Chapter

10

The radio flicked on automatically at six a.m. Bon Jovi. What a way to wake up. My eyes flew open, and I jumped out of bed in excitement.

“I’m still here!” I shouted, punching a fist in the air. I danced through the morning as I got ready, actually going through the ritual of curling iron and hairspray this morning. I put together an extremely retro—to me—ensemble of jeans and a white blouse with a floral print vest and half boots. I giggled as I looked in the mirror.

“Annie, are you up?” Mom called, knocking on my door. I bounced over to open it.

“Come in, Mom,” I said. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

“Um, I guess,” she said distractedly, looking around my room in amazement. “Your room looks really good, Annie. Can you try to keep it this way this time?” she asked.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll try. What time do we need to leave?” I asked, dancing past her to gather my newly organized school bag. I’d examined my schedule last night and put everything in my bag in order so that I could put it in my locker and have the first class on the top of the pile. Today was going to be perfect.

“We still have about twenty minutes. You should eat some breakfast,” she answered, looking at the clothes hanging neatly in my closet.

“Great idea! I’m starving!” I said. I kissed her on the cheek as I left the room and bounded down the stairs.

My sisters and brother were eating cereal.

“Good morning, guys. Did you sleep well?” I asked. Dan and Rachel ignored me completely, but Hannah glared.

“Why do you even care, lame-o,” she grumbled.

“Well, dear sister, I care a great deal about your welfare. You are obviously angry at me about something, but I choose to ignore that and focus on the fact that we are young and alive and sisters, and, as such, we should be there to support each other in times of trouble as well as in times of peace. Can you please pass the cereal?”

Hannah’s mouth was hanging open, and I smiled angelically at her. Nothing was going to ruin my day today.

By lunchtime I was no longer smiling.

I shoved my chemistry books into my locker roughly and slammed the metal door with a clang.

“What’s the matter?” Corrie asked as she bounced to a stop beside me.

“High school is ridiculous,” I said. “The amount of time spent dealing with bad behavior is grossly out of proportion to the time spent learning. A vast majority of the content is absolute drivel, and the teachers are prejudiced and simpleminded. How does anyone have the nerve to call this education?”

Corrie laughed and bounded toward the stairs. “Nice vocab jump, Annie. I’m taking it that Mrs. Crayk was being a bear again.”

“That woman shouldn’t be allowed around all these children. She’s toxic. It’s obvious that she has some serious personal issues causing her to treat everyone so poorly,” I said. “Not to mention that Mr. Hanover is a lecher and spends more time looking at the girls’ legs and down their shirts as he walks around the room than he does actually teaching anything remotely resembling chemistry. How did I put up with this before?”

“Before what?” Corrie asked, stopping on the stairs. I hurried to backpedal.

“Just, you know, before today,” I said. I really needed to watch my words.

Corrie accepted my answer and ran quickly down the last few stairs. “Well, at least you have orchestra next,” she said, spinning around to wiggle her eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner.

I groaned. “I hope I can play the music. I haven’t played in years,” I muttered, forgetting my resolution of just moments before.

Corrie looked at me in confusion, but luckily our conversation was interrupted as we entered the cafeteria and moved to take our place in line for food. By the time we made our selections and found a table, Corrie seemed to have forgotten my last comment.

“Okay, so we have got to get things figured out for Girls’ Choice. Have you asked him yet?” she asked with her mouth full. It was surprising how much food she could fit in her mouth.

“Uh, I don’t know, Corrie. I’m not sure that a dance like that is such a great idea for me right now,” I said.

Corrie dropped her pizza back onto her plate with a plop. “No way, Annie. You promised. I told you I can’t go without you going, too. Don’t do this to me! You just have to get up the guts and ask him already. It’s only, what, three days away? If you don’t hurry, that horrid Miranda is going to ask him, so no more excuses. Just get it done. You can do it next period.” I started to protest, not needing to ask who “him” was supposed to be, but she cut me off. “No arguments! You owe me!”

I looked at her face and thought about my last memory of her after graduation. All the hope had gone out of that face, and the glow of health, too. It all started with Jesse and that dance. I hadn’t ever gotten up the courage to ask Sam to the dance, and I hadn’t wanted to go with anyone else, so she had gone on her own.

“Okay, okay. But I’m not asking Sam. I’ll ask someone else.” I continued eating as I tried to remember who else there was I could possibly ask. Corrie seemed skeptical, but she was no longer pouting. We ate quietly for a couple of minutes, and then Corrie looked up.

“What about Travis?” she suggested. Travis, Travis? I couldn’t remember anyone by that name. I guess she could see the blank look on my face. “Duh, Travis, that kid who gave you and Hannah a ride home last week and then sat in your driveway for two hours talking. Seriously, Annie, how can you not remember that?”

“Uh, sorry. I guess I’m just brain dead today. I’ll think about it. I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, you should definitely ask him. He was totally into you. I was going to suggest it before, but you’re always so focused on, well, you know,” she finished, her eyes drifting to the back corner of the cafeteria.

I followed her gaze to see Sam sitting with a couple of other seniors I probably should have recognized. He glanced up at me, and I quickly averted my gaze, hoping he hadn’t caught me looking.

“Yeah, I know, but that is done. Over. Finished. I have officially come to my senses,” I said. Corrie didn’t seem to take me seriously. She just shrugged.

“Okay, whatever you say. Well, whoever you ask, you had better get it figured out right away. Like today.” The bell rang, and we gathered up our trash, dumping it in the can on the way out the door.

“Well, good luck in orchestra,” Corrie said.

“Thanks. I’ll see you after school?” I asked. I had to ask her for a favor.

“Yeah.” She walked away, and I watched her go, wondering if I could figure out a way to get her away from Jesse. Suddenly I felt a warm breath on the back of my neck as someone stood too close to me for comfort. I jerked and turned as I stepped away. Sam was standing there with a little smirk on his face.

“Did I startle you?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes and turned to go to class without answering.

“Wait, Annie. I’ll walk with you,” he said, hurrying to catch up.

I ignored him and kept walking, wondering why he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Hadn’t I made myself perfectly clear yesterday? Even while I thought it, I still felt that thrill of electricity that seemed to buzz through me whenever I was anywhere near him. I was annoyed by that fact, and it made me walk faster.

“Where’s the fire?” Sam quipped as he lengthened his pace to keep up easily with me.

“I’m just in a hurry to be away from you,” I blurted, rudely.

“That’s going to be a little bit difficult considering that we are going to the same class, don’t you think?” he asked with a grin on his face.

“Blast. I forgot about that,” I said, coming to a halt. The details were coming back to me now—me at the piano and Sam sitting no more than ten feet away playing the cello, a constant fight to make myself look at my music more than I looked at him, a feeling of inadequacy in knowing that he could play the piano part better in his sleep, and all of it wrapped up in the awkward environment of a barely more than mediocre high school orchestra.

“Annie, what’s up with you lately?” he asked, his calm exterior finally cracking a little bit as he moved to stand in front of me with his arms crossed, as if to block my path. “You’re giving me that note one minute, totally freaking me out, and then the next you are telling me you’re married and don’t want ever to see me again. To be honest, it’s a little hard to follow. Can you please just help me understand?”

“Listen, Sam, I really am sorry about that whole, you know, suicide thing on Sunday. I can’t do more than apologize, which I’ve done twice now. It was completely unfair to push all that emotional baggage onto you as if it were your fault. It makes me sick to think of what that could do to a person, but trust me, it’s better if we just don’t associate with each other anymore. We have some classes together . . .”

“And church,” he interrupted.

“Right, and church, but . . .”

“And performances and sectionals,” he added.

“Okay, classes and church and performances, but that doesn’t mean . . .”

“What about the musical? Are you going to audition?” he asked.

I threw up my hands and sighed.

“I don’t know! Look, I’m trying to make this easier on both of us. So we are thrown together a lot, so what! Does that mean that we have to continue this . . . this sick twisted thing that keeps dragging on and on? No!” I pushed past him and kept walking, mumbling to myself now. “You know, that was always the problem. I couldn’t ever get over you because I saw you so much, every single stinking day, and there you were, sitting there looking all intense and brooding like you had some deep mystery to be unraveled, and I was totally sucked in. Add to it the fact that you pulled stunts like this all the time, cornering me and trying to make me feel like it was really important to you whether I lived or died. It worked, okay? I cared! I cared so much that I had myself tied up in knots for years wondering if you really loved me secretly and maybe there was just something mysterious holding you back.” Oh, how true that had been.

I spun back to face him. “Believe me, I had a very vivid imagination, and it kept me hoping. And just when I’d get sick of the whole game and decide that I was done with waiting around for you, you’d call me and tell me how much our conversations helped you and how you couldn’t make it through all the garbage with your family without me, and I’d feel all validated and important and then I’d show up to school the next day expecting there to be something new and significant between us, and you’d be there, flirting with Jane or Miranda and acting like we were barely acquaintances.” The hurt and hopelessness I’d felt were surprisingly fresh in my mind. “You know,” I said, advancing toward him, “it’s a miracle that I was ever able to actually trust Mitch enough to let myself be vulnerable with him in the first place.”

He stepped back at the expression on my face.

There was a spark of anger in his response. “There’s that name again. Annie, wait! Who in the world is Mitch?” he asked, jumping in front of me again as I turned to stride away, his eyes boring down into mine. “And before you say that whole thing about selective hearing again, yes, I heard what you said. I don’t get it, but I heard it. Seriously, though, I don’t even know anyone named Jane, and I’m definitely not interested in Miranda. I’ve never flirted with anyone in front of you or dated any of your friends.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you will. Just wait a month or two.” The impossibility of this conversation washed over me, leaving me drained of my anger. I swiped a hand through my hair.

“Look, I’ve had a really bad day, and I can’t even express to you how bad the last couple of years have been, so I’m really not in the mood to play this game again with you. Just trust me. I don’t want to do it anymore. Go live your life. I’m going to live mine, and you aren’t in it.” I waited for him to move, trying to stare him down. He didn’t move.

“Please, Sam? Please?” I said quietly, suddenly feeling very close to tears. Curse these stupid teenage emotions. He paused just a minute longer and then stepped aside.

“He’s a lucky guy, you know,” he said quietly as I reached for the doorknob.

“Who is?”

“This Mitch person. I hope he doesn’t hurt you. You deserve something really wonderful,” he said as he turned and walked in the other direction. That’s when the teenage emotions won out again, and I ended up back in the same stall in the same restroom as the day before, crying and sniffing my way through half a roll of toilet paper.

Stupid Sam, who acted like he cared when he obviously didn’t. Stupid Mitch for leaving me. Oh, yes, he had definitely hurt me, obviously not on purpose, but, still, it hurt all right. Stupid me for allowing that stupid teenage boy get to me. Stupid school for existing in the first place. Stupid restroom for not having an actual box of tissues. Stupid toilet paper for making my nose raw. Stupid, stupid, stupid.