Chapter 9 #2
It felt like I was drowning, like the lack of control I had over my own life was taking me under.
My mom was gone.
Scott was a stranger to me.
And my own friends had left me.
My one night of fun in Meadow Grove got me grounded, and I couldn’t hack it.
Dreux seemed so confident, and then I remembered his words from Friday night before I’d left for the bowling alley.
He reached out and tapped my knee, trying to appear cheerful. “I’m not going to let you drown out here.”
“Give me…some type of literary quote to let me know it’ll all be okay,” I asked of him.
Dreux took me in, his face awash in that serious expression he seemed to always have with me. “Steinbeck, ‘To be alive at all is to have scars.’ Live and learn, Saylor, don’t let anyone or any experience break you.”
His words took me back to the moment I was on the mechanical bull, where I’d beaten the odds and stayed afloat.
I could do this.
I’d lived through the crash in LA, and I’d managed to beat the bull.
Whatever came at me next, I was almost positive that I could beat it too. Scott, Angela, anything.
“Thank you,” I breathed out.
Dreux offered a half smile as he rose to his full height and extended his hand to help me up. “School?”
“Yeah, let’s get that over with,” I said.
Dreux chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Feeling slightly better, I nudged Dreux as we walked side by side back to his Bronco. “Does this mean you’re going to change the station now?”
Dreux snorted. “Nope. We’re not about to listen to that country yeehaw shit. Nobody wants to listen to a guy whine about his tractor and sister.”
I narrowed my eyes. “First of all, you uncultured swine, fuck you and your outdated insult. Second, I am a rock music connoisseur.”
We made it to the Bronco, and over the hood of the car, Dreux’s eyes met mine and he smiled at me.
“Apology accepted,” he said.
I had been a little shit to him from the beginning. “Right, I’m sorry.”
He bobbed his head. “Truce?”
“It’s not like I have a choice, you’re my ride,” I teased as I got in the car.
Dreux got in beside me and kept with his stance on not changing from the rap station.
This time as we began driving for school, the atmosphere was less charged and I felt less trapped.
“Who is your favorite musician?” I wondered above the rap that was still playing.
“It’s a tie between John Mayer or Jeff Buckley,” Dreux answered.
It was such an original answer, I wasn’t sure if he were bullshitting me or not. “For real?”
Dreux shrugged. “I like how John plays guitar and the sound of his voice. Jeff was just elite without saying.”
I liked his answer. Especially when I thought of the fact that Dreux had a guitar at home too.
It was when he glanced at me that I realized I was staring.
I looked away and noticed the fuzzy basketballs hanging from his rearview mirror.
“You play?” I asked.
Dreux shook his head. “No, but my dad always wanted me to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Truth?”
“Yeah.”
“Not tall enough and no interest.”
“How tall are you?”
“Six-foot-two, give or take an inch or two.” We were back in town and near the school when Dreux pulled up to a red light.
“When I was five my dad gave me a ball, and my mom gave me a book.” He got this look on his face as he peered off into the distance.
“All the other guys around here, they took up sports right away, and here was my mom offering me something different. It’s like Robert Frost and the road less traveled, you know? ”
I was beginning to like his little literary knowledge. “So why baseball?”
“My dad loves basketball, football, and sometimes soccer too during the World Cup. Baseball isn’t his thing.
” Dreux began driving again. “Scott taught me, and I liked it enough to play in middle school. When you’re Black, it’s sort of a rite of passage to play football or basketball.
Not much choice either. I honestly wouldn’t play anything if I didn’t at least enjoy baseball. ”
It was an interesting background, one that made me question some of the guys I knew from back home. Did White guys have this same feat of being forced into sports from the time they were young?
All my friends were into music.
Even still, I felt bad for Dreux.
I snatched the basketballs from the mirror and tossed them out the window as Dreux pulled into the student parking lot.
He chuckled beside me. “Better be happy Rick isn’t around to see that.”
Deputy Rick St. Julien, his cousin. “Right. That make you the narc Bonham says you are?”
Gone was Dreux’s humor. “Nah.”
Whatever underlying feud that was brewing between Bonham and Dreux could wait for another day.
Instead, I was piqued by the last two songs that had played on the radio. One provided a dancehall sound, reminding me of my mom’s friends back home, and the other song had an old school blues vibe to it that was easy to vibe to.
“Dreux,” I said, gaining his attention once he’d parked. “Those last two songs were actually pretty good. What’s their names?”
Dreux unbuckled his seat belt before tossing me a clever smile. “Not a chance.”
It wasn’t until he was out of the car and walking away from me that I realized he was going to hold out on me for my being fussy earlier.
Ugh.
I groaned and got out of the car, slamming his door shut to be extra pissy. I didn’t need him, if I thought really hard, I could just Google the lyrics.
The two rap songs went into the background as I spotted Bonham and his crew lounging around the school fountain. His friends were taking turns tossing candy in the air and catching it with their mouths as he laid back smoking a cigarette.
Bonham perked up at the sight of me approaching him.
“She awakens.” He stood, going and pulling out a mini sign from his jacket that read I’m sorry.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s my fault. I knew what I was doing.”
Bonham slugged my shoulder. “I don’t text apologies. I like to do them in person. I would’ve come by, but your old man hates me. I’m glad you’re okay.”
It was hard to believe people hated this guy when he spoke like he did. I respected his stance on face-to-face apologies, a lot of guys would’ve just taken the easy way out with a simple text.
“No harm, no foul,” I said. It wasn’t like anything happened beyond our dancing and kissing. Which reminded me… I eyed him. “And for the record, I do remember everything.”
Bonham smirked. “As do I, and I recall nothing happened, but if you—”
“I meant about what you said regarding Cameron.”
The smirk washed away instantly. “I say a lot of stupid shit about Cameron when I’m drunk.”
“This wasn’t stupid shit. You’re into her.”
Annoyance covered his face now. “I’ll tell them you’re starting shit.”
“I’m not here to rat you out,” I assured him. “I think you two would be a better fit. Aidan’s—”
“My brother. You don’t cross family, Saylor. Not even for the girl of your dreams.”
“You are such a disappointment on the Bad Boy Scale.” Everyone acted like he was this huge devil worshipping pariah, and yet, he wasn’t bad at all. He smoked, he drank, and he had fun, but what other teenager didn’t do these things?
Hell, he hadn’t even let me walk the streets by myself because I’d been tipsy.
“Speak for yourself,” Bonham replied. “You’re not such a badass either.”
“Excuse me?” Now I felt defensive.
“You had your mind made up about me as soon as that slip about Cameron came out of me. We didn’t hook up because of her and you know it.”
I owed Cameron no loyalty, but Bonham was right. The mention of his crush had killed the mood for me.
Bonham read my answer on my face and went on. “You don’t even know that girl and yet you’re not willing to bed me. Talk about disappointment.”
“We would’ve had fun,” I admitted.
Bonham wiggled his brows at me. “It’s not too late.”
He couldn’t have Cameron, so he settled for what he could take.
I didn’t want him to have to settle, and I didn’t want to be a person someone had to settle for. Everyone deserved to be wanted, genuinely.
Across the quad I caught Cameron walking with her arm looped through Aidan’s as she met up with Vanity and a few of their other friends. Cameron’s lively demeanor even radiated from our slight distance.
Who wouldn’t fall for a girl like her?
I faced Bonham. “They’re all wrong about you.”
He didn’t seem convinced. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, they think they know you because you smoke and like to have fun, but that doesn’t give them a right to judge you and label you because you don’t fit into their neat little boxes. You’re not shit, you’re not lousy, and you’re not bad. You’re actually a pretty nice guy.”
Bonham clutched his chest. “You’re ruining my rep.”
“Fuck your rep, I’m serious,” I told him. Maybe Dreux’s optimism was rubbing off on me. “Even if you can’t get Cameron, you can and deserve another Cameron. Don’t settle, it’s not worth it. Chasing her in other girls will only leave you high and dry.”
Bonham ruminated on my words before lighting up another cigarette. “Thanks, Professor Stanley.”
He wasn’t ready, but that was okay.
Hell, I wasn’t ready or prepared in any aspect of my life either.
I was about to go when he called from behind me.
“For what it’s worth,” Bonham began. “They’re wrong about you, too. You’re a nice girl, Saylor.”
I tipped my head toward him before making my way for the nearest entrance, all the while wondering the validity of his words.