Authors: Melyssa Winchester
It’s the first real reminder since I got here that I’m not like anyone else. I’m still the freak.
“You want a drink? They got punch, but since a couple of the guys threw vodka in it earlier, I don’t recommend it. I think there’s soda too.”
I nod my head and he makes his way around to the other side of the table, grabbing a soda and popping the top before making his way back and handing it over. The way he does all of this gets to me. He made sure that never once was he out of my line of vision, just the way I needed him to.
Dillon is doing everything right.
I nod my head in thanks, wishing I could just say the words.
“You’re welcome, Cinderella.” He answers with a smirk. He points up toward the stage and as my eyes follow he speaks. “I gotta help set up the slide show for the Homecoming Court. You gonna be alright on your own for a bit?”
I nod and he smiles again.
“Thanks for the dance, Isabelle. Maybe I can steal another one before it’s over.”
As I watch him retreat, I think about what he said. Can I really stay for much longer? I know things have been going well so far, but I also know that it’s going to start wearing on me.
“Isabelle…”
Oh no. Not now. Not when I’m having such a good time.
I look up and I’m slammed with the intensity of his eyes as they meet mine. Soft, just like before and even in the limited amount of light in the room, the green shines through crystal clear. I feel myself melting the more we just stand locked in place.
“We need to talk about earlier.” He says slowly, almost as if he’s unsure that he’s used the right words. “What Amy told you is total bullshit. I’m not—I’m not playing you, Belle. I would never do that. Not to you.”
I want to believe in him so bad my chest physically hurts. I need to believe because with the way he’s made me feel over the last few days, the last thing I want to do is go on without him. I’m just not sure I can.
Just like Amy said, he’s played me
before; he could easily be playing me now.
“Alright ladies and gentleman, it’s that time again. It’s time to announce the Homecoming King and Queen of Wexfield High, 2014.”
Thankful for the interruption, I turn away from him and those eyes that I swear can see straight into me and focus on Principal Daniels. I might not think I can last here much longer, but I at least want to try and get through this part. It’s what I really want to see.
It’s the one time that a boy and a girl get to feel like the prince and princess of the entire school. It might not be something I’ll ever get to experience myself, but at least I can be here for the people that do.
“You might look like a princess, Isabelle Reagan, but if I had my way tonight, you’d also be a queen.”
Kayden
Homecoming King.
Well I didn’t see that coming, but as surprised as I am by it, I’m even more surprised by who the principal call
s out as my Queen. If there’s ever a time when I needed a sign, it was now. I needed something to give me hope again. Hope that I would be able to get Isabelle to believe in me.
As soon as her name is announced, I know I’ve found it.
Watching as she makes her way toward the stage and more than that, toward me, I can feel her confusion as if I’m the one experiencing it. I don’t think she expected this to happen and I have to admit, neither did I. There isn’t another girl on the planet that deserves to be Homecoming Queen more than her though. This is her moment and man, do I want her to enjoy every second of it.
Before I know it, she’s standing beside me and the principal’s talking again.
He’s talking about us and how our fellow students have put together a package, something that we’re sure to enjoy.
It’s only when the sound of my voice comes over the PA system that I realize it’s not going to be at all what he’s expecting. In fact it’s going to be something way worse.
“She’s nobody, a ghost.”
“I can’t even get within ten feet of that retard without wanting to puke.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad for her; you should feel bad for me, having to hang out with that thing as long as I did.”
“Since when did high school become Kindergarten? They’re letting babies in now?”
“Go ahead man, push her. Ram right into her. She’d probably like it.”
“Everything would’
ve been fine if her mom had just done the honorable thing and aborted her.”
Just when I think it can’t get any worse than hearing my own voice saying these things, all of it spliced together from what felt like years ago, the screen behind us lights up and as I turn, I see her texts sliding up the screen. All of the private
things she said, believing I could be trusted with it.
At first, the messages look tame. Her telling me how much s
he misses me, the hearts and happy faces flooding by the way I’m expecting them to. It’s only when the last message makes its way onto the screen that something dies inside of me. It’s the text from the night I asked her to tell me how she felt and it’s up on the screen, blown up huge, for the entire world to see. Our most private moment exposed.
I’m going to be sick.
I’m afraid to look over at her. I don’t want to see how she feels written all over her face. If she’d been a wounded animal that day in the parking lot, she has to be a hell of a lot worse now. The show isn’t over though, now there are photos of us being filtered across the screen, my voice with the same repeated lines playing over every single one of them.
There are pictures of us together, when we were happy and then single shots, but the worst one is again kept until the very end, probably because it would be the one to have the most impact. It’s a candid shot of the two of us as we’re exiting the bathroom, the day Amy and
Charlotte burned her, tearing her apart inside and out. The pants she’s holding in her hands are noticeably stained, and you can tell by the mess in her hair just how hard everything had been on her.
I remember every single thing that happened that day and not once do I remember pictures being taken. It’s obvious by the way I’m ushering her out, I was completely focused on the task and not on making sure we weren’t being followed. It’s just another way I let her down. I should have known that this was gonna happen.
And I knew just who’s to blame for all of it.
Dillon Murphy.
I was right all along. He hadn’t changed the way Isabelle thought. He was still the same damn snake he’s always been. The difference is, this time; he’d played his part so well even I didn’t see through it. He not only screwed with her, but me too.
The screen finally goes dark and of course our blissfully unaware Principal is trying to do damage control, but he doesn’t realize that it’s too late. Controlling that would have been shutting the shit off the minute the first hateful comment spewed out of my mouth, not waiting until the end.
Idiots.
I see movement out of the corner of my eye and the blue of her dress retreating and as she flies down t
he stairs, heading for the door. Wasting no time, I chase after her.
Catching her as she makes it about halfway across the gym, I grab her arm and spin her around to face me.
“Isabelle, don’t run.”
She’s crying. I can see them running down her face, one after the other and with each tear that drops, I’m prett
y sure my heart rips apart a little more. I know the way all of that looks and sounds, but she has to know I would never have done that to her. I don’t think I have it in me to do that to anyone, at least not anymore.
She’s shaking her head at me, moving so fast it looks like a really bad exorcist impression. I need to make her stop this. The last
thing she needs to do is completely meltdown in front of everyone.
“Isabelle—
Stop! Please.”
I try to pull her to me and she yanks back on my arms, slipping on the floor and falling down in the process. Before I can reach out my hand to her, another hand comes out of nowhere and tracing it all the way up, I see the very last person I expected, standing beside her.
“Get away from her, you son of a bitch!” I yell. “You did this!”
“W
hat are you talking about, K? Everyone heard you on the tape. You’re the one that said all those things. Gotta hand it to you, bro. I didn’t know you had it in you to be that god damned cold.”
I notice her struggling to get to her feet and again I hold out my hand to her. She grabs onto it, pulling herself up and in an effort to protect her from what’s going to happen next, I push her behind me. Before I take my next step though, I hear it.
She speaks.
“You said it…
all of it.”
It stops me in my tracks and as I turn toward the sound, toward her, that’s when it happens. Dillon’s fist connects with the side of my face and I stumble. Concerned with her and making sure that she doesn’t get hurt, I push her again. I see the look of complete freaking horror on her face as she’s taking everything in.
Blocking him before he can level me with another punch, I get my bearings back and rise to my feet. Ducking as he swings at me, I use the only tool I’ve got left and I kick him as hard and as quickly as I can. Stunning him exactly the way I hoped I would, I’m on him before he can even get a chance to adjust to the change. Rushing my body at his, I drop him to the floor and even though his hands are raised in a weak attempt to block me, I level him with punch after punch, until they all start blending together.
I can feel my energy draining, but I don’t stop. I can’t. He’s had this coming for far too long and I don’t give a shit if we’re in the middle of the homecoming dance or not, he’s going to pay for every damn thing he’s done.
As I raise my hand up in the air, I feel someone attempting to hold me back and not thinking, I spin around, my other hand ready to swing and take them down. One direct hit. It’s only when I hear the scream that I realize it wasn’t a teacher or even the Coach that I hit.
It’s Isabelle.
“Fuck!”
Climbing off Dillon, content that for the moment he won’t be getting up, I slide across the floor toward her. It’s only when a hand comes out in front of me that I stop. Ms. Taylor is looking straight at me, her eyes as hard as steel, her hand directly out in front of her, as she’s bent over the only girl I’ve ever loved.
“Stay away from her, Kayden. You’ve done more than enough.”
She leans over I
sabelle and says something I can’t quite make out before using her weight to pull her up. I’m on my knees in the middle of the floor, watching as she’s lifted up into her favorite teacher’s arms and escorted out of the gym. It’s only when she’s completely out and I know she’s safe that I’m able to move again and when I do, I turn right back to Dillon.
His lip is broken open, bleeding, and I can already start to see his left eye changing colors from the punches I lev
eled him with. I’m tempted to rail on him again, but something stops me. Looking at him now, he reminds me of something that I’ve been doing everything in my power to block out.
He’s as broken physically as I am, but that’s not what hits me hardest. It’s the
realization that through all the brokenness, he reminds me of someone.
Me.
Belle
“Isabelle, are you alright?”
That’s such a silly question. Of course I’m not alright. She was in the gym just like I was. She saw what happen
ed to me. How can anyone be alright after something like that?
“I—want—to—go—home.” I answer, my voice quivering after ever word.
Ms. Taylor got me out of the gym as quickly as she could and straight into the girl’s washroom, even though it’s the last place I want to be. I didn’t have the energy to stop her, so I went along with it. Now I’m locked in the stall alone, trying to calm myself and she’s on the other side worrying about me.
“As soon as you’re done, I’ll take you home sweeth
eart. Don’t you worry about that.”
Her words don’t offer
much comfort. Telling me not to worry is pointless. That’s all I’m doing right now. I’m worrying about calming myself so I don’t ruin my dress, worrying about Kayden and what’s going to happen to him for what he did to Dillon. I’m worried about how I look to this teacher who seems to care about me. I’m just worried about everything.
“Can you call my mom?” I ask, my voice evening out though it comes out more of a whisper then I intended.
“I’ll do that as soon as you’re done.”
I slide the lock off the door and ease my way out, still shaky on my feet, but able to walk if it means getting out of here faster.
“I’m done. Can we please go now?”
“Absolutely.”
She walks ahead of me and pushes the door open, allowing me the chance to walk out before holding on to my arms and guiding me toward the front of the school. I hold my breath and close my eyes as she guides me, only releasing it the minute we’re safely outside.
I know she means well, doing this for me, but I hope she realizes that after she drops me off tonight, she won’t see me again.
The minute my mom hears about what happened, she’s going to keep me home and this time, I’m going to let her. I wanted to do right by her, letting her finally go back to work instead of having to stay home with me and look where it got us. After tonight, I’m not sure I’m ever going to be okay again.
Sitting in the warmth of Ms. Taylor’s car, I close my eyes and will the voices that have been flooding my head, to hush. I need quiet now. I can’t take much more of the Kayde
n rage show on repeat. Not only am I hearing his pre-recorded words on a loop, but I’m also hearing everything he said leading up to it.
Amy told me the truth and Kayden proved it.
His wish for me to be Homecoming Queen came true, which means, he knew about the montage they would be playing. He’d probably been the one that set it all up. Despite the angry way he turned on Dillon, who is also to blame, it had still been his voice saying those hateful things.
I
was a game to him.
Did I know
Kayden said mean things about me? Yeah, but the things on the tape tonight, were definitely not what I thought he was capable of saying. He’d done it though and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he couldn’t.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I hear her sigh and I wonder just how much pity she feels for me right now. She might be a special needs teacher and she might even care a little more than the others, but I’m pretty sure right now all she feels is pity and sadness.
“Isabelle, what happened in that auditorium tonight, it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing to deserve it. It should never have happened at all. I do not want you beating yourself up over this.”
Easy for you to say. You’re not the one everyone makes fun of and calls retarded.
“You’re an amazingly
strong, talented and beautiful girl. That is what I want you to remember when I drop you off tonight. What happened is not a reflection on you; it’s a reflection on them.”
I just want her to drive faster, so I can get home, run to my room and never come out again. Can’t she just see that and make it happen already?
“Isabelle, I feel that I brought this on and for that, I’m deeply sorry.”
Well that’s new. How does she figure any of this is her fault?
“Why?”
“A few weeks ago, I spoke at length with Kayden about you. I showed him the writing assignment that I had you do. He asked me questions about you and the struggles you have. I gave as much factual information as I know, but I fear that after what happened tonight, I did the wrong thing.”
She talked to Kayden about me? When? He asked her about my autism? Why would he do that?
The questions keep coming at me and I shut my eyes again, trying to focus on something, anything that will stop the influx.
“I thought he was one of the good guys.” She says and I can’t help agreeing with her. I thought the same thing, even though history should have been enough to tell me otherwise.
“What did he ask
you?”
“He asked me what I knew about Autism, more specifically, your particular diagnosis.
He asked about strengths that you have and weaknesses he might not have been aware of, that kind of thing. There was something more though.”
“What does that mean?”
“He seemed genuinely concerned with doing right by you. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve seen a student so determined before. He claimed he was tired of doing everything wrong, so learning was going to be his first step.”
“The first step to what?”
Even thinking like this is making the ache in my chest worse. I don’t want to know what his game was. I already know the end, but with the way she’s describing it, it’s like there’s more to it and I need to know, even if it hurts.
“To making things
right, at least that’s what I assumed when he sat with me. You walked away from him and he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with that.”
I know the day she’s talking about. It’s the day I overreacted and walked away from him at lunch. I thought he was planning so
mething with her and it hurt that he was keeping it to himself. I guess I should be happy I have answers now.
She pulls up into my driveway and I unbuckle the
seatbelt, fully prepared to say goodnight and duck inside as quickly as possible, but before I can reach the door handle, she speaks again.
“I know it’s probably not the right time to say this, but Isabelle, I don’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“I saw his face the day he came to see me and I’m having a hard time reconciling that Kayden, with the one tonight. I don’t think he had a hand in this.”
Understanding what she means, but not sure I can agree, I thank her for driving me home and slide myself out of the car. Waving once as she backs out of the drive, I turn toward my house, the lights from the living room guiding me forward like a beacon.
As I slowly make my way up toward the door, there’s only one thought running through my head.
Despite what my mom believes, sometimes regrets are a good thing.
Kayden
I am seriously fucked up right now.
After they carted Isabelle
out of the gym, Dillon and I were kicked out. Worst part of all was them stripping me of my crown. Poor bastards actually think something that frigging stupid matters to me.
Apparently they take beat
ing the ever living shit out of each other in a room full of people seriously. Who knew?
There was
a minute or two when we got kicked outside by Coach that it looked like we were gonna wail on each other again. At least that’s what I wanted to do the minute the doors closed. The problem with that is, if I go at him again, I’d be beating on him for shit that I did. Sure, he put it out there, instead of being the decent guy he’d been pretending to be, but that was my fault too.
I knew Dillon was a complete douche. I mean, I taught him everything I know. Add that to what he already had stored away from before and he was a wal
king time bomb for this stuff. I knew it and still chose to believe in him.
It’s actually her fault when you think about it. If it hadn’t been for her and her oh-so-trusting attitude wearing off on me duri
ng our time together, I would’ve remembered what a complete dick Dillon Murphy really is and that shit tonight wouldn’t have happened. Yeah, that’s much better. It’s all Isabelle’s fault.
No, see, that’s not right. That’s the anger and alcohol talking.
It’s not her fault at all. None of this is her fault. All she did was fall for a complete asshole. Can’t say I didn’t warn her.
God, I
screwed this whole thing up. I had one of the best human beings in the world wanting to be with me and I had to go and blow it all to shit. I craved the popularity so damn bad that I forgot where I came from. I used her, making fun of her, in order to make myself look better. All I did was make myself look like the chump I really am.
She’s so much better off without me. I’m just not sure I’m all that better off without her.
Walking away from Dillon, his laughter at my back not even registering, I had one set goal in mind of where I wanted to go. Somehow though, I didn’t end up following through. I might be the world’s biggest dick bag, but I know better than to drive when I’m like this. So leaving my car in the parking lot, I start walking. I was going to walk to Isabelle. I needed to see her, explain what happened tonight.
I ended up at the liquor store
instead.
I sat there for over an hour, drinking straight from the bottle and now I’m attempting to do what I wanted to do earlier.
I know showing up at her house, drunk off my ass no less, is probably not the way to go, but it’s not like I can just walk home. Dean sees me like this and I’m dead for sure.
With as pissed off as Coach was when he threw us out on our asses, I’m not even sure I’m
gonna have a spot on the team come Monday. I screwed up with Isabelle and screwed up my full ride to a college of my choice all in a half hour time span. I am the king.
Well, I was, until they took it away from me.
Ha, I’m so messed up.
If I know Coach, he called Dean already. So going home is not happening. I’ve already had my beating for the day. He c
an take his anger and shove it, or use it on some more of the house. With the way it’s looking now, there probably isn’t a spot in the place he hasn’t completely destroyed in his drunken fits. It’s amazing the place even stands at all.
So Isabelle’s house it is. Her mom likes me. I’m pretty sure; even drunk I can charm her enough to get in the door. Who doesn’t love sweet and respectable Kayden?
Except you’re not sweet and you damn sure aren’t respectable after what you did to her daughter.
You know, I can’t even remember when I said all that shit they got me on tape with. I’m not denying I said it because I know my own voice, but I’ve been making fun of her for so long, it could have been three years ago and I wouldn’t know. Gotta hand it to him though, he nailed all of the primo material. I couldn’t have picked better than that.
I told Tim that her mother should have aborted her for crying out loud. How much worse can you get?
I just hope she didn’t tell her mom exactly what I said about her, otherwise, I’m definitely not making it past her front door tonight.
Finally reaching her driveway, I try to keep myself as steady as I can.
“Isaaaaaaaaabelleeeeeeeee!”
It’s slurred and I swear I cracked a couple times, but it came out loud enough to have an effect. Where they had been no light before, there is now. Right where her living room is, it brightens and I know that I’ve been heard.
Making my way up the rest of the driveway, I take her steps, one at a time, until I’m standing directly in front of her door. Pressing my finger down hard on the doorbell, my body sways back and forth as I wait for someone to get a clue and answer.
When the door opens, I expect it to be her mom. There’s this part of me that wants to see her angry face and be yelled at for what I did tonight. I need to be screamed at. I think I actually need it as badly as I need Isabelle herself.
It’s not her mom though. It’s her.
Her face is still stained with tears and even in my haze I wonder if they’re new or just left over from before. Even though she’s standing in front of me, her eyes are locked on the ground, not even acknowledging that I’m standing here. Seeing her like this pisses me off. I walked all this way to talk to her, the last thing I need is for her to look anywhere but at me.
“You, you need to look—at me!”
Like magic her head lifts and for a split second I think I’m actually going to have those pretty blue eyes aimed in my direction, more than happy with whatever expression shines in them. I’d gladly take her anger, sadness, hell, even laughter if it meant she would just look at me again.
She doesn’t afford me that luxury though, instead looking toward my house across the street, her eyes dull and lifeless. I move toward her and the minute I do, I regret it. Instead of cowering the way I expect, she pushes her body into mine until I stumb
le backward off her front step. Before I can react, she shoves her arms into me, again making me stumble. With one more shove, as hard as I think she can push, she gets what she wants. I fall flat on my ass on the ground in front of her.