11. Sorry Not Sorry #4
Because of my social anxiety, I’m always too scared that I’ll say the wrong thing, or that I’m not enunciating, or that I’ll make an ill-timed joke and embarrass myself. But then if I don’t talk, people can get the wrong impression and believe I’m a snob.
That’s still better than the alternative.
When I’m forced to talk to strangers and actually manage to get involved in a conversation, Blythe says I tend to ramble on and never know when to shut up.
“Do I really have to be there?” I ask, trying to mask the timidity overtaking my voice.
The reason why Derek and Vanessa get out of these things is because they assert confidence.
They declare what they want, and they’re willing to bargain and argue their way to get it.
Right about now, I’d rather get a root canal than endure the stress of a dinner as crucial as this.
I already know I’m going to mess up, and if anything goes wrong for my dad, I’ll be up Shit Creek without a paddle.
“You know I’m not good in those situations, and it’ll be one less thing for you to worry about if I’m not there,” I add.
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker already know about your ankle. How do you think that reflects on us if you are here but can’t bother yourself to come downstairs to greet our guests?” says Blythe, not needing an answer.
I get as far as opening my mouth before she turns on her heels, cutting me off with a reiteration to be ready by six.
“She’s a real peach,” Jase huffs a heartbeat after Blythe’s footsteps become inaudible. “And not a particularly good judge of character either. Senator Walker is a fucking creep.”
To my horror, Jase hauls himself through the window and climbs inside !
“No, you have to go.” I don’t care that I’m pleading rather than ordering, hopelessly tugging at his arm as if I’m physically capable of forcing him back out the way he came.
Jase barks out an exhausted laugh, his chest rising and falling as fast and heavy as mine. “Yeah, I just ran three miles straight. I’m not going anywhere until I catch my breath. So unless you want me passing out in the middle of your yard, I’m staying right where I am.”
True to his word, he slides down the wall and sits beside the vent, allowing the cool air from the A/C to blow at his face.
He stays like that for several heartbeats before his expression gives way to curiosity.
He abruptly leans under my desk and plucks up what I realize is a sticky note stuck to the underside of the keyboard drawer.
Crap!
Even from here, I can see the black sharpie ink scribbled across the yellow paper. The exertion from our run already has me flushed, so the blood that floods my face likely now has me turning into the color of Elmo. I contemplate tackling Jase to get it away from him before he can read it—
But I already know I’m too late as that curious look he’s sporting morphs into downright confusion.
“You write to yourself ?” He flips the note over between his fingers, revealing the damning message.
Dear Me,
You are in charge of your own happiness. Make today count.
Sincerely,
Me
I snatch it from him far too quickly to appear unruffled, but my dignity was left behind in the rearview mirror long ago. “It’s part of my therapy,” I mumble.
His eyebrows lift at this. “Oh?”
“It’s to help with my social anxiety. The therapist ordered me to write words of encouragement for myself every day, so anytime I have to do something stressful, I can just pull it out and read it for support.”
This only makes him appear more confused. “You’ve never been anxious around me . Or if you have, you hide it really well.”
This, at least, makes me smile. “Yeah, I’m generally the worst when it comes to introductions, and with the whole bird attack, I really didn’t have time to think about how you perceived me. I was more concerned about having my eyes plucked out.”
“And I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
I roll my eyes. “You only say that because you haven’t witnessed me in the wild. Put me in a crowded room or face-to-face with a stranger, I turn into a deer caught in headlights.”
“Not buying it.” He hooks a finger in the belt loop of my shorts and tugs me down beside him. “You’ll have to prove me wrong.”
“Meaning what ?”
Jase removes a folded glossy paper from his pants pocket, not bothering to open it up. The colorful print is a dead giveaway.
The flyer for the party tonight.
He nudges his knee against mine, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Come with me.”
“Did you not just hear my stepmom?”
“You haven’t asked your dad yet, though.”
When all I can offer is a blank look, Jase actually laughs. He takes my phone and pulls up my dad’s number, his finger hovering over the CALL button. “Your parents want you to become more socialized, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“And you don’t really hang around people your own age?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then just ask him to go to the party. Your dad seems like a pretty chill guy for the most part. If anything, he’ll probably be happy that you even want to go.”
“But Blythe already said I have to be here for dinner.”
“You really are new to this, aren’t you?” He has the nerve to grin, like I’m somehow being silly. “Oh, my little Birdie. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us if I have any hope of corrupting you into becoming a legitimate teenager.”
Before I can rebut, he hits the CALL button, and the phone starts ringing. Jase holds it out of my reach so I can’t hang it up, only bringing it back after my dad answers.
You’d think I’m about to rob a bank with the nerves flooding my system, which seems ridiculous, because all I’m doing is telling the truth.
There’s a party tonight I want to go to, and since I supposedly hurt my ankle over two weeks ago, it wouldn’t be unprecedented for someone to see me back on my feet.
I don’t want to mention that Blythe wants me here for dinner, but not doing so seems underhanded.
Jase rolls his eyes because, yeah, I apparently wasn’t supposed to add that.
Still, I hold my breath as I await the verdict…
Which comes all too easily. “That should be fine,” my dad says. “Just make sure you’re back home by ten.”
A good solid minute passes after the call has ended, but the phone seems stuck to my ear as I just sit there in shock.
He agreed.
My dad actually agreed!
Jase finally reaches over, takes the cell from my hand, and replaces it with the sticky note, all the while grinning at me. “Ready to live up to your own words?”
You are in charge of your own happiness.
The idea of loud music, of so many strangers, of a million different ways I could potentially embarrass myself… I’m admittedly scared.
But I also find myself smiling.
With Jase at my side, maybe this won’t be so bad.
He puts his arm over my shoulder, hauls me up next to him, and presses a kiss into my temple. We sit like that for a few minutes, relishing the cool air from the vent as our breathing finally returns to normal. My eyes draw shut…
…until a sharp bang! echoes from what sounds like the foyer. Several seconds later, heels clack and stomp up the stairs.
Crap!
My bedroom door is still open; even if it wasn’t, there wouldn’t be enough time for Jase to climb out the window. Hell, he barely manages to scramble over to the closet, sliding inside and shutting the door behind himself not a second before my stepmom comes storming into view.
Rage pours off of her, but she doesn’t start yelling.
Blythe slams my bedroom door shut so hard the hinges rattle, the silence only proving to unsettle me further.
I climb up to my feet, instinctively recoiling as she stalks towards me.
Not until I find myself pinned into the corner does she finally stop, her five inches in height over me suddenly feeling like feet.
The air is cleaved from my lungs and my knees nearly give out from sheer panic as she seizes hold of my jaw, forcing my body into the wall. Her thumb and fingers press into my skin so hard the bone beneath hurts, but I don’t dare move.
“I will only tell you this once,” she sneers, her voice so low I’m not even sure if Jase can hear her.
“If you ever go over my head again, you will find your life around here won’t be so pleasant.
The last I checked, Camp Zurich hasn’t yet started, and I’m sure they will be more than happy to make room for you again. ”
I try to control the shaking ravaging my body, but she’s too close not to feel it.
“You will be at dinner tonight, and if your father asks, you changed your mind about going out,” she adds, her voice growing unnervingly polite, as easily as slipping on a mask. “I would hate having to waste calling in a favor to get you enrolled in St. Vincent’s for the fall.”
No.
She couldn’t actually do that…
Could she?
If rumors are true, St. Vincent’s is an institution for “troubled youths” flimsily disguised as a boarding school.
Any of the flushness I had in my cheeks not a minute ago drains. Hell, I’m not even sure if there’s any blood left in my body, because all of me goes cold.
She releases her grip on my jaw and oh-so-casually saunters back to my door, opens it, and struts off down the hall. “Bethany,” she coos upon answering her cell, her breezy demeanor sounding as if she had just been discussing nothing more than the weather with me.
I don’t move, even as her footsteps fade away. Only when the closet door eases open do I bother turning my head, but it’s away from Jase’s assessing stare.
He couldn’t see the interaction from where he was, and there’s a sickly combination of shame and frailty rooting me in place.
My entire body feels numb, save for the sting of phantom fingers still pressing into my jaw and the spasm trying so hard to wrench a sob out of my lungs.
I have to hold my breath to keep it at bay, but my eyes betray me.
Tears pour from them, and all I can focus on is Jase.