Chapter 24 #3
“I, uh, always thought, back when we lived together, that you were this perfect guy,” I say, biting my lip and I notice another flex, this one on his jaw.
“You were so calm and determined and focused, you know? So dedicated to the game, to your goals. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone with your focus.
Not even my sister or my mom. I admired that about you. A lot. The Blond Arrow.
“But then years later, I got to know you. I actually got to know you. I mean, it’s funny because I had all these plans of going away and you were somewhere else.
But somehow we ended up in the same place.
But anyway, I got to know a different side of you.
A new side. This guy who smokes because he’s stressed out.
This guy who can get really angry when his trust is broken.
Who can be so vulnerable and strong and tortured all at the same time.
This guy who can be so mean and rude. Sometimes so much that I wanna smack him.
But then sometimes he can be so sweet, you know? ”
I chuckle brokenly. “I want to say that… I like that guy. That Arrow. And it hurts me that you think that guy is a failure. That he’s a liability.
That he should be ignored. That anything other than The Blond Arrow, any other instinct that you have, is wrong.
It hurts me when you beat that guy up for his flaws.
Because that guy has something to offer, you know?
That guy has so much to offer. You know how I know that? ”
His jaw is ticking and ticking.
And I know that the heart that he thinks is dead is pounding inside his chest. I can see the tight vein on his neck throbbing just like his jaw.
“How?” he rasps, his eyes somehow both molten and on fire.
“Because he’s the guy who gave me this.” I motion to the envelope stuck to my chest. “He’s the guy who gave me a chance.
Me. A girl who’s never followed a rule. A girl who never ever wanted to be perfect.
He gave me a chance. He inspired me to be more.
Not only that, that guy forgave me. For something that I’ve been beating myself up for for years, for falling in love with my sister’s boyfriend.
He forgave me, Arrow. How can that guy be anything less than perfect when he gave me such a perfect gift?
“Please, please don’t shut him out, Arrow.
Please. He’s inside of you and he’s good.
He deserves more. He deserves your acceptance.
Don’t shut that part of yourself out. Give it a chance, like you gave me.
You told me that I could go places, right?
That guy can go places too. That guy can do whatever he wants.
That guy can be whoever he wants. Just… please give him a chance.
Give yourself a chance. You can be both.
The Blond Arrow and just Arrow. And do you know how I know that? ”
This time, he doesn’t say anything.
He simply stares at me with so much emotion that my knees get weak.
But I hold on.
Because I want to see him one last time, study him one last time.
I focus on his wicked jaw and sharp cheekbones. I focus on his tight broad shoulders. The sleek biceps, his muscular, powerful thighs.
The body built to be the best.
The Blond Arrow. Just Arrow.
My Arrow.
I reach my hand out and comb his sun-struck hair back for the last time. I lean in with my lips and kiss his cheek before whispering, “Because I believe in you too.”
And then, I spin around and I run.
I run, clutching the envelope to my chest as tears stream down my face. As my heart pounds and pounds in my chest and my legs, making me run faster than ever.
I run even when I hear him call out my name. Not once but twice.
In fact, I run harder.
I don’t wanna hear whatever he has to say to me because I know it won’t be what I want to hear: that he’ll stay.
So I keep going.
I scale the fence that I’ve done a thousand times before. I run through the grounds and race back to the dorm building and turn the knob again like I’ve done a thousand times before.
But when I get in, everything is different.
I haven’t seen this before, everything bright and loud, instead of dark and silent. Crowded hallway instead of a sleepy, empty one.
Up ahead there are girls, a large group of them.
All in their night clothes, their hair rumpled, faces turned away from me because they’re all looking at something.
A commotion of some kind.
There are voices and screaming and murmurs and gasps.
It takes me a moment to figure out that it’s Callie’s sweet high voice. “Can you just put that down? Is that really necessary?”
“Yeah, why are you being such a fucking bitch?” That’s Poe in her husky troublemaking voice.
“She deserves some goddamn privacy,” snaps Wyn, the soft and quiet one.
Crazily I think that it’s weird how I can tell all of them apart by just their voices. It’s a testament to the fact that I love them so much and I should go to them because they’re in trouble.
I would’ve too, if not for the nasal voice that raises itself above all else. The one that I hear in trigonometry class every week and in our one-on-one sessions.
Mrs. Miller.
“I’m being a bitch, Poe, because a student is missing.
And if a student is missing, Wyn, then she has no privacy and yes, Callie, this is absolutely necessary.
Especially when we’ve just found boxes and boxes of letters addressed to whom I can only deduce is the principal’s son.
Who also happens to be the coach. And I know that you three definitely had something to do with her disappearance.
Which means you’ll all be getting detention along with her.
The girl cops are looking for right now, Salem Salinger. ”
My name goes off in the corridor like a bomb. That grenade in the song that I’ve been humming for the past two days.
Maybe it should freeze me in my spot. Maybe it should chill me to my bones and make me pass out with shock.
But it doesn’t.
Because they’ve got my letters.
Just then a gap opens up in the huddle and I see Miller. I see her with an orange envelope, and I see her retrieving a folded page before reading, out loud, “My Darling Arrow…”
And then, the envelope in my hand, his belief in me, slips out and falls to the floor and I’m running again.
I’m running down the hallway and I realize that the thump of my feet is the loudest in this space of chaos, even louder than Miller’s nasally voice, reading out my letter.
The letter that belongs to me. The letter I wrote for him. And I need to get it back.
That’s the only thought in my mind. Get that letter back.
I realize that girls have started to turn away from Miller and focus on me. They’re gawking at me.
Gawking at the crazy girl who not only wrote these letters but was also missing. Who’s now dashing toward a teacher with red eyes, screaming, “Stop. It’s mine. It’s mine. Mine. Mine.”
But I don’t care.
I need that letter back.
It’s mine. It’s fucking mine.
I’m so close to it. So close to that piece of paper, the only thing that I can see right now, but something jars my body.
Something binds itself around my stomach and stops me in my tracks and that gets me so enraged, so angry, so devastated that I kick my feet.
I claw at the band around my waist, all the while screaming and staring at that letter, clutched within foreign fingers. “Let me go. Let me go.”
But they don’t.
They don’t let me go and that’s when the explosion hits me, the explosion that happened two days ago and the one that occurred just now.
It all hits me like an earthquake and everything goes black.