-swear in the middle of the cafeteria, and I decide she’s too cute for her own good.

  But as I'm internally debating whether I can actually tell her, someone yells her name across the cafeteria.

  I turn to catch two girls motioning to Brigit, who huffs out a breath at the sight of her obnoxious friends.

  "C'mon, Bridge!" the girl yells again. "Shake your ass!"

  Brigit looks mortified.

  I bump her with my elbow. "Go on. We'll catch up later," I tell her, relieved at the reprieve. "I'll send you another handout I got in class this week. For your story."

  She nods, her smile reappearing, before she trots off to join her friends.

  Exhaling, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I should know by now that confiding in a stranger is a cardinal sin. I have to find a better way to win Brigit's trust. And I can't wait much longer to tell her about Wheeler.

  Grabbing my food, I settle at a table in the corner of the dining hall. Trying to shake off my lingering anxiety, I get out my laptop and grab my journal.

  My cell buzzes, and I see a text from Jenna: I’m wet for you. Choking back a laugh, I write her back: Dry off.

  Jenna: Whore, you’re supposed to play the game!

  Munching on another carrot until I can think of a good Out-skank comeback, I try to get in a dirty frame of mind. As I punch in the text with my thumbs, I look around to make sure no one can see my screen.

  Me: Dripping wet makes for easy access.

  Jenna: Want to slip and slide?

  Eyeing a guy’s hot dog as he squeezes ketchup on it, I smile.

  Me: Let me sink my meat into your bun hard and fast.

  I’m blushing at my response when laughter bubbling up across the student union catches my attention. A tall redhead is tilting her head back, laughing flirtatiously at something a guy is saying. She has her hands on his shoulders as she leans in to say something obviously only meant for him to hear. They’re in a group of mostly guys, but she’s only paying attention to this one.

  Angry Red. It’s the girl I overheard in the convenience store. Except now she’s wearing makeup and her hair is done.

  She’s beautiful. Tall, leggy, with curves I could never have. I know I’m in great shape, but all that exercise means my boobs could never look like hers. I don’t know why I’m comparing myself to her. I don’t have body issues like a lot of girls, but for some reason I can’t stop watching her.

  Deciding it’s rude to blatantly stare at her, I grab my sandwich. Boobs, I tell myself. Eating can give me bigger boobs. Just as I’m about to take a bite, I glance up, and my heart slams to a stop in my chest. Because the guy she is talking to, whispering to, touching, is Gavin.

  * * *

  The truth is, I have no idea what’s going on with Gavin and Angry Red. He and I never said we were exclusive. Hell, we’ve never actually been on a real date.

  It’s not as though he can cheat on someone he’s not even dating. I bristle at the thought. He’s free to go out with whomever he wants, weirdo.

  It’s not fair to judge him based on what happened with Daren, but I’ll be the world’s biggest idiot if I walk head-on into the same situation all over again. So I go straight to the only girl I consider an expert on these sorts of things: Jenna. After she compliments my Out-skanking skills, I sit her on the couch.

  Her mouth forms a small “o” as I explain what I saw at lunch, but when I’m done, instead of looking adequately horrified, she laughs.

  “That’s his ex, Angelique,” she says like she’s relieved. I’m glad someone is because that knowledge doesn’t really clarify things for me. Of course the stunning redhead would have a name like some kind of A-list celebrity. Sensing my apprehension, Jenna pats my shoulder. “She’s, like, stalking him. He broke up with her this summer, but she won’t go away. I think she’s an RA too, so they’re always forced to do things together, but he’s not happy about it. He was complaining to Ryan about it at your party. She’s always tagging along, and he’s too nice to tell her to fuck off.”

  Jenna bites her nail as she watches my reaction.

  “I guess… I guess I am jumping to conclusions.” The more I think about it, the more I realize I never saw his reaction to Angelique being so close to him. He was facing away from me the whole time. I assumed he was into her because she looks like a red-headed version of Angelina Jolie. Yeah, unequivocally gorgeous.

  But before I get too far ahead of myself, I tell Jenna what I overheard Angry Red say in the convenience store, and she shrugs.

  “You know, you could always ask him about her and see what he says.”

  Oh dear God, no. After everything that’s happened this week, the last thing I need to do is grill him about his ex. Because that would make it less awkward between us.

  It sucks that he knows everything about my love life, and I don't know anything about his, which does nothing to assuage my unease. But in the end, I have no claim to Gavin. He’s a free agent, and I’m… well, I’m nobody.

  I hug Jenna and shuffle back into my room. I need to stay focused on what matters, so I log on to Goodreads and scroll through my messages. Gavin and I might go to hell in a handbasket, but I have to graduate, which means I must sell some books to pay the bills. I haven’t come this far to screw up now.

  Most of my messages are from supportive fans, but when I get to one nasty review about Say It Isn’t So, I feel nauseous.

  “How could the main character Isabelle be so stupid? I don’t know how your best friend sleeps with your boyfriend RIGHT UNDER YOUR NOSE and you’re clueless. I don’t buy the premise of this book. No girl is that big of an idiot. Plus, I can’t get over the fact that she goes out a few weeks later and has a one-night stand. She wouldn’t sleep with her boyfriend for nine months, but she’ll screw some stranger? What a moron.”

  I’d like to write her and tell her, yes, people are this stupid. I’m living, breathing proof.

  I shouldn’t let this person’s opinion bother me, but it does, which means I have to read her review three more times.

  * * *

  After class, Harper and I duck into the convenience store on the way home to pick up some half-and-half, a must-have for our caffeine-addicted household. As we reach the counter to pay, she gives me a look.

  “What’s wrong, Clem? You’re acting weird.”

  Now that I’m standing in one of the shops on the floor level of Warren Towers, I c
an’t stop thinking about it.

  “Last Sunday, Gavin asked me out on a real date, and I think I’m getting cold feet. I mean, he’s a great guy, but…” There’s Angry Red, and Gavin heard my argument with Jax. It’s all too much.

  “But you don’t want to get hurt.”

  I nod, tears welling up in my eyes, which I blink away.

  “I want to bail, but we’re supposed to go out tomorrow night, and it would be really shitty of me to cancel on him now, wouldn’t it?”

  After Harper hands the clerk some money, she turns to me.

  “You’re going to need to do what’s right for you. It’s not ideal to cancel tonight, but maybe that’s a better option than relapsing into panic-attack mode.”

  She gets her change, tucks it into her wallet and twists her lips like she’s thinking. “How about this? Go see him now—make up a reason, any reason—and if you’re still freaked out after seeing him, you can politely back out, face to face. I think having the guts to do it in person makes up for the late notice. On the other hand, maybe seeing him is what you need to relax and be excited about going out with him.”

  “You’re a genius.” Hooking my arm in hers, I smile. “But what can I use as an excuse?”

  “Just say you thought you forgot something there—a spiral, notes, some lint,” she says, nudging me at her joke.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Will you come with me? Up to his room? You can get a text or a phone call and have to leave right away, but I could use the moral support.”

  “Sure.”

  We walk up to the big glass doors that lead to the dorm. Once we’re in the elevator, my heart starts pounding.

  “Relax, Clem.” Harper tightens her arm through mine. “He’s your friend, right? If you decide to not go out tomorrow night, a friend will understand.”

  She has a point. If I’m his friend, I shouldn’t bail. I’m chewing on this idea when the doors open to the eighteenth floor. Gavin’s door is open, but there’s no one there, so I knock and call out his name. That’s when I hear the music coming down the hall from the common area.