"I like the name Alex," Michelle suggests.
"For a boy or a girl?" I ask, drawing two circles on the board with an overlapping space.
"Either. According to Baby Names dot com, it means 'Defender of the People.'"
"Too cheesy," Eric interjects.
"Well, what do you have, hm?"
"I like the name Keegan. It means 'Descendant of the Fiery One,' perfect name for your kid."
"Ha, ha, ha."
I roll my eyes and write both names in their corresponding circles. This is going to take a while for them to come up with anything good. I grab my notebook off of my desk and flip to the most recent page.
"For a boy, I like the name Charlie," I try. Neither are listening. "It means 'Free Man,' so it fits perfectly."
"What, Ryleigh?" Michelle turns to me. 'Free Man' must've caught her attention.
"Charlie. It means 'Free Man.' I thought it fit pretty well."
"I like it. Write it."
Instead of trying to say all of my other ideas, I just handed Michelle my notebook. She reads it with Eric looking over her shoulder. Then she smiles.
"Looks like Ry did her homework."
"I always do," I reply, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Michelle reads off the other five names I had written so I can write them on the board.
"Alright, you can erase Alex. I like Theodore, Noah, Charlie, and Keegan for boys and Alice, Esme, and Abigail for girls."
"What do they mean? You were too shaky," Eric asks.
"Theodore means divine gift, Noah means rest or peace, Charlie means free man, Keegan means descendant of the fiery one, which is yours, then Alice means of a noble kin, Esme means loved, and Abigail means joy of the Father," I state from memory.
"I like Abigail and Charlie the most. They're so fitting," Eric says.
"Oh, and I looked up our names. Mine means descendant of Roghallach, which makes no sense. Yours means always ruled, Michelle's means Who is like God? and Simon's means to be heard. Which is actually very fitting also." I was half tempted to read Peter's name off, too. It means rock, anyway which doesn't make much sense.
"I guess someone actually did their homework," Michelle says, looking down.
"Nah, I haven't done AP Chem homework yet. Thanks for reminding me, though."
I reach for my backpack and pull out my binder and a pencil. Michelle and Eric continued discussing names while I finished. I couldn't help but smile. My two best friends.
•
"I change my mind, I don't like our costume idea," I say, covering my eyes. Michelle stood me in front of a floor length mirror after I got dressed.
"Ryleigh, this is my last chance to go all out before people would notice my baby bump. If you don't come, I'm getting an abortion."
"No! Sorry, just please keep the baby."
"That's what I thought. Eric, you can come in now."
Eric's been waiting behind the door for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for us to get dressed. Now he gets to speculate while Michelle does makeup.
He whistles as he walks in. Then Eric pecks my lips and eyes me up and down. I don't feel so bad about wearing a skirt and a crop top at the end of October anymore. He smiles as Michelle pushes my butt into the seat. We're at my house, since her dad is just on call tonight and is sitting in the living room with the landline in his lap. I had to chat with him while Michelle gathered her stuff.
"Red or red?" Michelle asks, holding up two tubes of lipstick. One is fairly lighter than the other. I point to it. "Yeah, that one matches your skin tone."
I'm forced to sit in the chair for ten minutes total. It wasn't that bad, aside from Michelle trying to be quick and occasionally rubbing something off my skin.
It only takes a few more minutes for Michelle to quickly do her makeup in the mirror. Eric is still standing, since he didn't want to sit in the suit. Michelle quickly pulls both ribbons holding our curled hair out of our faces and we're out the door.
Eric drives to the party. All of the parents usually know about these, so there's never alcohol. Once in awhile, one kid will sneak in a bottle but they usually don't share nor finish it.
Music isn't very loud either. Granted, it's only the senior and junior classes in one average sized house. We generally prefer talking.
As the car rolls to a park, I wonder what Peter would say if he saw us now. Probably some smart-aleck comment about Eric and why Michelle is dressing like that too.
I don't want to get out of the car. I know Michelle and Eric are really looking forward to socializing, but I'm not. Part of me just wants to crawl back into bed. I don't think it has anything to do with our choice of costume, more like all of the stuff that's been happening lately.
Regardless, I open my door and get out. I pull the back of the skirt down and follow the two up to the door. Everyone is singing along to Sweet Caroline, surprise surprise. Our town is full of classic rocks and eighties music fans, since that's what our parents listened to when they were younger. Every CD from that time period is owned by at least one of the families. You want a song, it's not hard to find.
When I was younger, maybe around seven years old, a band called Cheap Trick came to the fair held in the city over. Ever since then, we all listen to their music. It didn't surprise me when I Want You To Want Me came on next and we all sang along.
Eric handed a guy three dollar bills so we could all have bottles of root beer. Later, some people are probably going to start a game of spin the bottle truth or dare and someone will end up squirting ketchup from a bottle into their mouth.
I tried to twist the cap off, but without any sleeves, it was proving to be quite difficult. It was actually pretty cold, too.
"I got you," Eric says, popping the caps off of my and Michelle's root beer bottles. Then the three of us hold up our bottles and say "cheers."
"Cheers to senior year!" I offer.
"Cheers to being pregnant!" Michelle follows.
"Cheers to friends." Eric kisses my head, then pulls Michelle in and does the same.
The rest of the night consists of laughing, talking, more root beer, and memories. Eventually, I found the host and asked him for a 7 Up since my stomach started feeling weird. He gave me a can and I asked Eric if he could drop me off at home.
Michelle came with us, but went back to the party with Eric. I was alright with it. If they want to go out and have fun, that's on them.
I threw on my sweatshirt before I went inside. Chances are my parents aren't back yet, since it's only eight, but better safe than sorry.
I walked up to the door until Eric's headlights were no longer on me. That was when I pulled the keys out of my purse and went over to my car. I decided to go see Peter.
While the car warmed up, I swallowed the last gulp of my soda and set the now-empty can inside the cup holder. I couldn't hear the radio, so I turned it up. Spirit song Missing You by John Waite came on. My eyes watered. Every sad song links to Simon. Even though John says he isn't missing whoever the song is about.
I almost pulled over the tears were so bad. By the time I parked in Simon's driveway, my vision was going blurry. I knocked, but entered right after, without waiting for Simon's mother. She was sitting at the table again, a coffee mug and newspaper sitting in front of her. She didn't look up when I walked past and marched downstairs.
"Ryleigh?" Peter asks when I come into his line of sight.
I continue walking in his direction. Peter is sitting on the futon, reading a book. He doesn't hesitate to put his bookmark in and set it down next to him. I drop my purse and lay down with my head in his lap. Sobs flow out.
For a few minutes, he doesn't say anything, he just pulls my curls out from under my head. I watch his reflection in the blank television screen. Then he finally speaks up.
"What's up?"
"All this time," I choke out, "I've been trying to hide it. I haven't been coping. The only time I can actually mourn is with you and on my own."
He nods and rests a hand on my shoulder. Sighing, I close my eyes.
"I've been on my own for a lot of time, aside from when you visit. His mom doesn't even talk anymore."
"Sometimes I just feel like bawling my eyes out."
"You're safe here. Where's Eric?"
That might have been one of the first times I've actually heard Peter say his name. "He and Michelle are still at a Halloween party."
"That explains your outfit. What are you supposed to be?" I sit up and pull of my sweatshirt. Peter's eyebrows raise and I laugh, wondering what is going through his head right now.
"Eric wore a suit. He was a billionaire and Michelle and I dressed up as his 'whores.'"
"Very creative. Let me guess, Michelle came up with the idea."
"How'd you know?" I ask, giggling. I shivered for a second, so Peter picked up the blanket from under his book and tossed it at me.
"She still doesn't know that you know, does she?" Peter asks, hopeful. I shake my head and he lets out a sigh of relief.
I lay back down with my head on Peter's legs again. I hear pages ruffle; he must've picked up his book again.
I don't even ask if it's okay for me to stay the night again. My phone doesn't make any noise. Mom probably assumes that I'm still at the party or hanging with Michelle.
•
A little while later, my eyes reopen. It's still dark out. I can tell since there are little windows near the ceiling that have to be there in order for a basement to be declared usable. The only light coming through was a faint white glow from the near-full moon.
Peter snores quietly next to me. He must have shut the lamp off earlier. How he slept sitting up is beyond me.
I sit up for a moment to grab my phone. A text from Michelle.
Where are you?
I respond, asking her if she told my mom I was with her. Her next text came right away, saying yes, but that she'd tell her the truth if I didn't tell her where I was.
Thinking fast, I say that I went to the library, saw Uma, the other tutor, and went back to her house to plan out the tutoring schedule for November. Fortunately, Uma and Michelle never see each other, so I wouldn't have to worry about that one coming back for me. As long as she doesn't know that I'm with Peter, since he doesn't seem to want her to know.
When I put my head back down, I probably went too fast, since Peter started to stir. He lifted his arm off of my side and stretched it above his head. I sat up again.
"Ryleigh?" He mumbles.
"Sh, go back to sleep. I had to text Michelle."
"Everything alright?"
"Yeah, she just wondered where I was."
Instead of laying down again, I just rested my head on his shoulder with full intentions of continuing our conversation.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"I don't know, you're the one who checked their phone."
"Oh, do you have a cell phone?" I always forget to ask when I'm with Peter.
"Yeah. It's not a smartphone, though. Just does texting and calling."
I look up at his face. Peter is staring straight ahead. His hair is slightly ruffled and under his eyes were barely noticeable purple bags. In the faint light of the moon, he seemed almost a little attractive.
"Are you tired?"
"Very."
"Staying up past your bedtime?" I ask, a single giggle slipping out.
"Way past. And for far too long," Peter says. "Can I tell you something?"
Silently, I nod against his bicep. I wonder if he works out? I know the room on the other side of the stairs has gym equipment, but I only knew of Simon using them. Of course, that was back when I thought Peter was a few states away.
"The reason Simon is dead," Peter took a sharp intake of breath, "isn't because he was a bad guy."
I wasn't sure what to say.
"It's because he's the good guy. He was the hero with a bad rep. I keep trying to relate it to some superhero, but none of them get what they don't deserve."
I pondered the thought for a minute. Peter is saying that Simon was innocent. It still doesn't explain how he ended up dead at the scene.
"If he wasn't the bad guy, who was?"
Peter tensed up. I felt his arm bulge next to me. Peering up at his face, I noticed how cold his expression looked. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared when he breathed in. Peter's soft brown eyes were squinted, as if trying to prevent them from watering. It didn't make sense. Instead of probing, I took his right hand in my left and gave it a comforting squeeze.
When it became clear that Peter wasn't going to say anything more on the subject, I decided on something new to talk about.
"We're coming up with names for Michelle's baby," I suggest. "Have any ideas?"
"I think it'd be pretty cool if she was a girl and her name was Padma. Like from Star Wars, except her name was Padme. Padme wasn't on the website, though."
"You looked up names already?" I leaned forward and turned my head to face him.
"Correction, I looked up sci-fi names because I don't want Michelle to name her kid after flowers or something."
"Ha, ha, ha. It's actually really good. What does it mean?" I ask, retreating to the more comfortable position of leaning on Peter's arm.
"Lotus. Which is actually quite counter-productive."
We both burst with laughter. It wasn't actually that funny, but somehow I knew that by being here with Peter, I was both mourning and coping at the same time. A new revelation: with Michelle and Eric, I was pure coping; on my own, I was pure mourning; but now, I was doing both, which got rid of the pain but in slow, manageable amounts. I gave myself an imaginary high-five for my new mental discovery.
"What did you suggest?" Peter asks, once we had calmed down.
"Well, Eric suggested Keegan, but I gave Theodore, Noah, Charlie, Alice, Esme, and there was one other..." I pause, tapping the pointer finger of my free hand on my chin. "Abigail."
"You remembered seven names?"
"I care about Michelle."
"I do too. You're just flat-out crazy, Ryleigh."
"Thanks, I try."
Peter rolls our hands over so the back of mine resides on his leg. I reposition my head so that it fits right below his shoulder.
"I don't know what I was thinking when I sent you those clues."
"You wanted me to know the truth to Simon's case, right?"
"There's more than that. I'm going to be honest, I was hoping that maybe you, I don't know..."
"Spit it out," I laugh, punching his shoulder.
"Seriously, Ryleigh, I was hoping that maybe you'd like me. But you came with Eric. And it's unfair to us both."
He used a hand to hold me up while he scooted over. I frowned.
"Friends can't sit next to each other?" My tone seemed a little harsh.
"Believe me, I'd love to. But I have respect for both you and Eric so I'm giving myself some distance."
"But that's not fair to me."
"I know it's not, and I'm sorry."
Sighing, I lay back down, except this time, my head lands on the warm spot where Peter used to be sitting. As much as I wanted him back here underneath me, I didn't persist. Peter's already in a touchy mood. I don't need him to kick me out.
So, I decided to let myself sleep again.
•
In the morning, Peter was gone. A pillow, smelling strongly like him, was placed under my head. Another blanket sat over my half-exposed body.
I stretch my arms before picking up my phone. It sits on top of my sweatshirt, which is not anywhere near folded. The clock says eight in the morning. No new texts, no missed calls. Shocking.
"You awake?" Peter asks, stepping out of his room. He must have changed out of his jeans last night, since now he had on a pair of flannel pants and a plain gray shirt.
"Yeah," I reply, setting my feet on the cold carpet. I shiver as I pull the blanket off and stand up.
"I'm not letting you go home in that," he says, slipping back into his room.
My balance shifts from foot to foot as I wait for Peter to come back. When he does, he has a pair of plain gray sweatpants and a white long sleeve shirt. I peer down at my current ensemble; goosebumps are forming around my belly button. How did I let myself out of the house?
"Thanks." I take the clothes and set them down. I waste no time taking off the skirt(I refused to wear the tights) and pulling the pants over my spandex. They are only a tad big, so he probably grew out of them already. Peter turns around. Such a gentleman.
Remembering that I don't have a bra underneath the top, I slip the white shirt right over it. I announce that I'm done and fold up the skirt and my sweatshirt.
"Are you going home now?" Peter asks, sitting next to my clothes.
"I don't see why I should. We should go out," I suggest.
"Someone will recognize me."
"They haven't seen you in years!"
"Neither did you. But you still noticed."
"Right. Well Halloween was yesterday, wear a mask!"
"I don't want to go out."
I frown.
"Last time didn't go so well."
"What about the backyard? There's a trampoline."
"If you insist."
When we went upstairs, Simon's mother was slumped over the table, mug and newspaper still sitting in front of her. I asked Peter if we should do something, but he said she's been doing that ever since August.
The back door was locked, but a quick twist of the deadbolt and it slid open. The yard looked like it could be mowed. Weeds grew at the base and underneath the trampoline. Regardless, we both hopped on.
"Can you do a flip?" I ask.
"Nah. You?"
I grinned, bounced high, and did a full three-sixty in the air. If there's one thing athletic I could do, it's trampoline flips. Peter smiled back and did a somersault. I clapped encouragingly so he bowed.
"Nine out of ten, I say."
"C'mon, that was at least a nine point three."
"I can't show favoritism!"
"Does that mean I'm your favorite?"
"Well, between you and all of the ticks that are probably out here, yes, you are."
Eventually we both stopped jumping and just laid on the trampoline. When it started to rain, we laughed and ran inside. That was when I declared that it was time for me to go home.
I gathered all of my stuff and sped out to my car. Simon's mother still hadn't moved by the time I pulled out of the driveway and drove home.
The rain poured down but my windshield wipers were quick to clear it out of the way so I could see. Not many cars were out, only a few pairs of headlights coming into my view on my way home.The garage door was open, as if expecting me. I carefully pulled it and turned the key.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home," I call on my way upstairs. I have to shower first, then I'll go eat something.
"How was last night?" My mom asks, peeking her head out of their room.
"It was fun, but we stayed up late so I'm really tired," I reply. Dropping all of my stuff on my bedroom floor, I grabbed a towel, and went to take a shower.
12/10/15