NOTE: Don't miss out on this week's drama-packed reading of Chapter 55 by kaelking12!
CHAPTER 55
Lacey
The Daily Gawker
Spring Break...Up?
Good Morning Gawkers,
Start of the school day got you down? Don't worry, we've got you covered. As you all know, no Monday morning is complete without a piping hot cup of coffee or your daily dose of Gawker gold, and this morning we've got the kind of story on our hands that'll have you fanning the flames of the rumor mill faster a you can say "scandal".
Brace yourselves, Gawkers, this one's for the books.
According to multiple sources, our supposedly rager-retired royal made a surprise re-entrance into Mission Bay's party scene this past weekend.
Rumor has it that the King himself was spotted at not one, not two, but more than three late-night ragers spanning over the course of the last three days. And the biggest shocker aside from his jaw dropping descent back into frat boy level drinking was the fact that he was doing it all, solo.
That's right, Gawkers.
Our King's lovely lady was noticeably missing from his side which left party-goers in a tailspin.
Could this be the tragic end of our royal Romeo's first shot at love?
Did a couple's spat leave our favorite royal on the rocks?
Is he newly single and ready to mingle?
The possibilities are endless little G's.
But, we still have yet to confirm if trouble's truly in the cards for one of this year's most admired and envied couples.
So, how do we get down to the bottom of what might be the biggest break-up of the year?
Just keep your eyes peeled in the halls and report anything you see.
Anonymously, of course.
When it comes to gossip gold, good tips are always well-rewarded.
The more receipts you have, the better.
So get to snooping, Gawkers. We'll be waiting.
Until next time,
-The Daily G
***
I should be taking notes right now. I should be so wrapped up in Mr. Roemer's Civil Liberties class that I'm unable to focus on anything else. Not the rumors. Not the gossip. Not the fact that I haven't heard from Elias in almost seventy-two hours. Nothing should be able to get to me in this room.
This class is my sanctuary.
A place I push through the weekend just to get back to. Every Monday, I walk into Mr. Roemer's wide open room where there is no such thing as rigidly spaced desks or typical classroom rules but a circle of chairs open for his students to take our place as equals.
We argue over morality, what's wrong or what's right in the world, and totally lose ourselves in the discussion. And I've fallen in love with the feeling. I love the idea of being so caught up in the classroom that everything and everyone else outside of it disappears.
In Mr. Roemer's classroom, I'm someone else—someone worth believing in, I'm someone he believes has a brighter future than I could ever imagine. I'm a combination of potential and promise.
Someone who dares to hope, someone who can exist above the noise that poisons the halls.
But all of that ended today. My illusion of hope, my escape—everything good about this place died in the space of a Gawker post that I'm still holding in my hands.
That I still can't stop reading.
"Ms. Sanders, is there something your cell phone would like to share with the class? It certainly seems to have your undivided attention."
Mr. Roemer leans back in his chair and flashes me a cowboy smile. Aside from his librarian style glasses, he looks like someone who walked straight out of a John Wayne western. On any day of the week, he comes dressed in Levi's jeans, spurred boots, and faded Arizona style button ups and jean jackets. But as tough as he looks, the gentleness behind his smile tells me he doesn't mean any harm. I know he's more concerned than upset, which makes me regret losing my focus in the first place.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Roemer. I think I need to step out for a second if that's okay."
My voice is trembling and small, but Mr. Roemer doesn't make a show of it. He simply nods and motions me toward the door like nothing's wrong at all. I'm silently grateful.
"Of course, you can. Just don't stay out there too long. Cell phones are known to take teenagers hostage and never bring them back."
My handful of classmates break out into a series of easy-going laughs that almost put me at ease. But, then, I remember. Images of me sitting at home obsessively checking my phone for any word from Elias flood my memory to the point where it makes me sick.
I already know I need too much from him. I feel it. I feel the quiet desperation that pulls at me every time I have to leave him, every time I start thinking about if and when he'll leave me. Being with Elias has felt like an extended dream, one I can't help but be aware of even though I wish I wasn't.
I wish I could pretend that we were as perfect as the Gawker said we used to be. I wish I could believe him every time he's said that he'll never want anyone else the way he wants me. I wish that I wasn't painfully aware of just how much we've changed since we started dating. How much I've changed since "we" started.
But I'm aware of everything.
Even the things about him that I fight to ignore.
I'm still terrified of waking up one day and not mattering to him anymore.
And today might be that day.
The Gawker post is just a reminder of what was always coming.
The end of our illusion.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Sorry, again."
I stand up out of my chair, grab my backpack, and rush out the door before I break down. I hold my breath hoping that the first floor hallway will be mostly deserted, but there's a surprising amount of people outside in the middle of first period.
I shove my phone deep into the back pocket of my jeans and pretend that it isn't burning a hole through the fabric. Out here I can't let my eyes wander anywhere near that Gawker post or people will know that some part of it was true.
I wasn't with Elias all weekend. Not mentally, not physically.
The past three days are the furthest we've ever been since I broke up with him last spring. But this time I'm not the one making decisions. I'm the one with the least control.
And if this is what it felt like for Elias, I regret ever doing it at all.
I hug my backpack tight against my chest, swallow the stares, and somehow manage to convince myself to head in the direction of Elias's classroom. I could keep waiting for him. I could "give him time" the way all the magazines say I should and hope he'll come back in a few days with a smile, apology, and an explanation.
But, this situation feels, off. Like if I don't close the gap between him and I—it'll keep expanding until there isn't any "us" to go back to.
I speed walk past groups of people standing at their lockers, whispering as soon as I pass by. I know what they're saying. What they're thinking. It's the same thing that happened at Cardinal after my mom died.
I went from being the girl who had everything—friends, a life, and a family to being the girl on the outside of everything. Someone who people talked about behind closed doors and passed notes about in class. I thought that changing schools would fix things. But maybe some shadows always follow you wherever you go.
Five excruciatingly long minutes pass, and I finally find myself at Elias's classroom door. I stand up on my tiptoes and search the classroom to try to spot him in his usual seat. No matter how much I've tried to convince him not to, Elias always sits in the back. Second seat from the classroom window. He hates math so I assume he spends most of the period staring outside at the softball field. But, today, his seat is empty. No books, no backpack, no sign of him anywhere.
And then, suddenly, he's everywhere.
I turn around at the sound of his voice booming down the opposite end of the hallway. I turn around a little too fast and the force of confusion, excitement, and quiet anxiety nearly sends me flying of my feet.
But then our eyes meet and all my excitement turns to ash.
He avoids my gaze as fast as he found it and goes right back to making a show of his clearly late entrance into school for the two football players at his side. Two boys who I immediately recognize as the same Tyler and Kevin who tried to ruin his social life at Spring Formal. The ones who leaked the video of the incident at his eighth grade dance.
Elias had gone on about how the days he used to spend partying with the both of them were ones he regretted the most. But he's not wearing any part of that shame now.
He's laughing and smiling at the two of them like they're old friends with shared secrets, and the sight of it makes me sick.
This person isn't my Elias. He's someone who looks a lot like the boy who humiliated me back in the cafeteria without batting an eyelash last spring. And here we are again at the start of the same season, doing the same dance all over again.
Elias waltzes over in my direction—still pretending I'm not standing directly in front of him, while his two "friends" throw him sloppy high fives.
"It's been real, losers, but this is my stop. Text me later, and I'll let you know about Friday."
Friday?
Another one?
"Will do, King. Have fun with the missus in the meantime. See you 'round," Tyler says, and then makes a point to let his eyes roam all over me before he passes by.
Kevin and him break out into hushed laughs as they disappear behind me, but I'm too focused on Elias to give them even a second more of my time. He looks hollow. Broken beyond broken. The dark circles under his eyes and the ashy tinge to his skin silently tell a story that begins and ends with a new kind of sadness.
One I've never felt from him before.
It washes over me so fast I feel like I'm drowning in the middle of an otherwise empty hallway. The Elias who's always so careful and proud of his appearance is long gone. His hair's as messy and disheveled as his obviously stained t-shirt—the same one he was wearing when he left me on the softball field Friday night.
I step towards him out of impulse, concern, need.
But none of it reaches him because he steps away from me. Around me. Without a word or sound and beelines for his classroom door.
So I stop him.
I step in front of him, lift an unsteady hand to his chest, and force him to pay attention.
For the first time.
And it just about kills me.
"Eli, I—w-where—uh, were you Friday? I was worried s-something might have happened to you, and I tried texting and calling but—"
He looks down at me, but his usually wild green eyes are dull and lifeless.
"I know. I saw."
"Then, why didn't you answer? You said you were coming back to the house."
Elias runs a hand through his hair and breathes out just enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. I recoil from him, and he catches me. He catches my heart shrinking a couple sizes in my chest as every single word I read in the Gawker realizes itself between the two of us.
And for a split second, I see him.
The real him.
And he's covered in sadness and regret and something that feels a lot like heartbreak. He reaches up to his mouth and covers it briefly before he steps further away from me.
"Something came up, okay?" He says.
"Something that involved you, drinking? You look terrible, Eli, and this morning the Gawker said—"
"So, you believe what the Gawker says now, huh? That's interesting. What about trusting me, Lace?"
"How am I supposed to do that when you disappear on me for three days? You said you were coming back, Eli, and I waited for you. I believed you to the point where I was making excuses for you all weekend long only for you to show up like this? You stink of alcohol on a Monday morning. Since when do you drink like this?"
He lets out the kind of laugh that has teeth and claws. It's aggressive, bitter, and completely unlike him.
"Your my girlfriend aren't you? Shouldn't you know the answer to that?"
The same suffocating feeling that choked the life out of me in the middle of Mr. Roemer's classroom wraps its hands around my throat again. This is the Elias I'm afraid of. The one who everyone else at this school seems to know.
"Why would you—say something like that to me?"
"Because it's true. I think you think I'm someone different than I really am. I think you're hoping I'll turn out to be this good little Christian boy your dad will finally approve of, but that's not gonna happen. Some people can't be saved, Lace."
Maybe he's right. Even if I don't want him to be.
"You think I don't know that? I lived through watching someone I couldn't save slip through my fingers, so don't talk to me about that! I wouldn't be here for you if I didn't believe in you, Elias. I know how good you are when you wanna be."
"Well, maybe I don't wanna be anymore. I'm tired, Lace. Trying to be perfect is hard work, but partying's easy. It was so easy to slip back into, it was like I never left."
Elias's eyes never work in his favor. His mouth is desperately trying to cut me down and hurt me so I leave. But his eyes are apologizing. Over and over again.
"So, it was true? You were just driving around and drinking all weekend instead of talking to me about whatever it is that's wrong with you?"
He steps over to the lockers, presses his forehead against the cool metal and nods.
"Would you drop the subject and let me go to class if I said 'yes'?"
I walk over to him and shove him without thinking. But the idea of him being drunk behind the wheel is too much for me to hold in anymore.
"Are you serious right now? What's wrong with you?! You could've gotten into an accident! You could've gotten yourself or someone else killed!"
"I know."
"Then why would you do that?! If you don't care to think about me, at least think of your brother and your mom!"
Elias slams his fist against the lockers, and the sound startles me and the handful of bystanders in the hallway.
"Leave them out of it, Lace. Leave her—never mind just leave me alone. I don't have time for this bullshit."
Elias side steps me, but I raise my voice again to stop him.
"But, you have time for Kev and Ty, right? You have time for two guys you said you hated, but instead of avoiding them, now you're avoiding me—"
"Because I have to! I don't know what else to do, Lace! This is who I am, and this is what I do, okay? I run. When shit gets too heavy, I drink until I blackout and make stupid decisions. That's how I deal. That's how I've always dealt with things, and the only reason I ever tried to stop was because of you. The only reason I tried to get better was because of you, but I screwed all that up, okay!? Everything's ruined because of me! Everything's falling apart because at the end of the day I'm no different than my fucking father."
Elias has never once raised his voice to me. Whenever he speaks, his words are always soft and gentle. Careful and kind. Like his mother's. But, today, his words are razor sharp. Cutting straight through my veins and begging me to bleed. To cave in under the weight of his sadness. But I won't. Not like this.
I cross the distance he keeps trying to put between us and pull him into my arms without warning. His skin is hot to the touch—a hurricane of anger, confusion, and regret, but I hold him through it. Like I always have. Like I always will.
"You're nothing like your father, Eli. I just wish you would talk to me. What happened to you? You were fine when you left on Friday. Why are you hurting like this now?"
Elias takes in an unsteady breath the way he does whenever he's close to crying.
"I don't—wanna talk about it here. There's too many people."
"Then, follow me."
I take him by the hand and beeline for the nearest exit that'll get us out of this school. We need to get away from all of the eyes and ears that have been glued to us since the start of our fight in the hallway.
I walk with my head held high even though I know every single person around us has more than enough ammunition to hand over to the Gawker. I walk without hesitation knowing that if I doubt myself now, the illusion of strength and composure I've built will melt under school-wide scrutiny. I push myself forward until Elias and I find ourselves in our only safe place—an empty softball field that's always kept our secrets.
Elias eases out of my grip and slides down against the gate fencing separating the batting area from the bleachers. He won't even look at me. His eyes are glued to the ground like they belong there.
"Can you—do me a favor, Lace?"
He finally speaks after a long silence, but his words are tired and broken. The anger they carried back in the hallway is nowhere in sight. This is the Eli I know, the one who loves instead of fights, who's caring instead of callous. But his heart's changed. I take his hand in mine and feel it thudding away underneath his skin. It's broken every time it beats.
"Anything."
He leans over and pulls me into the kind of kiss that's meant to make up for his silence and his pain. The kind that leaves apologies on your lips without ever having to speak them into existence. But, right before we lose ourselves to each other, he pulls away.
Just enough for me to watch him dissolve into tears. Just enough for me to realize that the source of his sorrow is completely out of my reach.
"Break up with me."
***
Thank you guys so much for reading/listening! We definitely pulled out the emotional punches with this one and we hope it felt real to you :). Next update should be next weekend unless we say otherwise!
#RealTalkQuestionoftheWeek
1. Why do you think Elias asked Lacey to break up with him?
2. Based on the things Elias said during him and Lacey's fight would you break up with him?