Sometimes Never (37 page)

             
Him: I’M TIRED ANYWAY. JUST GOING TO GO TO BED.

             
I frown at my phone. Even his texts are off. I don’t like the nervous sensation that runs through me, raising the hair on my arms. Too much has happened lately and it must be making me paranoid because I feel like he’s lying to me.

             
But this is Mason. He pushed this relationship. He’s been several committed steps ahead of me at all times.

             
Me: K. FEEL BEETER. LUV U. NIGHT.

             
Him: LOVE YOU TOO. GOODNIGHT.

             
I stare at the screen rereading the message a few times. Yeah. I’m paranoid. He just doesn’t feel good and this weekend sucked for sleep. He’s probably exhausted. I roll off the couch and make my way up to bed.

~***~

              As much as I’m dreading school after all the ridiculousness of the Friday night rumble, I can’t wait to see Mason. I know it was just a day, but it was long and excruciating. I miss his face. I need his always-there smile. His adorable dimple. Those gorgeous green eyes that look back at me like I’m something special.

             
I park Neko and lean back against the seat with my iPod as I wait for Mason to find me until it’s clear he isn’t coming.

             
Me: R U COMING 2 SCHOOL?

             
Him: NO. STILL NOT FEELING VERY WELL.

             
Me: THAT SUCKS. WANT ME TO COME TAKE CARE OF U?

             
Him: GO TO SCHOOL. I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW.

             
My stomach twists and my eyes prickle. He’s asked me to trust him, and I do, I want to. But something feels so off and it’s driving me crazy. My fingers move to the ignition, hesitating on the keys. Part of me wants to ignore him and turn the key, go to his house, and see for myself what’s going on. A huge part. But then that’s me not trusting him. I yank the keys out and tuck them into my book bag instead, making an active choice to believe in him.

             
Me: GET LOTS OF REST CUZ TOMORROW UR ALL MINE. SICK OR NOT! <3

             
I don’t get a response right away, so I pocket my phone and head inside. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it definitely isn’t this. People I have never spoken to stop me to ask about Guy or to wish him better. It happens in the halls. In every class. At my locker. Even in the bathroom and that is just so…past my comfort zone. Can’t a girl pee in peace? It’s weird. I don’t like people as it is. I’m feeling claustrophobic by the time I get to lunch.

             
Our table is sad with only me and Chase there. He drops an oatmeal cream pie down in front of me with a pointed look. Guess he isn’t letting that go.

             
“Where’s Park?” I ask.

             
Chase shrugs. “Home in bed, feeling sorry for himself?” He rips the plastic off his pie and takes a huge bite. “Where’s Mason?”

             
“Still sick.” I hate this day. Seriously.

             
The chair beside me slides out noisily and Adam Harris sits down. As in Christian Dunkin’s evil boy wonder, Adam Harris. Have I mentioned this day sucks?
              “What do you want, Adam?”

             
He stares at me for several extremely annoying seconds. “How’s your friend doing?”

             
I raise an eyebrow and he grins. “My friend?” Chase makes a noise across from me. My eyes flick to him and he’s watching Adam so closely it’s like he’s trying to set him on fire with his eyes. I almost explain to him that he doesn’t have laser vision, but I skip the smartass comment and turn back to the dumbass beside me.

             
“The little gay one. Heard he was in the hospital.”

             
Guy is gay, it’s well known, but the way Adam says it, he makes it sound like a big joke, which irritates me even more.

             
“He’s doing good,” I say, my words clipped.

             
He nods, leaning closer to me. “Good. Good. And Park? He got arrested, right?”

             
I’m suspicious about where he’s going with this. My eyes narrow into a warning glare. His smile widens at the look I’m giving him and it throws me off enough to answer.

             
“Yes. But he’s out.”

             
“Really? Isn’t it a hate crime? Trying to kill a homo?”

             
I know my mouth is hanging open and my face must be bright red because it’s burning.
Did he just say that?

             
“Dude, get the hell outta here,” Chase demands, his voice scary low. He stands up, hands balled into fists at his side.

             
“Hey,” Adam says defensively. “I’m just concerned. This is my school and it seems like they’ll let anybody in. Fags, attempted murderers,” he nods at Annie sitting at the next table. “Whores.” And then he looks at me. “Psychopaths.” He shrugs his broad shoulders and splays his hands out in front of him. “I’m thinking it’s time something is done about it.”

             
The smart thing is to get Chase and walk away. Go talk to a guidance counselor or something. I, however, am the first person to admit I am not smart.

             
I know I’m getting suspended again today as I push my chair back and stand. Not much else runs through my mind though. I reach back quickly and pick up somebody’s book. Who’s? I don’t know. Gripping it with both hands, I pull it above my right shoulder and swing it sideways, right into Adam’s face. His chair tips back with him still in it. As he’s lying on the floor in shock, holding his mouth, I toss the book and move in so I can kick him.

             
Bad thing about fighting during lunch, there are too many people packed too closely. I have no idea whose hands are on me, but I’m being wrenched away, my feet still trying to reach Adam.

             
“Get the fuck off her,” Chase shouts. I’m able to turn my head enough to see Christian’s profile. A nauseated shiver runs through me. I hate that he’s touching me. I squirm and wiggle, trying desperately to get out of his grasp.

             
“Calm down and I’ll let you go,” he grunts. I do. I stop immediately and he drops me in a heap onto the sticky cafeteria floor. “You need to take your crazy ass outta here before I forget you’re a girl.”

             
I don’t get a chance to respond. Mr. Andrews takes me by the arm and it’s like déjà vu as he leads me away from Christian.

41

Mason

              Today sucks almost as badly as yesterday.

             
I know I’m making the right decision. I just wish I felt a little better about it.

42

Hope

I get suspended. Obviously I don’t mind. My only regret is that I didn’t leave Adam bleeding like I had with Christian.
Is it right? Nope. I’m thoroughly aware of this. I’m also aware that I’m having yet another realization about how terrible I am. I gave Mason shit for always using his fists when he freaks out. And guess what? Yep, I do the exact same thing. I hurt myself or I hurt other people. Not necessarily with fists, my method usually involves anything other than my actual hands, but the idea’s the same.

             
I don’t want to be like this.

             
I’m staring at my laptop, my hands shaking. I can’t remember the name of the site Guy told me about, so I Google self-harm help. 79,500,000 results. Not kidding. Guess Mason was right when he said I was normal. And that is so messed up that I close my screen and shove it away. Not the normal thing. I know he meant the way I deal with things is normal and that doesn’t bother me. But that so many people hurt themselves 79,500,000 results pop up in seconds.

             
Feeling alone isn’t new to me. I spent most of my childhood alone. Loneliness and I go way back. I just haven’t felt it much since meeting Mason. With 79,500,000 search results for self-harmers, I shouldn’t be feeling alone at all right now.

             
But I’ve never felt more alone.

             
How fucked up is it that I want to cut?

             
Not enough to stop me.

             
I start for my bathroom before I have to remind myself for the 79,500,000
th
time that Mason took my razors. I do an about face and head for the kitchen. A knife will work. I stare at the knife block, deciding on a small paring blade. I take several paper towels and head to my room.

             
I sit on my bed and put the blade to my skin.

             
I’m still sitting here when I hear the bus pull up in front of the house. I’m still sitting here when I hear the front door open and close. I’m still sitting here when I hear Misty and Dylan thudding around in the kitchen.

             
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to
be
this. Not anymore.

             
I suck in a breath sharply and release it with a sob.

             
I only allow myself to cry for a few moments then I wipe my face with the paper towels and I take a deep breath.

             
If there was ever a time I needed a candy fix, it would be now. I’m talking heavy duty candy fix. Like Cow Tales and Sugar Daddy pops. Maybe even Pixie Stix.

             
Slipping the knife into my back pocket, I go down to the kitchen. “Hey,” I say to Dylan. “Where’s Misty?” I slide the knife back into its place, putting myself in the way of his view. 

             
He shrugs. “Don’t know. I’m hungry.”

             
“She rode the bus home, right?” I ask as I take a sleeve of crackers from the box and open them.

             
“Yeah. She was crying.”

             
“What?” I freeze, nearly dropping the glass I pulled out of the dishwasher. “What do you mean she was crying?”

             
“She was crying.” He looks at me like I’m an idiot.

             
“Dylan, did she get hurt?” He shrugs again and I put the empty glass on the counter and go to find Misty.

             
Sniffling makes me pause in the hallway. I step into the living room. It takes me a second to find her, sitting on the floor, her back pressed to the back of the recliner. I lower myself to sit with her.

             
“What’s up? Why are you crying?”

             
She rolls her eyes and wipes a tear off her chin. “Why were you crying?”

             
That throws me off and I turn my head. “Just had a bad day. I got suspended again.”

             
Her brows crinkle and she wipes at her face. Her confusion pauses her tears and she shakes her head. “Why?”

             
I fold my legs in front of me and run my hands across my knees. “This dude was being a huge ass. I hit him with a book.” She laughs lightly and sniffles. “So, what’s up with the tears?”

             
Misty looks at me funny again and something in her expression causes my stomach to knot. “Didn’t Mason tell you?”

             
“Tell me what?”

             
No. No. No. No. No.

             
She pushes her blonde hair out of her face. “That they’re leaving?”

             
“Leaving?” My voice barely comes out.

             
No. No. No.

             
“They’re moving back to Illinois…” she trails off as new tears run down her pink cheeks. “He didn’t tell you?”

             
“When?” I choke.

             
She shakes her head slightly. “They leave by this weekend.”
No. No. No
. “Their mom already has a job and house lined up.”
No. No. No.
“She starts Monday. They have to be there by then—”

             
“Are you sure?” I’m screaming inside.

             
Misty huffs out a harsh laugh. “Positive. Kellin told me today. He said everything’s packed.” She cries harder and I know I should hug her, comfort her in some way, but I’m selfishly counting the pieces of my heart that lie on the floor around me.

             
One for every touch.