25. Declined
DECLINED
Untraveled Road [Thousand Foot Krutch]
Work starts at six in the evening. There’s time to go to the bank, but I don’t want to ask Conner to take me into Central. However, the daily reminder that Dad no longer brings his police car home weighs on my mind.
Instead, he uses Mum’s car, leaving me without a car to drive. He doesn’t take his police car home anymore because—I’m assuming—he doesn’t want to total it and then explain what happened afterward.
The bell rings, ending the school day. Samantha and Dylan wave goodbye and head towards the bus stop, while I go to the car park with Andy. Conner leans against the car, and as Andy notices him, he grunts and approaches his car. He’s been acting weird all day.
Conner hung out with me during lunch, and while Wylan and Andy smoked behind the trees, Samantha and Dylan chilled with us.
“Hey,” Conner says as I grow closer. “What’s up with Andy? He’s giving me the stink eye.”
I shrug as I step into the car. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Maybe…” He closes the door, but the window is down as he leans against it. Conner watches Andy cautiously before he pushes off and says, “Stay here. I will be a moment.”
Andy notices and steps out of his car, leaving the door open.
I lean out the window and watch Conner saunter towards Andy with his hands in his pockets.
I wish I could read what they’re saying.
Then, I go stiff when Andy looks at me, then back at Conner as his hand grips the door tightly, and he trembles.
Yet Conner seems calm. However, I’ve seen him in the art room, triggering Andy, even though Conner’s form is composed, and he isn’t talking harshly.
It seems to bother Andy more than if Conner were yelling at him.
After their conversation, Andy jumps into his car, and Conner steps aside and lets Andy drive away. When he returns to his car, I ask, “What was that about?”
As Conner closes his door, he says, “I asked him if he doesn’t like me because he has a crush on you and thinks of me as a rival.” Conner smirks. “He denied it…obviously.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Noya,” Conner says, pushing the start button on his car, “tomorrow afternoon, he’s going to confess his feelings for you.”
“Sorry?”
“Can you do me a favour?” he says. “When he asks, can you tell him you will think about it?”
I shake my head in bewilderment. “Why?” My hands tighten on my pants, and I stare at the floor. Doesn’t…doesn’t Conner like me anymore?
“Because you’re going to be in his car…and alone.
Andy is the type who doesn’t seem to take rejection lightly.
It would be better if you rejected him at school, and if he reacts, Sammy or I can be there.
Even Dylan can interject if Andy grows too violent.
” Conner frowns as he says, “Andy is a violent person. He continuously fights and argues with anyone and everyone. From what I know, getting rejected by a girl he has liked since year seven…I doubt he’d take it well. ”
“Oh…” I relax my tense hands and lean back, and the throbbing in my throat subsides.
“I don’t think he will, but if he does, I’ll take your advice.
” I bite my bottom lip, take a deep breath, then say, “Um…could you take me to Central? I need to go to the bank before work. You can say no if you want, too.”
“Sure.” Conner turns to me, and his brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”
I look away and murmur, “Nothing.”
“Is it what I said about Andy? Look, I know he is your friend, but—”
“It’s not that,” I interrupt.
“When what?”
“I thought…” I stare out the window as I say, “When you said I shouldn’t turn him down, I thought it was because you didn’t…yeah.”
“Oh…oh! Seriously? You think my love for Guinevere is that fragile?” He shakes his head and scoffs.
I smile. “Not anymore.”
He barks a laugh, then sighs. “On a serious note, I really do like you, Noya. And I’ve got things planned.” Conner raises his head and smiles smugly.
“And what are those things?”
He eyes me as he says, “You will see. Until then, let’s get you to the bank, right?”
I nod, unable to speak.
During the drive to Central, I think more about what I will say to the people at the bank. I’m essentially opening another account. So, they’re going to question that, aren’t they? And I can’t tell them my reasoning, but I also can’t think of anything else.
Maybe I should go to another bank?
Yet, they may want three forms of identification, and I don’t know where my birth certificate is…
I also don’t have a Medicare card—only a driver’s licence.
So, going to another bank would be difficult, but going to my bank will be easier.
I just need to think of a reason to open another savings account.
The crowded car park forces Conner to search for a parking spot. The guilt gnaws at me at the thought that it could look like I’m using him so he can drive me around to all these places. I could have caught the bus, and the thought crossed my mind, but I know Conner would have offered if I had.
He’s too kind.
The bank is on the ground floor of the shopping centre, and near the front exit leading to the street. Inside, there is a line of stalls, and the owners step forward with pamphlets, hoping for a sucker to draw in so they can gain a sale.
If it weren’t for Conner and his uncaring nature as he keeps walking, I’d be that sucker, sucked in out of guilt and awkwardness. Then I’d eventually have to apologise and tell them I’m broke, wasting my time and theirs.
“What do you need to do at the bank?” Conner asks. He steps to the side, and his hand instinctively moves to my lower back, drawing me to him as a group of rival high school kids walks past. “Do you need to do anything else while we are here?”
“Uh…no. Is there something you need to do?”
“Yeah. There’s a shop I want to check out. I’ll go there while you’re at the bank.”
When we arrive at the bank, it isn’t too busy, and once I’m inside, Conner heads to where he needs to go.
From there, a lady waiting near the line asks what I want, and after I tell her, she tells me to wait in line.
An elderly woman is before me, holding a shortbread cookie tin that rattles as it moves.
Ahead of her, a man is talking to a worker, his foot tapping away as she raises her hands and apologises, then looks for help.
The line doesn’t move much, even though it doesn’t look busy. I step forward and exhale deeply when the lady hands the worker the tin and reveals money bags inside…all coins.
“Excuse me,” someone says ahead as she sits down at one of the service areas. “What can I do for you?”
Relief floods in as I go to her, only for this kick in my stomach, and an anxiety sensation slams into me like a freight train. “Uh…I’d like to open another account, please.”
“You’re already with us?” I nod. “Full name, please.”
“Noya Dawn Taylor,” I murmur.
She asks for my identification, and I hand her my license. After a brief examination, she returns it to me and says, “You’re only seventeen.”
I swallow, then say, “Is that a problem?”
“You would need a parent’s signature to open another account, or someone over the age of eighteen who is a family member can sign these forms before you—”
I bite my lower lip, and the burn behind my eyes swells. I know I’m about to cry, but I must hold it in. This is embarrassing. “But, uh…” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Could you please? It’s important.”
Her expression softens, and she leans forward.
The “do not place their hands behind here” sticker on the counter is inches from her dark skin.
“You don’t want your parents to know you’re opening a new account, do you?
” My eyes widen. Her smile falters as she leans back and scans the screen.
“If you can get a friend or family member eighteen or older on the phone and agree to the terms and conditions, I’ll open the account for you. ”
I take out my phone to find Andy’s number. My thumb hovers over the call button when I breathe in the familiar scent behind me. I jump and hide my phone from view as Conner leans forward with a smile on his face. “Hey,” he purrs.
I look away bashfully, settling my focus on the woman. “Um…is it okay if I come back tomorrow?”
“I don’t work tomorrow. I’m sorry.” She then looks at Conner. “Are you eighteen?”
A shallow breath escapes my parted lips.
“Yeah, why?” Conner straightens up and steps forward, although I wish for him to take a step back.
I grab his arm and say, “It’s nothing.”
“If you sign these forms, I can open an account for Noya,” the lady says as she pushes the papers over the line.
“Sure,” Conner shrugs.
My hold tightens on Conner, and I pull him away. “It’s fine. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Conner doesn’t resist and walks beside me. It might have been because my grip is firm, and the embarrassment of the lady asking Conner to sign forms burns through my cheeks and peels at my flesh. Yet, I’m grateful he questions nothing, and we walk back to the car.
The ride to work is silent. I’m unsure how to explain myself, and I’m also certain he is turning the gears again and putting all the dots together.
Conner reaches for the volume on “Untravelled Road” by Thousand Foot Krutch and turns it up.
As he leans back, I notice a smile on his face.
Oh. Maybe I was reading too much into this, and my silence is the reason Conner isn’t talking.
It looks like he doesn’t care what happened in the bank or has questions tormenting him.
Perhaps he’s giving me the silence I need.
“I like this song,” I say to break it.
“Yeah? Maybe you should plug your playlist in so I can listen to your music.”
“Maybe,” I say, but internally disagree. Some dark songs are within there that scream somebody save me, and I’m not ready to express that to Conner…or anyone, really.
“Where did you go while I was at the bank?”
“Just a store around the corner.” He shrugs. “Hey, random question. When is your birthday?”
“Uh…November twenty-second,” I answer. “Why?”
“Ah,” Conner frowns. “It’s still a month away. I thought it would have passed.”
“No, because of where my birthday falls, my parents took me to school in the year after. But why?”
Conner shrugs and says, “I wanted to know.”
I narrow my eyes and say, “Well, when is yours?”
“February twelfth. Are you excited about turning eighteen?”
I shrug.
“Are you going to university?”
“I want to…but…”
“Money problems?” he finishes, and I nod. “There are ways around that, you know. I’m sure you could get into something if you wanted to go.”
“It’s more complicated than that…”
“What? Your parents don’t want you to leave home?” he laughs.
I flinch. My fingers tighten on my pants, and I gnaw on the inside of my cheek.
Conner’s eyes widen, and he immediately clicks when I don’t respond…or laugh with him. “Seriously? That’s fucking selfish!”
“What are you going to do after school?” I breathe as I unclench my fists. “You said you argued with your parents because you didn’t want to go to uni, but you didn’t say what you wanted to do.”
“I’d like to travel the world—paint and sell my art on the streets.” He leans in with a smile. “At least for a year. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll go to uni or something, I guess.”
I nod as I overlook the car park.
“Maybe you can come with me,” he says.
“What?”
“You heard me.” He puts on his blinker and waits for the car to reverse out of the spot. “I’ll sweep you away, and you can travel the world with me. It will be fun.”
I imagine that. Daydream it, actually. I can see myself packing my belongings, and while Dad drinks away his life, I will leave with no remorse, unshackling the ball and chain I call home.
Conner would pick me up at the bus stop, and when we would go straight to the airport, board any plane that left far from here.
Then, we will sell different concept art pieces. Conner will draw portraits, while mine will be fantasy-filled. I can even do fanart. Samantha loves it when I sketch her favourite anime character for her.
The caravan we live in will be parked near the beach, and we will overlook the sunset. I’d lean into Conner, feeling safe and overwhelmed with emotions as his hand cups my cheek, and those hazel eyes close as he leans in, a breath away from a—
“What are you daydreaming about?” Conner asks, ripping me out of my maladaptive daydream.
I blush and say, “Nothing,” as I shuffle out of the car.
“You’re red. It must have been steamy.”
I bite my upper lip.
“I hope you were thinking of kissing me,” Conner jokes.
My shoulders hunch, and I wish I didn’t exist. I’d rather be a fly, even knowing their lifespan is ridiculously short. At least then, the embarrassment would only last a few days rather than the rest of my life.
“Yeah,” I say, breathing a shaky laugh. “You wish.”
“I do.”
Heat burns across my cheeks, blazing as hot as the sun.