I woke up at five, with the help of the IBlaster, which was then playing Rain – Bishop Allen. I jolted out of bed to turn it off, and then slumped back to the safety of my bed. The morning fucking hates me. And to be honest, I probably wouldn’t ever wake up at five in the morning unless I knew I had to wake up Charlie at five thirty.
Ever since me and Charlie started going out, I would wake him up every morning with a short but sweet call. I was dubbed his alarm clock, I guess. Sometimes it irritated me knowing I was depended on like such, but that was selfish. And really, I don’t mind. It’s a simple job. Lately though, figuring out what to say within the call was became harder.
At exactly five thirty I picked up and dialed. One ring, two, three, four. Finally a groggy hello I’ve heard a hundred times before was stated on the other line. I couldn’t help but smile a little.
“morning.” I said.
I heard him roll over from his slumber. “Good morning.” I could hear his little smile too.
“How did you sleep?”
“Alright.” This meant really good, in his terms. Charlie never gets any sleep, he has some problems with that. We talked a bit about dreams, and what’s going on in the next few days, and ten minutes later, we said our goodbyes.
“I looove you.” He said.
“….I love you tooo.” I chimed back. But I wondered whilst I said it how much it might hurt in the long run.
These past few days all I thought about was what will happen in ‘the long run’. I didn’t want to lose anything. And since I had everything to lose, quite a lot was at stake. Shitty situation much? Ugh.
I got dressed and looked at the fully developed little scar I now had. As sick as it is? I was proud to have that scar. I still am. It’s nice to have something your sure is going to be there the next day. Something that won’t leave. I put on a Yoda wristband on my right wrist so the scar was now invisible and went downstairs, passing the living room where mom sat.
“Morning.” I said while passing the room.
“Come here.”
Guilt and anxiety always flooded over me when we sat down to talk. She doesn’t know anything. She didn’t even know I had a boyfriend (let alone kept that boyfriend for the past four and a half months.). Me and my secrets.
I sighed and walked in, sitting next to her.
“What’s going on today?” she asked.
“I’ve got stage crew till around four, then I was hoping you could drop me off at Tristan’s if it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Are any other girls going to be there?”
“Of course.” (lies.)
“That’s fine. Call me later?”
“Can do.”
I convince myself that I shouldn’t bother her with any details. God knows she has too much to worry about as is. Then I walked into the kitchen, got my lunch mom made me the night before, and walked though the front door. I was headed towards the bus stop.
If there’s one place that’s urked me the most over past few years, it’s the bus stop. Some kids are older, but most are kids in ninth (like me.). There are two chirpy gangster girls (mind you, the whitest girls you’d ever meet) who most likely spent there night and the night before smoking pot in the back of the elementary school. Then there’s an antisocial boy, but not in the same way I am. He chooses to talk to people when they talk to him, because he feels as if he knows everything. About religion, the past century’s music, teenagers of this generation, everything. If you even open your mouth, he’ll spit back and make you want to crawl in a hole. Pitiful.
And even though the four of us have shared a bus stop for the past four years, we all choose to ignore our existence. Even when we’re inches apart in the freezing cold, waiting for the bus so the smelly heater can defrost us. When the bus comes our way I sit down and eat the lunch mom packed me. That way I can spend the lunch period in the library to read. I stay in the main lobby for a bit when I get to school, and stay close to Charlie. Then we walked to his locker were I put my coat in his locker.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
“Not a problem. Am I seeing you after school today?” he asked.
“ Stage crew.” I half frowned. “I’ll be there till four.”
He nodded at the floor. “Ok. So I’ll give you your coat back after eighth period?”
“Yes please.” I smiled, and slid my hand into his. He took hold of it and we headed down the hallway. Tristan happens to always be in this hallway before classes, and he happens to always come up to us to talk about something idiotic. I know he just wants to talk to me in the morning, and that’s sweet. But there’s a time, and in front of Charlie with our hands interlocked and headed to class is definitely not the time. I don’t know what he said to Charlie. I honestly didn’t care. Tristan smiled in my direction and I half smiled back.
My stomach churned with pain. Fear. Injustice. Need.
Charlie kissed me on my cheek and we headed separate ways to our classes. They went as usual, completely boring and an absolute blur. Wednesdays especially kill, because when your smack in the middle of a week the day crawls by, with no sign of ever ending.
But I guess, eventually, It had to end. Because before I knew it I was at stage crew, eating strawberry gummies from the vending machine with five minutes till four. A vibration came from my pocket and I took out my phone. A text from my Charlie. I clicked ‘view now’.
Charlie: Hey. What are you doing tonight?
I clicked the Reply button.
Dana: Just driving around with mom. Running errands. (lies.)
Charlie: Fun fun. Call me tonight? I have quite the story.
Dana: Of course.
Charlie: Alright then. Later love.<3
Dana: Later.<3
UGHHHH. You ever notice how so many lies can lead to destruction? Just a small turn of events can create quite the tsunami.
Stage crew ends, and I walked to my mom’s car. We head over to Tristan’s house, which for the past three weeks, has become sort of a second home.
When we pull up to the small two story house I’ve grown to love, I tell mom I’ll call her and walk up the front steps to ring the small white doorbell.
Tristan’s mom greets me from behind the door with a smile. She doesn’t really seem like a mom to me. More like a Barbie doll in disguise (a Barbie doll that can scream with immense power at one of her three boys if needed.). She leads me in the doorway and I head upstairs to Tristan’s small cubicle of a room. He has Rockband blasting from the speakers of his t.v. and batting the drums as usual. He’s actually really good at it, and the songs aren’t terrible. So I let him do his thing, and I do mine. I laid down on his bed, head propped up, reading a book.
This is how everything should be. Tristan in his world, Me in my own. Things are just better this way. Eventually, I hear Rockband pause.
“Is the book any good?”
I smile. “Yeah, the story behind it is amazing. There’s this – “ I go on explaining and he manages to listen even though he’s not much of a reader.
“That’s pretty neat.” He says, and smiles. I smile back and go on to my reading. When he starts up Rockband again, I peak up from my book to look at him a little.
Tristan’s a sophomore, and changed a lot from his freshman year. He has a lot more patience, he’s steadier, he has goals, he’s more understanding, and he’s prettier. He grew, so my head rests at the tip of his chin. His hair is jet black and his eyes a light yet overpowering blue. He’s got muscle but is a complete twig. Yes, he got A LOT prettier. And forgive me if sometimes it’s hard to turn away from the continuing changes of Tristan.
At some point during this, he sat beside me on the bed and turned on a new video game, one were he needed the controller. I put down my book and watched for a bit, though watching zombies die really isn’t my form of entertainment. While he played his game, I crawled over to the t.v., searching for the energy drink I put there earlier. After a bit of rummaging, I found something different. A plastic root beer bottler, and two water bottles. Though, they definitely weren’t filled with the contents you’d assume. The root beer bottle had the right coloring, but one water bottle had orange liquid and the other one had black.
“What’s in these bottles?” I asked.
“Shhh!” He dropped his controller and clasped his hand around my mouth (not firmly, if anything tender.). “Can’t let anyone hear.” He explained, and dropped his hand. Then he softly explained what was in each. Orange juice and vodka in one water bottle, coke and coconut vodka in the other, and Jack Daniel’s and coke in the root beer bottle.
I’m going to be honest, I was fascinated. The liquid inside actually sounded appealing. I never had vodka before, and it seemed like such a mystery, disguised and such. I wanted to try new things, explore anything I could explore…
“Would you mind if I had some?” He asked, and gestured to the ‘root beer’ bottle. I nodded my head no and looked at the other flavors before me.
“Could, Could I maybe have a sip?” I pointed to the orange juice and vodka. His eyes held mostly surprise, and a bit of concern. “Since when do you want to drink?”
I shrugged. “it sounds good.” He handed me the water bottle filled with orange liquid and I took a nice long sip. It tasted exactly like the orange juice I drink every morning, and left a nice warm feeling down my throat and right to my heart.
You might be thinking it was ‘peer pressure’ that led me to drink that night. That’s complete and utter crap. I drank because it sounded exciting to me, it sounded like something I wanted to try. There was no pressure from my peers, or any of that shit they teach in Health class.
The first sip was delicious, and it soothed my tense muscles. It made me relax. I was now laying softly on his bed without any discomfort. At some point the bottle found it’s way back in my hand again, and I took another long, easy sip. Too easy. At that point my head was resting on his chest. I stared up at his then perfect face and became counting the freckles (with a tad bit of trouble) that were scattered on his light face. Everything felt so nice. The third sip was were I had trouble. I had no control of what was being done, and a tongue was jamming its way into mine. My teeth were shoved against his as our tongues danced. I felt blood on my upper lip, but I couldn’t get his mouth off of mine to explain. Then a hand began creeping up my shirt, moving softly with my skin. Against my hip, fingers circling my belly button, feeling so good around the outline of my ribs, being so gentle, and……………
woah. Who said he was allowed up
there?
Feeling good, though really uncomfortable. Bra twisted and mouth in whimpers, we finally stopped. That night I learned that I loved Tristan. I really did. Just not when he was forceful, like tonight. Then he scared me.
He saw I was scared though. He knew it. He held me in his arms, and showered me with kisses on my neck, cheek and forehead. He said he was so sorry, and asked me if I was alright a billion times over. He told me he loved me, but it was less than a whisper. I don’t think he meant for it to come out of his mouth. I excused myself to his bathroom and washed off the makeup that teared down from my eyes. I wasn’t sad. Or pissed. I was merely confused. My mind was a blank as I went back to his room, as I kissed him again despite my lip, and despite what I now can say was probably horrid breathe. My mind was a blank even as my moms car pulled in the driveway. Dylan held me in his arms tight, gave me a piece of gum, fixed my hair a bit, and led me out the door. He waved to my mom and I was on my own.
Everything went fine. I kept the hood of my sweatshirt on throughout the entire car ride and took a shower as soon as I went home. Then I went straight to my room, where I read for a bit. I was reading Glass, by Ellen Hopkins, the stanzas of the ongoing pages sinking into my brain as I passed out into a sweet slumber.
I woke up at about two in the morning, to the annoying beep of the even more annoying phone I possess. I stumbled out of my bed and took the dreaded thing out of my pants I was wearing earlier on, now slumped on my floor.
One new text message from Charlie. I clicked ‘view now’
Charlie: I suppose you fell asleep before you could call? Not a problem. I’ll talk to you in the morning. I love you :]<3
Oh. Fuck. Fuck fuck
fuck.
