Candi’s Chapter
Andrew hasn't logged onto MySpace tonight, and I'm missing our nightly talks. My night feels so empty without his username moving across my computer monitor. I continuously check my phone for missed calls or unanswered texts, but he's giving me nothing.
I stare at his number in my contacts, contemplating whether or not I should text him.
I run the pads of my fingers over the numbers on my keypad, and rehearse the same apology out loud.
“I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't mean to hurt you…” The numbers click softly as I type.
“I've been hurt so many times, and I'm just afraid of it happening again…” That sounds so pathetic.
The words are deleted from the screen faster than I typed them out.
He doesn't look at me today, and my heart sinks as I wait for his quick, sneaky glances that never come. Andrew walks into first period with his friend Rayne and immediately sits down quietly at his desk. He slides his notebook out of his bag and silently lays it down on the tan surface.
“Good morning, Andy…” I wait for an answer, a sigh, anything but he only turns to our last page of notes and rips it from the perforated edge.
He looks ahead and balls up the page in his hand before getting up and throwing it away in the small navy trash can near the door in the front of the room. Ouch.
No notes were passed in history. Not only were there no notes, but there also weren't any smiles, flirty looks my way, or any doodles in the side margins. History class was just that… history and nothing more.
When the bell rings, Andrew grabs his things and hastily makes his way to the door. I want to call out to him, to make him notice me, but alarm signals go off in my head when I think about touching his arm. Would he look at me if I tried? He'd probably shake me loose and continue walking.
The rest of the day drags on; I count the hours until I get to leave this place and go home.
Unfortunately, it's only lunchtime, and I still have three more hours until freedom.
Andrew and his friends sit at the table on the other side of the cafeteria.
If I keep my seat, I can see him eating his school pizza entree and talking with Rayne and Seth.
Look at me, please. If only for a second…
Andrew looks up as if he could feel me mentally begging. He doesn't look angry, sad, upset, just… empty. I want to go to him, to talk to him, but I'm stopped, not only by my lack of impulse, but by my best friend, who interrupts my gawking.
“Do you know what's better than staring at each other like fucking creeps? Actually talking to each other like normal people.” Brittany gives Andy a teasing wave while biting the corner of a French fry.
“I tried this morning, and he ignored me.”
“Why? The guy is still clearly obsessed with you.”
I let out a long sigh before I begin. “He asked me if we could be us but in front of everyone else…” I pause, loudly biting down on a celery stick.
“He asked to be official, and you turned him down?”
“Not exactly in those words…but yes.”
“What did you tell him?” She moves in closer and rests her elbows on the table.
“I told him I wasn't ready and that everything was moving so fast.”
“That's understandable. You just broke things off with Zane…”
“Is it though? I've talked to him every night, snuck him into my room, and hung out with him in his car. I'm telling him it's too fast to hold hands in public…”
“He just wants to hold your hand?!” Britt practically squeals before covering her face with her hands. “That's the fucking cutest thing I've ever heard!”
“I made a huge mistake…”
“Uh… Yeah, you did. Who the hell cares if you're ready for labels? What's handholding anyway?! Just give in to the guy…”
“Well, what if I'm too late?”
“If Scary Andy is looking at you like he wants to kiss your feet, then babe, it's not too late.”
“Don't call him that…”
“Candi, you can't tell me that man doesn't have a face that says he would murder someone.”
He's standing alone at his locker now. Maybe, if I can get him alone before he leaves, he'll listen to me.
Andrew stuffs papers in his bookbag as well as a textbook, a notebook, and a few pencils.
It's finally the end of the day, and he's getting ready to leave.
Now's my chance to say something. That is, if he'll talk to me before he makes his way out to his car.
I slam my locker shut, but the chatter from the other students drowns out the sound. My fingers tightly curl around my straps; I take one deep breath before I sprint to Andrew’s locker. Come on, Candi. You can do this.
“Need something?” His harsh tone matches the intense sound of his zipper fastening the biggest pocket in his bag. At this moment, I couldn’t care less. He's talking to me.
“Can we talk? Please?”
“If you can bear to be seen with me in public, walk with me to my car. Make it fast. I'm going to Rayne's for practice.”
“You don't have practice on Thursdays…”
“When I have a gig in two days, I do. What do you want, Candi?” My name is sharp on his tongue, but I deserve all of the painful cuts he sends my way.
“I want to talk about what I wrote…”
“Save it. I know you're not ready to be with a guy like me.”
“That's not fair, it's not like that…”
“No? What is it then?” Andy faces me, his expression filled with anger.
He's never looked at me like this before.
I absolutely hate it. It feels like a thousand daggers are puncturing my chest; the pain won't stop.
He's no longer walking, and I almost run into him when he stops.
My body instantly freezes when he looks at me.
“I-I…” I can't find the words; they're tangled in my head like knotted-up shoestrings.
“If I looked like any of those guys on the football team, you'd make no hesitation to tell everyone about us!”
“What?! You think I'm that superficial?!”
“No?! Then what the hell is it? Just fucking tell me? I tried to avoid you all day so you can figure out whatever it is you want, but instead you won't leave me the hell alone!”
“I'm… I'm just afraid of getting hurt again. We're going so fast and… it scares me…”
“You think I would hurt you? I fucking worship the ground you walk on and everyone at this fucking school knows it!” Frustration now mixes with the anger that still shows on his handsome face when he runs his fingers through his undone, faded pink and ebony mohawk.
“Tell me one more thing before I leave,” I nod, shocked at his words he admits out loud.
No one has ever told me that before. I stand there clueless while he throws his bag into his trunk.
“Are you afraid of going too fast, or is it me? Are you afraid of going too fast with me?”
I swallow a heavy knot in my throat. It is him.
He makes me feel so many things, but his obsession is like nothing I've felt before.
I want to tell him otherwise, but he can see through my transparent mask.
“Yeah… that's exactly what I thought.” The sound of his trunk slamming into its latch can be heard in the mostly vacant lot.
It sends a chill through me, making me jump in my skin.
“Go back to your life of pep rallies, poms poms, and cheating assholes, Candi.”
“Andy, please. Just listen to me…”
“You don't get to call me that anymore! I'm not your Andy. I'm just fucking Scary Andrew Miller to you and everyone else!”
“You're not that… It's not like that with me, and you know it!”
“No, Candi. That's just it. I don't. Being with you has been like a fucking whirlwind of mixed feelings. You want me only when we're alone so you can use me to wipe your tears, but when we're in public, you act like you don't know me! Face the fucking facts. I'm not Zane, and I never will be.”
“I don't want him…”
“No? Then tell me. Tell me when we're not behind a screen that you want me! Say it loud enough that everyone can hear you…” His leather jacket squeezes tightly on his arms when he crosses them on his chest. “I'm all ears, Candi.”
“I do want you, Andy…” Why is this so difficult? “I want to be with you. I just got out of a relationship…”
“Maybe you should've thought about that before you cried to me online or before you invited me over to fuck you in your bed.” I know it's what happened, but it hurts to hear out loud.
“You can tell me that you love me when we're alone, but you're embarrassed to admit it to everyone else.
Go to your cheer practice and delete our chats.
It's easy to see that you mean everything to me and I mean shit to you…”
“Th-that's not true…” My tears have a mind of their own as they stream down my cheeks. He doesn't look back and climbs into the driver's seat. His car is loud when he turns on his ignition and speeds off out of the parking lot.
The wide grin I try to paint on my face is a facade while I do my best to fake it through cheer practice. With every routine, the same cadence I've memorized is replaced with his words; no matter how hard I try, I can't muffle out his words with the rehearsed chants.
Why couldn't I say the words? What would be so wrong with admitting them out loud? The words vibrate in my thoughts to the point where I could sing them on repeat. I love Andrew Miller. But why does it feel like the speakers are shorting out when I try to say them for the rest of the world to hear?
The girls’ locker room seems colder today.
The brisk air from the winter wind bites my skin even through two layers of clothing and my coat.
I don't look forward to walking home in this freezing cold air, and Britt had to miss practice today, so I don't have a ride home.
My phone feels like ice in my hand as I scan over my messages; there is a painful reminder that Andy isn't waiting for me anymore.
Pulling up his number in my contacts only brings back memories of hundreds of MySpace and text messages, passing notes in class, and two amazing nights alone with him.
I wish I could take it all back and everything go back to the way it was.
Stray snowflakes come in through the side entrance when a group of three cheerleaders follow behind one another, opening the door for each other.
The frigid air makes me hug my coat tighter around my body.
There's no way I can walk home. Andy's number stays highlighted in my list of numbers as I contemplate calling him.
Would he pick me up from practice? If he gave in, would he talk to me?
I let my impulsive thoughts win and immediately put the phone up to my ear as soon as I hit the green phone button on the row of keys.
My toe taps on the tile in anticipation of the sound of his never-ending ring.
What made me think he'd answer? He's at practice, remember?
Not to mention, once he sees my number, I'm sure he'll immediately ignore my call.
No answer. I'm not surprised, but it feels like an ache in my chest that just won't go away.
I don't know why I thought there was a chance he would answer.
I try to call my house phone, but unfortunately, I know the outcome.
My father is most likely passed out on the couch, and my mother is already in bed or taking one of her me-time baths with a glass of wine next to the tub.
Once again, the phone continuously rings until I reach the answering machine. I have no one.
Reluctantly, I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder before bracing myself for the harsh cold.
I feel my body start to grow tense as I mentally prepare for my walk home.
I don't want to do this, but what choice do I have?
It's either walk or stay stranded at the school until morning.
I force my way to the exit as I slide my fuzzy light blue gloves over my already chilled fingers, that is, until I hear his voice echo in the hall behind me.
“Do you need a ride?” Zane’s tone is like an annoying gnat buzzing in my eardrum. It doesn't matter how many times I try to shoo him away; he always comes back.
“No, I'm okay. I’d rather walk.” I take one more step closer to the door with my fingers almost caressing the metal handle.
“Are you sure? It's like negative twenty degrees out there.”
“I'm sure…” The strap slowly slides down my shoulder, and I do my best to shift my weight so I can support my heavy bag.
“Come on, Candi! Are you seriously going to walk instead of letting me drive you home?” I can hear his aggravation in the way he struts closer.
“That was the plan.” He's toe to toe with me now, and he looks down at me with his chocolate colored eyes. He's always made me feel so small, and tonight is no exception.
Zane sighs as he takes my cumbersome strap off my shoulder.
“Don't be like that. Let me take you home.
I won't try anything. I know we're done. I-I just want to make sure you get home safe… I’ll even get you a coffee on the way.” The last thing I want to do is be anywhere near him.
I'm still hurt by what he did, and I can't shake the memory of seeing him with someone else while we were together.
However, when I spot the size of the snowflakes sticking to the sidewalk and the dark asphalt in the parking lot, my decision wavers.
“Okay.”
“Okay? You mean you'll let me drive you home?” Why is he so eager to help me? How does he not see that I'm still so angry with him?
“Yes. You can buy me a coffee and drive me home, but that's it…” He raises his hands in surrender while wearing his usual smug smile. The navy leather from his letterman jacket fits limply around his big wrists.
“That's all I'm asking for…” I'm full of suspicion when he walks in front of me, pushing the door open wide enough to let me walk ahead of him.
“Just coffee and home,” I repeat as he closes the door behind me.