Ten Things

Ch.21-Starts With Goodbye

Grace

Saturday Tiffany managed to persuade me into hanging out with her. My mother was all fine with it. My dad was still sulking around a bit, but he didn't seem to care, either. Tiffany took me back to the mall, and we sat in the food court eating french fries and cheeseburgers and talking about anything that came to mind. I hadn't gone to school the whole rest of the week, as a result of a sudden onslaught of sickness. I had always had a terrible immune system.

"So how's life?" she asked after we had exhausted all areas of conversation. She slurped at her milkshake while I picked at my remaining fries.

I smiled. "Life is good."

She flashed me a cheeky grin. "Of course it is, because you're with me." I shook my head.

"You're bizarre, Tiffany," I said to her.

She gasped. "Bizarre? Why, Halo, I do believe that's the meanest thing you've ever said to me!"

My smile grew. "It's a good kind of bizarre, Tif."

"Oh, well as long as it's good."

I flicked my fry at her. She laughed, picked it up, and ate it, regardless that it had landed on the floor.

Tiffany gathered our trash and tossed it into the garbage can beside us. She spotted somebody behind me and her face twisted into a deep scowl. Uh-oh. That was never good, and there was usually only one person that provoked such a reaction.

"Grace, I think she has made it her life goal to make your life hell," Tiffany muttered, eyes narrowing in distaste. "I think you should consider a restraining order."

My shoulders slumped. "Why can't she leave me alone? I don't understand why she has to do this. I've done nothing to her!"

"In Margaret's deranged mind you have," she sneered. "This ought to be good. Brace yourself; she looks more stupid and insecure than usual."

God keep my patience, I prayed silently, and then I heard her.

"Well look who it is. Didn't think I'd find you two among civilization."

Well that was wrong and didn't make a whole lot of sense. "We are human," I replied quietly. "We don't live in caves."

"Could have fooled me."

I prided myself in being kind and patient and understanding to all people, but Margaret pushed me in a way I couldn't control. Having something against me after I had done something wrong was one thing, but having some personal vendetta against me when I did nothing to her? That was just unfair. "Can you please leave us in peace?"

She snorted as if my request was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. I noted that she had her friend with her. I thought her name was Lauren. She seemed nicer but a tad under Margaret's spell. That wasn't a whole lot better.

"Really, Margaret. If bugging us is the highlight of your day then you really need to get a hobby," Tiffany spat. "It's just getting sad now."

Margaret didn't seem pleased, but she said nothing. There was a determined glint in her eye, as if she wanted to tell me something but was savoring the taste of it on her tongue. That made me nervous.

She pulled up a chair and sat at our table, smiling wickedly between us. Tiffany and I exchanged glances. Nobody said anything.

"How do you think I should tell her?" Margaret spoke up suddenly, her question directed to her friend.

"Just come right out with it, I guess," Lauren muttered, inspecting her nails. "Either way it's gonna be a sucker punch."

I flitted my gaze between the two. What were they talking about?

"It's a real shame Cole isn't here to witness this," Margaret pouted. "He would have loved it so."

"Margaret, either come out with it or get your fake butt out of here. We don't have time to listen to you talk like a dimwit."

Margaret scowled at Tiffany. "Shut up," she hissed at her, and then the hostility eased into a cold grin as she turned to face me. "I know something you don't know, Gracie," she whispered in a sing-song voice. She laced her hands together and propped her chin on top.

"And I'm gonna punch you in the face if you don't spit it out," Tiffany returned in an equally jovial song.

Margaret kept her focus on me, though. "I'm going to bet you think you know Cole, don't you?"

I shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

She flashed me her perfect white teeth. "Oh, it matters." She leaned forward. "You might think Cole is a decent guy, but all of us know better. He's a grade 'A' asshole, Gracie. A jerk who leaves girls on the first date if he doesn't deem them good enough. A prick who will lead you on and then rip you up and down when you try to take things a step further. A complete fucking bastard who doesn't ever know what he wants!" her voice had steadily risen through her whole spiel. I blinked. I failed to realize what that had to do with me, because I was pretty sure she was just being spiteful.

"It's not my place to judge," I responded calmly. "And you shouldn't either."

"Fine." She tapped her nails along her arm. "So what if I told you he would never have been nice to you if not for a bet?"

Now that caught my attention. I stared at her, into her cold and conniving eyes. She smirked in victory, knowing she had caught me, that she was in the process of reeling me in. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the real Cole Winters," she continued. "The one who's only worried about getting into your pants."

My eyes widened.

"Shove off, Margie, we don't need you infecting her mind-"

"No," I cut Tiffany off, still staring at Margaret. "Let her finish."

"But Halo . . ."

"Let her finish," I demanded quietly. Tiffany fell silent. Margaret looked smug enough to take on the world. Lauren was smiling knowingly why still picking at her nails.

"At the beginning of the year Cole made a bet," she began, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. "It was a bet with his best friend. If you knew Cole as well as I do, you'd know he's never one to turn down a challenge. And do you know who the bet was about?"

I was afraid that I did. I shook my head anyway.

"You," she whispered, smiling venomously. "The bet was his motorcycle if he couldn't get into your pants by Christmas. And how far away is that? About a month?"

I swallowed hard. Tiffany was sending my encouraging vibes but I wasn't feeling them. There was a horrible ache on the left side of my chest, terribly uncomfortable. I wanted it to go away, but the more I thought of her words, the worse it got.

"So tell me, Grace," Margaret jabbed. "Has he stolen your little V-card yet?"

"Margaret, stop," Tiffany warned as she studied my face. I could feel the blood draining from it, feeling my hands clenching tightly in my lap. I wasn't sure what to feel. Everything would be useless.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I whispered.

She cocked her head to the side. "Would I ever lie?" she questioned innocently. "Besides, you can ask anybody. Everybody knows about it. Everybody that is, I guess, except for you two." She chuckled. "Better to know now than before it's too late."

"Excuse me," I mumbled, pushing out from the table. I started in the direction of the bathroom. I heard Margaret's satisfied cackles behind me. I fleetingly entertained the idea that she was a witch in a teenage girl's body.

"You're a bitch," Tiffany accused.

"And I take great pride in it," Margaret shot back. Any more conversation vanished as I sought refuge in the large bathroom. I moved to the sink, gripping the edge to keep from falling over.

It was a bet.

I twisted the knob on the sink, running the water.

Everything that happened was a lie.

I let the water run over my hands.

He was never nice to you on purpose.

I rested my elbows on the marble sink. That I found hard to believe. There were times when he seemed so genuine about his actions. Whenever he drove me home, he seemed to really care. When he came in to have pizza and iced tea, he seemed to care. When he watched me after I passed out . . .

When he kissed me.

That moment on the porch.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized maybe it all did play into a bigger picture. The bigger act to seduce me. I felt frustrated tears burn my eyes.

"Grace?"

I switched off the running water, staring into the clear pool within the sink. My fingers hung into the basin, beads of the liquid running off the tips. "I don't know what to think, Tiffany."

Her footsteps signaled her coming closer. "Well, what do you want to think?"

"I want to believe that everything Cole did for the past couple of months wasn't a lie."

She stopped beside me. "And what if they were?"

Despite my hands being wet I used them to cradle my aching head. "I don't know."

"It might not be true," she tried. "Half the things Margaret says are rumors. And she seems to have a real burning hatred for you. You never know, Grace."

That was true, but I couldn't explain the sensations inside of me. The ones that told me, however horrible, that what Margaret said was true. To trust her. I didn't want to. I wanted to believe that I really did see something good inside of Cole.

Why did this have to hurt so badly?

"What do I do if it's true, Tiffany? What am I supposed to do?"

Tiffany pulled me into a hug. I welcomed the friendly embrace. "You do what we girls do best when faced with hardships and adversity," she murmured. "We strap on some high heels, step over the wreckage, and keep on going."

"But what if you don't know where to go?"

She sighed, pulling back. "Then you pray like hell for directions."

***

Tiffany dropped me off later that evening. Mom was out grocery shopping but my dad was home, reading the paper in his comfy chair. It seemed like a normal evening, accept for the conflict raging within me. I didn't know what to do, where to go, or who to talk to. Cole seemed like the right answer, but in all honesty he was the last person I wanted to see. He confused me too much. Made me want things I wasn't sure I would ever want, made me wish for things I had no business wishing for. Maybe he was just more trouble than it was worth.

I wanted to talk to somebody about it but at the moment I would have much rather kept it all bottled inside. Sharing it would have made it real and a part of me was in denial trying to convince myself Margaret's words were lies.

I changed into a soft white nightgown that skimmed my feet, the sleeves reaching to my elbow. The neckline was thin and wouldn't irritate my skin while I slept. I had really sensitive skin. It was annoying at times.

"Did you have fun at the mall?" my father asked me while I sat curled up on the couch across from him, brushing out my hair.

I nodded, staring at the carpet. "It was fine."

The paper rustled as he set it down. "You don't sound like you had fun."

I shrugged limply. "I'm tired."

"Are you feeling alright?"

That's debatable. "Yes, Dad, I'm okay."

"Well, if you're sure."

I nodded. "I'm sure." I ran my hand over the soft strands as they fell around my shoulders. I did love my hair. I remembered a time when I was little-much younger-and the process of chemotherapy had taken it away from me. I was lucky to have gotten it all back. While losing the hair itself wasn't a huge bother to me, losing my identity was. And with every thing the cancer took away from me, that was exactly what happened.

I jumped as the dull ring of the doorbell startled me from my thoughts. My father frowned. "A little late for visitors," he mumbled. "Maybe your mom forgot her keys again." He smirked at the thought, rising from the chair to answer the door. I set the brush down on the table, contemplating just going to bed and dealing with everything in the morning.

But then my dad walked back into the room, looking anything but happy. "It's Mr. Winters at the door."

My heart pounded against my chest. Cole? This late? "What does he want?"

"He says he needs to speak with you, that it's urgent."

I chewed anxiously on my bottom lip. "And you're allowing this?"

He shrugged. "Your mother says I need to be more open."

Heck of a time to start. "Okay," I whispered in a small voice. My father moved back into his chair, picking up his newspaper. His eyes were trained on the articles but I could tell his ears were focused elsewhere.

I approached the door, heart in my throat when I saw him standing there. He was in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, hands shoved into the pockets. It was a stance I could associate with him. His dark hair was messy, like he had run his hands through it one too many times. But he was one of those people that could pull off the worst bed-head look and make it look fantastic.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I stopped on the other side of the open door. I didn't know what I had expected to see when he stared back at me. Certainly not emotionless eyes. And they were just that; empty and emotionless and unreadable.

Something was wrong.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I whispered. He nodded, stepping back. I took it as an indication for me to join him. I stepped barefoot onto the cold wood of the porch, closing the front door behind me. I knew my father would not be pleased but I couldn't bring myself to care for the time being.

We stood in silence. I wondered if he could hear my heart beating, because I could feel my body shaking with the force of it. A gust of wind wrapped my gown around my legs. He stood with his head turned toward the dark woods to the right of my house, saying nothing.

I didn't want to be the first to talk. I should have been angry, but I didn't know what to feel.

"Something is wrong," I finally voiced. But it was so quiet and low it was nearly inaudible. And yet the clenching of Cole's jaw told me he heard me.

"You could say that," he replied tightly.

"Is it more trouble with your team?"

He swallowed hard. "It has nothing to do with them."

"Oh." Would he not just come out with it? Why the suspense? "Do you want to-"

"Would you just cut the fucking bullshit, Grace?" he cried, finally snapping. He turned his eyes on me. They were no longer empty, but sparked with temper.

I shrank back. "What?"

His hands clenched and unclenched, shoulders trembling. "You haven't been straight with me."

Everything within me froze. I was pretty sure my heart might have stopped beating for several seconds.

He ran his hand through his hair, gripping it tight with his fingers. When he spoke next his voice was hoarse. "You have cancer."

I wouldn't have been surprised if my mind completely shut down. Did he really say that? Had it just happened? I was pretty sure this exact moment was my worst nightmare.

"Dammit, Grace!" he exclaimed suddenly, kicking the porch railing hard with his sneakered foot. I flinched. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

My vocal chords died on me. All I could do was stare helplessly at him.

"Say something!" he shouted loudly at me.

Out of all the things I could have said to potentially make the situation better, the one thing I managed to get out did nothing to help. "You weren't supposed to find out."

"I think I got that," he quipped, "since I had to find out from Dr. Greene."

I frowned. "You investigated me?"

"What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"Leave it be."

"You can't just leave cancer be, Grace!" he continued, voice rising again.

"I know that," I said firmly. "I have it, after all."

He swore beneath his breath, turning away from me. I figured since the end result of this night was pretty much inevitably horrendous, I might as well bring up the other elephant in the room.

"You made a bet on me."

His shoulders stiffened. This, I could tell, he hadn't been prepared for.

"You wanted to take my innocence," I continued, taking a bold step forward. I was hoping he would deny it, that I would have at least one assurance that it was a lie. That everything we had shared, monumental or small, was true.

He glanced at me over his shoulder. "How did you find out about that?" he asked in a monotone.

My heart fell to my feet, shattering into a billion little pieces. I could feel the empty pain in my chest. Was this heartache? I didn't like it.

Not one bit.

"How could you do that?" I cried, the tears glossing my eyes and blurring my vision.

"Don't turn this around on me," he returned. "You should have told me you were sick!"

"I didn't want you to act any different."

"I wouldn't have!"

"You are right now!"

He lapsed into silence. I could feel the tears streaming down my face, tripping onto my nightgown. He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "My parents have cancelled the tutoring sessions," he said softly. "You're no longer obligated to me."

I didn't bother wiping away the tears, knowing it would have been futile as I appeared to have a never-ending supply. "I don't know how you'll try to seduce me into bed then," I muttered bitterly. "I guess you'll have to find a different tactic."

He sucked on his tooth, staring hard at me. "I guess so," he murmured, the last blow to my delicate heart. He turned and trotted off my step, disappearing into the night. I didn't try to stop him. I didn't wait until he was in his car. I opened the door and walked back inside my house.

I walked straight passed my father, who asked me if I was alright.

I shut my bedroom door behind me, not even bothering to turn on the light. I fell to the floor, huddled against my door. I laid my head upon my knees.



And then I cried.

****

And things just go from bad to worse :P next chapter Should be up this evening. Vote and comment! Love you all! :D

-EJ