by Vera Hollins
The guy tried to remove Blake’s arm with no success, his face going red. “Yeah, man! I got it! I’m sorry!”
“You better be. If I ever see you near her again, I’ll break your jaw.”
“All right! All right. I won’t even look her way.”
“Good.” He shoved him away hard, sending him crashing against the ground. His fists were clenched as he watched him pick up his books and leave in a rush, and something in my chest grew tight. He glared at the crowd that still watched. “What are you all looking at? Fuck off!”
The students were quick to disperse, muttering among themselves about what had just happened, while all I could do was just stare at Blake with parted lips and an increased heartbeat.
A trembling smile took shape across my face. He’d just helped me, despite everything. I didn’t know what to make of this, but it was hard not to feel hope.
He didn’t stop looking in the direction the guy had gone in as I stepped closer to him, having yet to look at me.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Blake. I really appreciate what you just did for me.”
His hands flexed again. My smile diminished. He didn’t move a muscle as he stared straight ahead, and this went on. What was going through his head?
“Blake?”
Without a word, he spun around and moved past me as he returned to his locker, not looking at me even once.
My throat constricted. I went after him. “Blake, wait. I know how things are between us, but I want you to know I’m very sorry. I know how wrong I was, and I wish I’d never done it. I wish—”
“Stop. Talking.” He slammed his locker shut and reached for his backpack that was on the ground. “This doesn’t change anything,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he finally looked at me, carrying anger in his eyes that told me he already regretted helping me. “I meant what I said. Stay away from me.”
He turned around and walked away, effectively destroying any hope I’d had.
“Okay, you’ve been acting weird today. What’s going on?” Melissa asked.
Sar and I had gone to Mel’s place after school. We were in her room, which was an enormous space that could easily accommodate a plane. Well, almost. It had a balcony that looked over their botanical garden and floor-to-ceiling windows that provided enough light to compensate for all the dark tones in the room. Dark furniture, navy blue walls, a black punching bag, a black bookshelf that took up the entirety of one wall, dark sheets—all of that topped off with black carpet with a skull pattern.
It quite matched my mood at the moment.
“You didn’t stay long Saturday morning, so we didn’t get to talk,” Sar said as she moved to sit across from me on Mel’s bed. “Did something happen with Blake on Friday night?”
I gave them the rundown of what had occurred after we left the track, minus the steamy parts, feeling a constant ache in my chest. I’d been able to see the part of Blake I’d never been aware of, and now it was just a memory serving to bring me to tears.
Mel’s eyes bulged out. “You ended up kissing?”
I dropped my gaze. “Yes.”
She didn’t need to say anything because her face was a clear enough message that she didn’t approve of it.
“How did it feel?” Sar asked.
A blush spread across my cheeks. “He really knows what he’s doing.”
Melissa snorted, playing with a pillow on the sofa. “Of course he knows. That guy is a walking prostitute.”
Sarah frowned. “That’s not helpful, Mel.”
“Pardon my mistake. He’s not a walking prostitute—he’s a walking pro-jerk-stitute.” I picked at my nails, unable to look at her as she spoke. “You should’ve kicked him in the balls and threatened to castrate him if he ever approached you again, not kissed him.”
Sarah scowled at her. “Leave it be and try to understand her. She can’t help how she feels. And apparently, he can’t help how he feels either, and that counts for something, right? He wouldn’t have taken her to his favorite place if he hated her.”
Mel grimaced. “Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he abused her for eons. Like I get that he might have feelings for her, which is super twisted, but that doesn’t give him a pass to act like he hasn’t been a major douche from the start.”
“And I know that very well,” I told her. “But I’m not you.”
She poked her pillow idly. “I know. Sorry. I just don’t want him to hurt you.”
“What happened after the kiss?” Sar asked.
“Nothing. He brought me here and that was it.” I preferred to not mention our argument.
Mel cocked her head to the side. “So are you two on good terms now or what?”
I took a deep breath as a fresh wave of pain washed over me. The betrayed look on his face and the hate in his eyes kept torturing my mind, heightening my regret. I felt like crying, but I had to rein it in.
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t tell them what was wrong because I would have to reveal Blake’s past and his intention to get revenge on his kidnappers. “We just aren’t.”
“Do you want to be with him?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
Mel started clapping. “Someone give this girl an Oscar! That acting—so real!” She wiped the non-existent tears from her face, fake sobbing.
Glancing sideways, I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “Shut up.”
“I understand how you feel because I also wasn’t sure if I could be with Hayden,” Sarah said. “I was afraid he would hurt me even more, so I tried to suppress my feelings until I couldn’t do it anymore. I decided to risk it and give us a chance. There’s always a chance Blake will hurt you, yes, but there’s also a chance he will make you the happiest ever.”
I just nodded because this discussion was pointless anyway. I took another deep breath to dull the pain in my chest and wrung my hands together. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
“You sound like you’re going to say you have a husband and two kids,” Mel said. Her eyes widened dramatically. “Do you?”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “You’re wrong. I have three husbands and ten children.”
“Wow. You’re keeping a farm there,” she replied, and we fell into a fit of giggles.
“So? What did you want to tell us?” Sar asked.
I stared at my clammy hands, thinking about the right way to reveal this vulnerable part of me. I was finally ready, but my face was already beet red.
“Please don’t judge me.”
Concern etched into Sarah’s features. “We aren’t going to judge you, Jess. You know you can tell us anything.”
“Yeah, girl,” Melissa added. “You have our support 24/7. We’re your personal superheroes.”
I took a deep breath. “You know I’m going to a therapist for my body image issues. Well, there’s something I didn’t tell you before. I…” I bit into my cheek. “I may have made myself throw up from time to time.” I raised my eyes to look at them, absolutely wary of their reaction.
Sarah’s eyes were wide. “Oh no, Jess. How… Why? When did it start?”
I licked my lips. “In eighth grade. My old crush picked on me because of my weight, and at that point, after many unsuccessful diets, throwing up was my only answer.” I picked at the pulled thread on my jeans. “Mom sent me to a therapist immediately, and I managed to improve my poor self-image a little, but I always struggled with it. I made myself vomit when it got really hard, just like around three weeks ago. That was the last time I did it.”
“Jess,” Sarah whispered, touching her hand to my shoulder. I covered her hand with mine and smiled gratefully.
Mel slid off the sofa and jumped up next to me on the bed. “Come here.” She pulled me into a tight hug. “Why are you doing that to yourself? I’m not saying you need to lose weight, but if you really want to be slimmer, why don’t you exercise? Making yourself throw up is very bad for
your health.”
I leaned away to look at her. “I know. I really do. I guess the pressure was just too much for me, and this was an easy way to deal with it. But exercising…I tried it, but I never made any progress, and it was hard. Maybe one day I’ll try again and be able to stick to it. Then again, I want to love myself the way I am—slimmer waist or not.”
“You’re right, because pounds come and go, but what matters is what’s inside you,” Sar told me.
“Sar, the wise one, is right,” Melissa said. “Don’t rush it. Work on yourself gradually, and you’ll see that you’ll be happier in time.”
I giggled. “You both sound like counselors.”
Mel winked at me. “I’ll start charging you soon.”
“How are you feeling now?” Sar asked. “Have you…have you had the urge to throw up again?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve been talking about it with my therapist since then, and she’s helped me a lot. She helps me focus on the positives and encourages me to follow my dreams. And whenever I have that urge again, she told me the key is in accepting the mistake, learning from it, and moving on instead of regretting my choice.”
“She sounds like my therapist,” Sar remarked. “She always says to accept mistakes and learn from them.”
Melissa grinned. “Your therapists should be besties.”
“Maybe they are,” I joked. “Anyway, thanks, girls. This helps me a lot.”
“Don’t thank us, dummy.” Mel bumped my shoulder. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell us this before. We would’ve helped you.”
I played with the ends of my hair. “I was afraid you would judge me. Besides, my road to recovery is long because this is so much more than just body issues.”
“I know, silly, but still…you’re super, super, super beautiful, on the inside and on the outside. Just take care of your health. As my dearest grandma once told me, health is wealth.”
I returned her smile. “Thanks, Mel. I’ve been feeling like a failure recently, but I know I’m so much more than this. I want to fight it.”
Mel flexed her bicep. “That’s the spirit!”
Sarah’s smile was soft. “You’re absolutely not a failure. You’re kind, smart, and an amazing singer. You have an incredible talent.”
I worried my lip between my teeth. “You really think that?”
Her smile grew bigger. “I know that. Besides, how many people have already told you so on your channel? And they’re absolutely right—your voice is angelic, and you can convey so much through your songs. I can’t wait for the day when I hear your record went platinum.”
My chest grew warm at that thought. A platinum record. That was something I wanted more than anything—for me to be able to reach as many people as possible and touch their hearts with my songs.
I could do that. I had to believe in myself.
“I guess my solo next Saturday is the first big step. I’ll finally do a public performance, and I’ll also use that opportunity to reveal myself on my channel. Kev is going to film it with his GoPro, and I’ll post the video on my channel.”
Mel snapped her fingers. “Now that’s an excellent idea! You’re going to kill it.”
I smiled, unease already filling my stomach. I really hoped she was right.
Several days had passed, and each was an embodiment of yearning and dejection. Blake didn’t even look in my direction, let alone talk to me, treating me like I’d never existed, and I tried to convince myself it was for the best. I kept telling myself none of it would matter once I went to college and started building my future, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t all right.
It was hard seeing him pass me in the hallways, talking with others, or even smiling with someone else. It was hard sitting so close to him in U.S. history. Every night, I cried myself to sleep, tortured little by little by the memory of that sunflower field and fantasies of Blake and me in heated embraces, and it was hard to move on.
And then there was the promise that loomed over his life. I saw him arguing with Hayden and Masen at school a few times, managing to hear snippets of their conversations. I couldn’t make out much, but one thing was clear—Hayden and Masen were against Blake’s desire for revenge. This only doubled the fear I felt for Blake, making it even harder for me to stand aside as he walked straight into something that wouldn’t end well at all.
I poured all my energy into my upcoming solo and used those long hours of playing and singing as my outlet. I grew more nervous as Saturday approached, hoping I wouldn’t chicken out at the last minute and realize it was too big a step for me to take.
The song was important in more ways than one since it was my confession and means of apology to Blake. He wouldn’t allow me to show him how sorry I was, but he’d helped me on Monday, and that had to count for something. I just hoped my lyrics would reach him and prove to him how I truly felt.
The days rolled by quickly, and the school festival arrived with a bang—the opening ceremony in the gym brought the huge but long-overdue surprise that Principal Anders was history. We’d expected him to show up and give a speech, but instead of him, the representative of the new school board took the stage and announced their decision to appoint one of the teachers, Kalifa Aguda, as the new principal. She was a good teacher who actually cared about her students, so this news was a sign of a great change.
Mrs. Aguda spoke about the changes that were becoming effective in the next few weeks, starting with the security cameras they were going to install on Monday and the anti-bullying training all the staff had to undergo. This was followed by loud applause, and then the festival officially started.
The school had organized various activities for the weekend, now crowded with students and parents who moved from one activity to the next. The psychologists manned the booths in the lobby, and both victims and bullies were encouraged to share their stories. Posters that spoke about the short- and long-term consequences of bullying were plastered all over the hallways, and some students wore badges and shirts with slogans like “Say no to bullying, Say yes to unity” and “Bullying—Nay. Peace—Yay.”
Melissa, Shreya Wilkins, and the rest of the student council had contacted a few students who were willing to talk publicly about their experiences with bullying, and they were part of the workshop scheduled for later in the day. Showings of bullying documentaries took place on the second floor, and to attract more people, our biology teacher promised free popcorn and soda for the viewers.
The stands for students to sell their crafts or used belongings were placed near the lobby, and all earnings went to anti-bullying organizations. Mel, Sar, and I were stationed at one of the stands. We sold clay figurines and Sarah’s printed drawings that sat on the mini easel stands. Half of them had already been purchased.
Hayden stopped by to see Sar, and Blake was with him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked at everything and everyone except me, and I could hardly act normal. I tried to catch his gaze, but it was pointless.
His face didn’t reveal his thoughts, but I noticed how worn out he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes, and there was something deeply sad in the depths of them that hammered even more guilt into me.
I didn’t see him again until the charity basketball game between East Windsor and our school, in which Blake, Hayden, and Masen played. The game, which was scheduled right before the choir and solo segments, was about to start, and girls couldn’t stop swooning over the players, flocking around them like flies to honey.
The excitement hung heavy in the air as Sar, Mel, Kev, Marcus, Steven, and I sat in the first row, and it was hard not to stare at Blake, who looked so hot in his black basketball uniform. I wasn’t the only one to stare. Many girls stared, and they stared a lot. A few of them even approached him as he warmed up.
Each time I saw him talking to them, jealousy ate away at me along with possessiveness. He wasn’t mine, but that didn’t stop me from balling my hands into fists and wishing I didn�
��t have to see him talk to other girls. Not even once did he glance in my direction, and it was hard to delude myself into thinking it didn’t affect me.
To divert my thoughts, I looked at Kevin, who sat between me and Marcus. They were holding hands, and I melted for the hundredth time at another display of their affection. Dating hadn’t come easy for Kev, especially during the first few days when whispers and curious eyes followed him and Marcus as they walked hand in hand around the school, but Marcus—that adorable guy—dealt with it like a champ, supporting Kevin through everything. He didn’t let anyone get to him, and it was touching to see him so protective of Kev.
Kev had changed a bit, becoming slightly more confident. He still chose to talk less, but having Marcus by his side did wonders for his self-esteem. He was starting to accept his sexuality and allow himself to be with whoever he wanted, and I was happy for him.
Warming up to Marcus also helped him relax more around Hayden, and I had a hunch that he wasn’t crushing on Hayden or me in the same way as before. I was glad, not only for him but also for Marcus.
I grinned at them. “So, tomorrow will be your week-iversary, right?”
Kevin blushed. He was such a sweetie. “Yes.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do p-p-people even celebrate week-iversaries?”
I chuckled. “You two can celebrate them.”
“I want to take him for ice cream,” Marcus half-joked as he looked at Kev with eyes full of adoration.
“You should,” I told him. “Kev is crazy about ice cream no matter what time of year.”
“There’s this small parlor near the river, Icy Shack,” Sar said. “Hayden took me there last week. Their ice cream was to die for.”
“I went there.” Mel piped in from Sarah’s other side. “Their ice cream is the best, isn’t that right, Steven?” She glanced at him, who sat right next to her with his head buried in his phone.
He barely looked at her, totally distracted by whatever was on his screen. “What? Yeah, yeah, sure.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Steven’s brain.exe stopped working.” Steven didn’t even hear her, his gaze glued to the device.