Chapter Seven
Lexi
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Ugh, what on Earth possessed me to bring up Andy? I told myself a million times since Brock came back that I would never mention Andy. If Brock brought him up, I would be okay talking about him—whatever Brock needs.
I guess it felt like old times, when I could tell him anything and everything. He never judged me or made me feel embarrassed. But how many times do I need to tell myself that things will never be like old times? I might have ruined things between us even more. Brock looked so sad…
With a sigh, I fall down on my bed and hug my whale plushie to my chest, battling the tears threatening to burst out of my eyes. For the past four years, I tried so hard to push away the memories of that awful day. Some days were successful while other days…not so much.
Squishing the whale to my chest, I once again battle the memory. But I’m so weak. So broken. I give in and let the memory flood into my brain.
It was the summer before seventh grade. Some of the guys stayed in Edenbury while others went to camp or were on vacation with their families. Brock and I were supposed to spend the entire summer together, just like we did in previous summers. But things were very different that summer. There was a new kid in the picture—Andy Hansen.
He hung out with the group throughout the year, but he and Brock got super close. It bothered me at first because I loved when Brock and I hung out just the two of us, but he always made sure to spend enough time with me, too. That was in the beginning, though. As the year passed, he spent more time with Andy and less time with the rest of the guys. Less time with me. I didn’t realize the pain grew inside me, bigger and bigger. I held it all in until I...exploded.
That life-altering day, I went over to Brock’s house to ask him if he wanted to go with me to the theater to watch a new documentary about ocean life. I thought he would jump at the opportunity because we both loved ocean life and were super excited about the documentary. But when I entered his room, he seemed surprised and confused to see me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks from where he sits at his desk with a book.
With a grin, I hop onto his bed and bounce a few times. “Look!” I hold out a page from the morning newspaper with all the movie listings. “The ocean life documentary is playing in an hour. Let’s go! We can buy that disgusting theater candy you love so much. My mom gave me enough money for a ticket plus snacks!”
He just stares at the newspaper page.
“Can your mom drive us?” I urge. “I want to buy tickets before they’re sold out. Or can you ask her to buy them online? Ugh, I can’t wait until my mom buys me a phone.”
His eyes slowly lift to my face, and his cheeks and neck grow pink. His face has been red a lot lately. I don’t understand why. I thought maybe he was sick or something at first, but it’s been happening for weeks. Maybe even months.
“No,” he says, gaze dropping to his paperback.
I just stare at him. “What? But we’ve been talking about the movie for months—”
“I know.” He shrugs. “Maybe another time.”
“All you’ve been saying lately is ‘Maybe another time.’ Why don’t you want to hang out with me anymore? Do I stink?”
“Of course not,” he says. “You smell really good—” His eyes widen and his face grows even redder. “I m-mean…” he stammers. “Andy and I are going to look around town for the most awesome bugs. The weirder the better.”
“Cool! I love looking for bugs. Do you have a jar for me?” I toss the newspaper piece away. “I won the last time with that creepy slug, remember? It was so cool.”
Brock remains quiet for a moment before saying, “I kind of want to do it with Andy.”
It feels like my entire world comes crashing down. “What?”
Avoiding my eyes and focusing on his book, he mutters, “I want to hang out with Andy. Alone.”
“But…why?” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything.
I sniff my armpit. I don’t stink. So why doesn’t he want to be my friend anymore? “Why do you always hang out with him?”
“Who, Andy? He’s a lot of fun.”
“I’m a lot of fun.”
His cheeks turn pink again.
“You’ve been hanging out with him all summer. The only time you hung out with me and the guys was at the arcade.”
“Not true. We hung out at bowling and at Barnie’s —”
“That was at the start of the summer.”
His lips snap shut and it looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
“If you don’t want to hang out with me, fine! We don’t need to be friends anymore.” I spin around and march down the stairs, all the way to the door. Mrs. Hastings calls after me, asking me if I’m okay, but I ignore her.
Wrapping my hand around the doorknob, I wrench it open and stomp down the stairs, wiping away the tears gushing down my cheeks.
“Lexi, wait!” Brock calls.
I whirl around and find him at the door.
“Come on,” he says. “Don’t be mad.”
“Why shouldn’t I be mad?” I push away some of my curly hair that’s in my face. “You like him more than you like me.”
“That’s not true—”
“I’ve been your best friend since forever! We said we’ll always be friends forever.”
He swallows. “I know.”
“And all you want to do is hang out with him.”
Again, he’s quiet.
“I hate him! I wish Andy Hansen would go away and never come back!”
I turn around and storm away.
Tears cake my cheeks and seep into my stuffed whale. I moan a few times, scolding myself for saying those terrible words. Because that led to…
Andy died that day. The whole town is talking about it, including my mom, who keeps muttering how tragic it is for a boy to lose his life at such a young age. All because of an accident. Brock hasn’t been answering my phone calls—his mom and dad tell me to maybe try again later. But days pass and he refuses to talk to me. My mom tells me he just needs time, but so much time has passed and I want to talk to him. I’m his best friend, after all, and I know I can make him feel better.
So I walk to his house and ask his mom if I can see him. She tells me only for a few minutes. When I reach his room, I find him sitting on his bed, just staring at the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. I don’t think his mind is here.
“Hey, Brock.” I hop onto the bed and wrap my arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much. Your speech was so good at the funeral. I know Andy would have been very happy to hear it.” I lean forward to press my lips to his cheek to give him a comforting kiss, but he pushes me away. “Hey!”
He leaps to his feet and glares at me. “You have some nerve coming over.”
My eyes get super wide. “What? I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
“If I’m okay? He’s dead because of you.”
I gape at him as my heart catapults out of my chest. “What…?”
“You remember what you said last Sunday?”
I think for a few seconds. “Um…I don’t think so…”
“You said you wanted him to go away and never come back!”
Bile rises in my throat when I realize he’s right. I did say that. “I didn’t mean…” I stammer. “I was just mad—”
“You cursed him! He’s dead because of you.”
Tears burst out of my eyes and make me see blurry. “That’s not true!”
“It is. It is true! My best friend is dead because of you!”
It feels like the floor disappears beneath me. I can’t breathe. That has never happened to me before. Brock stands before me looking so hurt and broken. So betrayed. It makes me hate what I said. It makes me hate myself.
He’s right. I caused Andy to die.
I run all the way home and bury myself under my covers. I don’t come out of my room for hours.
My cheeks are soaked even more as the memories play over and over in my head. I didn’t tell a single soul what I said that day. My mom thought I was upset because of Andy and because Brock shut me and the guys out, but the truth is that I felt guilty. I thought that I killed Andy. As I grew older, the rational side of my brain tried to convince me that I didn’t kill him—there are no such things as curses. But can I really know that for sure? Does anyone know how the world works? When I said those words, I meant them. I wanted Andy gone. I wanted things to go back to how they were, when it was just me, Brock, and the guys. But I never meant to hurt Andy.
For years I wanted to apologize to Brock for saying those horrible words, but he refused to talk to me. I’m glad he’s back and I was finally able to say I’m sorry. He reassured me that he forgave me, but I know he was just being the sweet guy that he is. I’m sure a part of him still blames me for his death.
Because I certainly still blame myself.