55. Noah
Noah
I’ve called Payton six times. Texted her more times than that.
Nothing. Not even a read receipt. I need to keep my brain occupied.
I can’t sing. I can’t listen to music. I can barely breathe.
Omen and the gang are on my ass. For Christ’s sake, my grandfather just passed away, and Charlie is gone, and they will not let me breathe.
By the time the sun starts to go down, I can’t sit still anymore. I lock up the record store and drive toward campus. I still remember the dorm building number. It takes me a good five minutes to navigate the building and find the floor number. I knock on the door. Nothing. I try again, louder.
“Payton, it’s me,” I call out. “Open up.”
Still nothing.
I start pounding harder until I hear movement inside, slow and heavy. The door creaks open a few inches. She stands there in an oversized sweatshirt, her eyes red and puffy, hair tangled. The air that drifts out smells like she hasn’t left the room in days.
“Jesus,” I say softly. “You okay?”
She shakes her head. “No,” then the tears came.
A full-blown waterfall of tears where it looks like it’s made her entire cheeks raw and sore.
The room behind her is dark except for the glow from her laptop screen.
Clothes are scattered on the floor, with an untouched cup of noodles on the desk. I step inside.
“When’s the last time you showered?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t even get up to go to class.”
“Have you even eaten?”
Her voice cracks. “No...”
“Laundry?”
“Stop! I haven’t. Not since...” She trails off, eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s all my fault. Charlie’s missing. Ryder’s never going to forgive me.” She rushes back into the dorm room, and I follow behind her, closing the door.
I blink. “Payton...” she crumbles onto her sheets. Hot pink sheets with... are those Disney princesses? I run a hand down my face as she cuddles with her pillow, sobbing into it. Snot all over her nose.
“No, you don’t get it,” she snaps suddenly, “He came to my parents’ house. He was furious. Said I lied to him, that I made everything worse. He’s right. I should’ve told him the truth about what happened. About Brody. About everything. I’ve lied to everyone!”
I take a breath, steadying my tone. I’m only understanding bits of what she says. “You sitting here starving yourself isn’t helping anyone.”
She looks up, eyes shining with tears. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand enough,” I say quietly, grabbing her hand. “The girl I’m in love with isn’t here! She isn’t fucking here! I need something, someone! You're the closest person to her. I fucking need you right now!”
“You need me?” She laughs between the sobs.
“You don’t even know me!” She reaches for her phone on the nightstand.
“Look! Look at this!” She points to her phone with hundreds of missed calls.
“See, look. This is what Brody does to people! This is what he’s doing to me.
” She opens her phone and shows me the text messages she got.
“I fucking hate him! That’s what he’s done to Charlie! ” She heaves out a sob again.
“Fine...” I dig through my back pocket pulling my own phone out and unlocking the screen. “He did it to me too! Look!” I push it into her hands, showing her the writing on the stall door.
“He...he..” Payton uses the back of her hand to wipe away the slobber and snot on her nose.
“Yes, she broke it off with me because he forced her to.” I motion with my fingers for her to give my phone back. “Let me see your phone.”
She passes it over, and I scroll through the messages from random unsaved numbers.
All saying similar things. That they wanna have sex with her, that they know she's easy, that she's a slut.
Some of them get so vulgar about what they want to do to her.
Some text messages called her ugly trash and said that she should hang herself.
“I’ve been getting them for weeks!”
“So you’re saying Charlie might have got these too?”
“He stalked her all summer long!”
“Okay lets get out of bed... this isn’t healthy.” I grasp her wrist, but she tugs it away. She resists for a second, but I’m easily able to pull her up from the bed. She’s light – too light.
“Why are you touching me!”
“You’re taking a damn shower,” I tell her. “You need to clean up. Then we’re getting food.”
I dragged her out of the dorm room. She doesn’t argue after that, so I wait outside the bathroom while the water runs. When she comes out, her hair’s dripping and her cheeks are pink, but she looks a little more like herself.
“Hungry now?”
She nods, and we leave the campus. We end up at this small burger shack, the kind with flickering neon lights and greasy tables. It’s quiet, with just a few people inside, and for once, I’m grateful for the noise of the fryer instead of silence.
We order burgers and fries, and I dip mine into the paper ketchup bowl, trying to pretend for a second that things are normal. Payton just stares at her food like she’s forgotten how to eat.
After a while, she grabs the burger, and I’ve never seen someone open their mouth that wide to take in a mouthful. She chews, groaning as mayo smears across the sides of her cheeks.
“You think she’s dead, don’t you?” Payton asks between chews.
My hand freezes midair. “What?”
“Charlie,” she whispers. “I keep thinking... Maybe she’s dead. Maybe that’s why no one can find her.” Her lip trembles, grabbing a brown napkin from the little back bin. “I’m scared she is.”
“Stop,” I say sharply. The word comes out harder than I mean it to, but I can’t listen to that. Not tonight. “How many days now since the concert?”
“It’s been sixteen days.”
“Fuck! Seriously, it’s been that long?” God I’m drowning in time, not even paying attention. She blinks at me, startled. “We don’t know anything yet,” I say, softer this time. “Don’t talk like that. You can’t.”
Her eyes fill again. “I just...”
I cut in gently, leaning across the table.
“Right now you’re gonna eat, and you’re gonna hand over your phone.
We are changing your number and you're deleting all of your social media. All of it.” I take a deep breath and she mimics me, nodding.
“You need to get it together right now, okay? I know you’re hurt.
I know Ryder hurt you too. But if he’s gonna come around, he will. ”
She looks down at her burger as onions and lettuce slide slowly out of the greasy bun. She bites down again with tears streaming down her eyes.
I take another breath. “Right now, I just don’t want to be alone. I miss her,” my voice cracks a little. “You’re the closest thing to Charlie. I just need a friend who gets it.”
“You wanna be friends?” Her eyes get blubbery with tears again. I can tell she knows I’m not saying it to use her. It’s just the truth. I seriously need a friend. We sit there in silence for a while and she finally finishes her burger and starts chowing down on her fries.
The metal bleachers are cold beneath me, even through my jeans.
I take another swig from the flask hidden in the center pocket of my hoodie.
The rum burns down my throat, and I hear that whisper in my ear telling me to stop but I ignore it.
If the holy spirit wants to talk it can start with apologizing.
I start feeling the rum. I’m warm and it's spreading everywhere. I’m buzzed but it’s not the loose, happy kind.
It’s the heavy one. The kind that sits in your chest and whispers all the worst thoughts you try to drown.
I should stop, but all I do is take another swig.
Payton’s been out there for almost two hours, running drills and routines under the stadium lights.
I didn’t think I ever realized how brutal cheer practice actually was until now.
She’s been flipping, yelling counts, getting tossed in the air, and every time she hits the ground again, she looks like she’s ready to drop. But she doesn’t. She keeps going.
And me? I just sit here, drunk, too empty to play, too hollow to sing. My throat still hurts. I haven’t touched a guitar this week. My fingers ache as if they’re punishing me for not trying. I take another drink. The bleachers creak when I lean back, staring up at the cloudy dark sky.
By the time practice ends, Payton’s hair is sticking to her neck, her cheeks flushed pink, her clothing damp from sweat.
She looks exhausted but alive. Something I haven’t felt in weeks.
She jogs over, grabbing her water bottle from the bench.
“You’ve been here this whole time?” she asks between breaths.
“Yeah,” I say, stuffing the flask back into my hoodie. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be. I mean, I do, but I don’t want to sing right now.”
“But isn’t singing what you love doing? I mean if you don’t want to sing, maybe the girls can teach you some moves.”
I grin weakly. “I’d rather die.”
“Yeah, I see that. Are you okay?”
“I dunno honestly,” I say. “You wanna go grab food or something? Walk around? Just... not think for a bit?”
She hesitates. “I’ve got a ton of homework to catch up on, but... yeah. I can hang for a little while.”
“Cool,” I say. Then she squints at me.
“Have you been drinking?” She asks, pointing her eyes at the flask that’s hanging out of my pocket.
“Maybe a little.”
“Maybe?” She gives me that unimpressed look. “You smell like a frat house.”
“Then maybe you should drive,” I tease, standing up and stretching and I slip on the bleacher, falling on my ass. “Ahh fuck.”
“You good?” She asks.
“Yep.”
“So funny thing about the driving...”
“You’ve hit more cars than mine on the highway?” I lay on the step of the bleacher like a dead fish.
“No... umm..” She bites her bottom lip and cringes at me as she says it. “I don’t have a license.”
I groan, taking the flash out and taking another swig. “Wait, seriously?”