Rebel High Reject: A High School Bully Romance

by Olivia Grey

  “Can you just leave me alone? I’m not bothering anyone. I stay out of your way as much as possible and I’m even okay with the fact that you gossip about me with any and everyone who enters this restaurant. But threatening me…”

  “I didn’t threaten you,” she said, puffing out her chest and taking a few steps toward me. “Threatening you would look something like this…”

  I didn’t give her the chance to get right up to my face. Washing my hands wasn’t that important anyways and before I broke down and whimpered in front of her, I decided getting away was the better option. Through the kitchen doors and past all the leftover patrons who drowned me in their venomous stares. Gregg, the owner, I knew he’d scold me for leaving without checking in with him first, asking for his permission; for leaving when the restaurant was still a half an hour from being closed. But it simply was just too much. I had enough to deal with and I didn’t need Henrietta breathing garlic breath in my face or thrusting her fists against my cheekbones. Quitting was also not an option. I needed the money. Getting out of Florida wouldn’t be cheap; starting a new life wouldn’t be cheap. Starting a new life meant dealing with this job, the unwarranted criticism of my always sweaty boss and the bottomless pit of hate that my coworkers opened up for me, every time I was around them.

  I flung my car door open and slammed it shut once I’d thrown myself inside. Banging my hands against the steering wheel drew even more unwanted attention in my direction. I could only imagine what they were thinking. The killer’s about to strike again. When will these people realize that to kill someone the victim would actually have to be dead? As far as I’d heard, Axel was doing okay. The newspaper did a flimsy column on him where they touched the surface of his progress and then followed that with a section about how I deserved to be locked up for life. And maybe I did, but the universe had different plans for me. Instead of having me hidden away, rotting in a jail cell, I was set to face countless measures of hate, day in and day out.

  It took a short fifteen minutes to get home from Greggs Restaurant and Bar. Short because they paled in comparison to the seconds that followed my arrival; seconds that just might have been some of the longest of my life.

  43

  Axel

  I had a plan; a pretty thought through one. I’d show up, flowers in my hand and a smile wider than the ocean, on my face. There were all these things I wanted to say - words that would make everything okay. But when I saw her, my heartrate picked up pace and my lips trembled aggressively.

  “You tried to kill me,” I said, leaping off the rocking chair, the flowers falling to the floor.

  “I…” she stuttered, her eyes still examining her feet.

  “No. No. That’s not what I meant to say.”

  I reached down to pick up the flowers, but she was already gone, across the lawn and in the direction of her car.

  “Frances,” I called out. “That’s not what I meant to say. Please. I just want to talk.”

  She paused, swung her head back, her eyes brightening the night, more dominant than the North Star. Her long curls swayed in the wind, covering her eyes and then revealing them again. I couldn’t see her face, at least not each distinct feature. But her eyes, not as bright as they used to be- but still bright enough- they looked sad and puffy. Like the eyes of someone who’d spent more time wetting her cheeks then looking at the world around her. And yet, they were all I needed, to know for sure, that I still loved her.

  “I just wanna talk, Frances,” I called out again, already making my way toward her.

  I couldn’t move as fast as she did. Every step and every lift of my feet carried the weight of a thousand steps. The memories I had of Frances were formed back when the world had been a brighter place, when I knew that I didn’t have to walk the entire distance, but instead wait for her to meet me halfway. It was weird to think that putting one foot in front of the other was a task worth celebrating. In fact, most people didn’t even call it that. They simply refer to it as walking, strolling or maybe even jogging. For me, however, those were terms that I was still dreaming of using and for now, every exhausting step was simply to be referred to as putting one foot in front of the other.

  I felt like I had the energy to move just a little bit faster than the days before. Much like she’d injected me with a dose of adrenaline. However, I knew I needed to take it easy; recovering was a process and stress was to be avoided. Some might have said that venturing onto Frances’ territory was the biggest stressor and the one that should have been steered clear of in the first place, but I didn’t feel that way. She had the answers that my brain had been wiped clean of.

  “Axel,” she whispered, massaging her fingers, buying time. “I’m not supposed to be around you.”

  “You weren’t supposed to come to the hospital,” I shot back, “and that did me good, so, maybe this will do me better.”

  “No,” she shook her head, “you’re wrong. I’m trouble. I’ll be in trouble. I… I almost…”

  “See, that’s what I don’t understand. I keep hearing all these stories about why you did it and none of it makes sense. A sex tape? Really, I would never do something like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Frances said, her eyes shooting around. I could tell she wanted to crawl into a hole, one so deep in the earth that no one would even begin to know where to look. But even if she’d wanted to try, her body didn’t appear to be in the shape that would have allowed her to dig even the shallowest of holes to hide her brittle frame in.

  “It does matter. I did something to hurt you and you retaliated. Sure enough,” I let a little, but honest laugh slip out, “you really outdid yourself…”

  “It’s not funny, Axel,” she gasped, a wave of subtle horror widening her eyes. “It was an accident and it’s not funny.”

  Her eyes began to glisten, reflecting the light of the bright half-moon in all directions.

  “How’d it happen?” I prodded. I don’t know why, but I needed to hear her side of the story; not the crooked versions that I’d been fed by the newspaper or all those people who thought they had a reason to hate her.

  “Can we just… I just… I’m sorry Axel. I’m sorry about what I did to you and as much as I love you…”

  “So you still love me? Even after the tape, you still love me.”

  “I almost killed you, Axel,” she said, her voice hanging on hinges of pain, ready to plunge into complete anguish.

  “Does it count if I don’t remember it?”

  She spun around again. I’d never seen her so panicky and I hated it. It was like all the vibrancy she used to have was washed away by one mistake. The life she was living- working at that restaurant- it wasn’t a life at all.

  “Let’s go inside,” I suggested.

  “Into my house?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go inside your house, where no one’s watching and no one’s listening.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Please, Frances.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and began to walk. I followed behind her, at a much slower pace. Being close to Frances felt different in a way I couldn’t describe. It was like I’d been given a second chance at life, but I didn’t really feel alive until I saw her.

  44

  Frances

  Axel insisted on heading up to my bedroom and despite the quake in my heart, I agreed. Fear should have been formed in the other direction- from him to me. Instead, I was the one hanging on by a thread; the one who found it impossible to stop my head from spinning, my palms from sweating.

  He was Axel, healthy looking Axel, but still so frail that I feared I might break him. One wrong word, one unforbidden memory, and I could find myself with a whole new round of blame weighing me down.

  He sat on my bed and I took the chair, afraid of being too close, uncertain of what to expect. He wanted answers, which I understood. The thing, however, that I could, by no means comprehend was why he turned to me for those answers.

  “Befor
e we get started,” he said, scratching the back of his hand against his cheek, “I need you to know that I don’t hate you. Everyone in this town wants me to hate you, but I don’t. And because I don’t hate you, I have to tell you that you look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” I said spinning the chair slightly.

  I should have smiled. I knew that’s what he was going for- a joke. A mean one, but a bit of humor, nonetheless. Smiling, however, didn’t come naturally anymore. There was a downward crease in my cheek and it took too much energy, too much thought, to turn my lips up.

  I couldn’t meet his eyes either. Those big brown puppy dog eyes that I’d loved for so long, the ones that haunted my dreams, I couldn’t bear to look at them.

  “I’m serious, Frances. You look like you’re not eating, like… like you’re stressing yourself about everything and I need you to not do that. I’m okay. You can see that for yourself and as much as everyone else might be alright with seeing you suffer, I’m not. Because if you’re hurting, it’s my fault.”

  “You shouldn’t let it concern you.”

  “I can’t help it. Just like you couldn’t help coming to the hospital.” I was about to issue another apology but he continued. “You know, I heard you… all the things you said. And I know that you still love me. I know that you want to be with me and…”

  “That can’t happen,” I said firmly.

  He had no idea what he was talking about. A relationship with Axel was more forbidden than the apple Adam and Eve took a bite out of.

  “I’m not saying I want to be with you. You tried to kill me for crying out loud,” he laughed. “All I want is for you to know that it’s okay to be alright. You don’t have to hate yourself or hate the world. You can be okay. In fact, you can be great, be happy, be everything you want and screw everyone else.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to understand. Let’s just say God told me to be nice to you.”

  “God,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re trying to tell me that he just popped in to have a word with you about being nice to me?”

  “Isn’t that what happens with coma patients? We get to knock on God’s door and ask him to come in. We’ve got to talk to him for that to happen, don’t you think?”

  He was making light of the situation and I guess it was better than the alternative. He could have shown up with a score to settle, justice to serve. But instead, he showed up and was the most human person I’d interacted with in a while.

  “So…” he scratched his chin, “before your parents get home, do you mind telling me what happened. If it’s too much for you, you don’t have to. But like I said, my memory’s a bit all over the place and I want it back. I’ve gotten everything back,” he kicked his feet in the air and wiggled around his flip-flop covered feet. “I want my memory back too.”

  I closed my eyes and pulled in a long breath. I’d played that day over and over in my head so many times. I’d spoken the words at court during my confession. But to reiterate everything to Axel, that was a leap bigger than any I had to cross lately.

  “I was out, shooting with Jemma. I only went there because I wanted to tell her about us but then she said she had something to tell me and she wanted to be the one to lay it all on the table first. That’s when she showed me the tape.”

  “The tape. I don’t know why, but I just can’t remember a tape.” He looked thoughtfully strained, like he was tapping into a part of his brain that was too far to be reached.

  “Jemma said you might have had copies. Apparently she was gonna search your room for them. I’m guessing that after everything happened she didn’t get the chance.”

  He bobbed his head from side to side, considering. A look of disgust crossed his face, like he couldn’t fathom ever doing something like that. And I knew just how he felt because I had my troubles believing that he’d done something so horrid to me; that I’d done something so unforgivable to him. But the proof was in the pudding and I saw it jiggling with my own two eyes.

  “Did you message me? The day it happened, did you message me telling me to meet you there?” he asked.

  “No. I…I mean, I don’t think I did.”

  He nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in thought.

  I continued, “umm… you came and I confronted you. We were arguing and I…”

  “You shot me.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said, not caring about the tears running down my cheeks. “I was just waving my hand around and the gun went off. I tried to wake you up. I did. I thought you…”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “Jemma called them, but I would have. I didn’t care that I would go to jail, I deserved that. I told them everything, that it was all my fault. I never hid anything and I know that I don’t deserve to be out but…”

  “It’s good that you got out. Just make use of your time here, okay?”

  Something changed in Axel like he was disappointed with what I’d said. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but somehow, I anticipated a different reaction. He came to my house all chirpy and carefree and by the time he exited my room, he looked worn.

  “Pick up the flowers from the porch, will you?” he said, disappearing out of my line of sight.

  “I will,” I promised, giving him time to leave, alone.

  Maybe I should have escorted him out but somehow, I got the feeling that he didn’t want me to.

  By the window, I waited until the cab pulled up and watched as he entered and as every trace of him vanished into the night- except the flowers. White lilies. I picked them up from the porch and set themin an empty soda bottle half filled with water. A symbol of purity, of honesty, of perfection- of all the things I wasn’t.

  I wondered if he’d thought about the color; if he’d pondered about the whiteness the way I pondered its meaning. Guilty consciences make heads run wild and I was more than just a guilty conscience.

  Axel should have hated me; things would almost be easier that way. I could watch him from afar and admire his strength. I could learn about his progress through third-party sources. Being face to face with him, that was a whole new ballgame. It was like standing on the plate, waiting for the pitcher to send the ball sailing in my direction, except my hands were tied behind my back. He needed to know about what happened to him and I respected that, but why couldn’t he have just believed everyone else? Or maybe that was his way of torturing me. Killing me with kindness. Forcing me to admit to his face that I did what I did.

  Contrary to what I saw, Axel might have been brimming with rancor. Deep down, his stomach could coil into tiny helixes of hatred. Provided that was the case, my only option was to sit back and grant him permission to appease his appetite for retribution.

  45

  Axel

  A sick boy is dealt far looser consequences than a healthy one. A boy who almost died is spoken to sternly rather than yelled at. There were advantages, you could say, to having been out for an entire year. The people you love got a taste of what it was like to lose you and they never want a breath you take to be one coated in any kind of bad-blood for fear that it’s the last thing they’ll say to you.

  When I walked into my house, mother was already waiting for me, hands crossed in front of her and a petrified look in her eyes.

  “I’m okay,” I assured her. “The doctor says I’m doing great so there’s no need for you to get so upset about me leaving the house.”

  “It’s not about you leaving the house,” she said, motioning to the couch, ‘it’s about you leaving the house to see her. You should, by now, have a pretty good idea of what she’s capable of.”

  “Waking me up from a coma,” I smiled.

  No matter how many times I tried to convince mother that it was Frances that brought me back into myself, she still refrained from believing it.

  “She’s the one who put you there in the first place, Axel,” she said, wiping her eyes aggressively.

  “Please don’t cry. Al
l that matters is that I’m okay, right? And I am okay. In fact, I’m more than okay.”

  “Promise me you’ll stay away from her and I’ll stop worrying.”

  “Mother,” I said calmly, resting a hand on her knee, “I need closure.”

  “And how do you get that, Axel. How does that girl give you closure?”

  “Listen mom, I know you want me to hate her. And of course, what she did was horrible, inexcusable, but for some reason I just can’t hate her. My heart tells me that it’s wrong and it’s not the pain meds messing with my brain. When I went to see her, I felt… I felt happy.”

  “You can’t see her anymore,” mom insisted, taking my hand into hers and giving it a squeeze. “You just can’t. She almost took you away from me and if you let her, she’ll do it again.”

  “Forgiveness is an important part of my recovery.”

  “Then forgive and forget but for Christ’s sake, stop taking trips down memory lane. She’s not right for you. Someone who could do the things she did will never be right for you.”

  “Tell my heart that,” I smiled.

  “You’re not a stupid boy, Axel but damn it, sometimes…” she inhaled, trying to soothe herself but failed, “you act like you’re missing a million screws up there.” Her fingers were pressed against my temple, her face so close to mine that I could feel each breath.

  “Obviously God wasn’t ready for me yet mom and the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you’ll be able to relax. Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing. Okay?”

  I pulled her hands from my head and wrapped my arms around her. She snuggled into my neck, her breath like a furnace against my skin- the heat of fury.

  “Tell me you made dinner,” I chirped.

  “Your favorite,” she gleamed, hopping from the couch and practically sprinting to the kitchen.