"The sadness will last forever."
― Vincent van Gogh
"Hand me the paper," Mr Johnson said with an edge to his voice. "Mr Stints."
Zoey's eyes widened at me, and I dumbly looked up at him. "We were just checking each other's answers," I stated. "Right, Zoey?"
She looked back at me and smiled. "Yeah. You know, we both want to make sure our answers are correct."
"Uh-hm," Mr Johnson said unconvinced, "Well, I'm sure you two can make sure your answers are correct in detention, and proof read your essays on why it's shameful to cheat in class. Sound good?"
Everyone in class laughed, but Zoey and I just looked at each other smiling. "Yeah, got it," I said, giving him an okay sign. "After school, right?"
Mr Johnson shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I stay after school too."
Zoey then looked a little scared. "Okay, after school," she said quietly.
:: :: ::
Zoey and I talked for a real long time. We were the only ones in the Geometry room.
I think we both forgot that we were in detention. But in the beginning it hadn't started off that way.
For one, Mr Johnson had been in the room. He was reading a book, and didn't acknowledge me nor Zoey.
On the blackboard it read:
No talking.
You may read, finish homework from other classes, or do nothing.
Zoey fidgeted slightly in her seat. She didn't look at me. After ten minutes of just staring into space, she took out a book from her bag. I did nothing.
Eventually Mr Johnson left the room to pick up papers from the printer, or-- fuck, I forgot. But anyway, Zoey and I were finally alone. Therefore, a conversation needed to be started.
"So," I said, "I'm sorry about getting you detention."
She looked up from her book. "Oh," she said with a smile, "It's all right. It's not like I had any plans or anything..."
"Yeah, I really didn't either."
"But I thought you had football practice. You play football, right?"
I shrugged this time. "Yeah, but I kinda risked missing practice, because I thought it'd be cool, to...y'know..."
Not finishing my sentence, I avoided making eye contact with Zoey. For some effing reason, I didn't want to tell her what I'd been thinking, or wanting to say.
She tried to play it off as if she weren't curious on why I decided to miss practice, and hightail it into detention. But her curiosity got the best of her, because she shut her book and put it face down on the desk. "Why did you, out of all people, decide to skip football practice?"
"Because I wanted to have a reason to talk to you." I looked at her. "And I don't think you like me, and I just wanted to try and y'know, talk to you."
She blushed.
She may've been surprised.
"You're not serious."
"But the thing is, I am."
"It's okay," she said simply, with a more confident smile I'd ever seen her wear. "I've been wanting to talk to you as well, because I want to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"How do you tolerate school?"
I didn't have a quick response. Zoey just asked me something that I didn't necessarily have an answer to.
But she continued on anyway. "You're life's just perfect, and people like you. And I'm pretty sure you have friends, and I'm pretty sure you're confident about everything in general. You're even in Simon Moore's good graces."
She looked thoughtful for a bit. "I'm pretty sure, that if I were to leave this school, people would hardly notice. What's it take to be memorable in high school, Isaac. What does it take?"
"Zoey, I'm not sure I could give you a good answer..." I responded hesitantly.
She looked pained, and then looked at the whiteboard; avoiding my face. "But I need an answer...you know what? I'm surprised that you even want to talk to me, 'cause it sucks Isaac, it sucks."
She wasn't angry at me, but more-so frustrated; I could tell.
If there's anything I learned from this whole experience, it was that being misunderstood, uncertain, ignored, and hurting was something that most people missed to see when it came to each other. Not only was Zoey feeling like shit, I'm pretty sure there was more people like her who felt the same.
I wasn't sure who I was anymore. I felt disillusioned because for so long I'd been in my own world. At one point, in my high school career so far, I was perhaps mean and a dick to people I didn't consider cool, and thought of them as downright lame.
I remembered this one time when I was a Sophomore (just last year), Simon Moore beat the hell out of this one guy named Garub Kreb, but everyone called him Crab. I felt bad when thinking about the fight, because now that I thought about it Simon Moore had really humiliated that guy. Crab had been a freshman. And you know when it comes to upperclassmen, freshmen are lame shits.
I didn't even want to think about it now. Therefore, all I would like to share was that the reason why Simon Moore beat the shit out of Crab, was due to the fact that Simon Moore was a dickhead, and Crab didn't deserve to get the shit beat out of him.
Enough said.
I was an asshole back then, for being a follower.
"Zoey, you're wrong."
She looked at me. "Yeah? Then tell me why I'm wrong. I seem to be wrong about most things in my life right now."
"Be-because everything's rough all over." Despite the fact that I had said earlier that The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton was the last book I read, I still remembered that line from the book. "...And who said being popular in high school's fun?"
Zoey still didn't look convinced.
I got up from my desk, and sat in a desk next to hers. "my mom and dad divorced when I was younger, 'cause he cheated. My brother and I aren't close. I found out awhile ago that my now ex girlfriend and now ex best friend had been messing around with each other behind my back, and oh, yeah! And I don't feel entirely excited about homecoming 'cause our football doesn't seem ready for Wayward. Did I forget to mention that Simon Moore punched me today? It was in the hallway, I'd gone to the bathroom. When I come out, Simon Moore started saying some shitty words to me, and because I hardly reacted. Well...I got punched in the face. No one was in the hallway. So, what 'good graces' are you talking about?"
She was speechless.
But I felt accomplished some-what. I'd put myself out there for Zoey. It wasn't very hard to, because of the time loop. But it still got me feeling that adrenaline, I guess.
"Why do you wanna talk to me?" She then asked, "Are you trying to get back at your girlfriend?"
"No, because I'm now just noticing things," I said quietly, "And, I realized how mean Justice was to you, and you've helped me out in Geometry more than once. I appreciate that."
Zoey teared up, and looked like she was going to cry right then and there. Yet, instead, she started to laugh. Wholeheartedly laugh.
Her laughter was good to hear. It made me ask with a little chuckle too, "why are you laughing?"
"'Cause I feel like you're being honest." She continued to laugh.
"When does detention end?" I asked, looking at the clock on the wall above the whiteboard. "I know in Ms. Stephens it's an hour and a half. When vice principal Ed gives you detention it last two hours, with coach it's thirty minutes..."
Her laughing soon ceased. "Do you always have detention?" She queried.
"Yeah," I said with a smirk, "But it's for doing something in class, or by helping Simon Moore be a smart ass to teachers. It varies. But surprisingly, I've never gotten detention for cheating."
Then, Zoey started to laugh again.
If you walked by the Geometry room that very minute, you could've heard her. I swear you could've heard it.
It was even louder this time, and tears were in her eyes.
I asked her again why she was laughing.
"Because," she replied wiping a tear, "You're different from what I expected, and you're honesty is almost criminal. I can't believe it."
:: :: ::
Mr Johnson let us leave early because something came up. I think his wife was in the hospital, which was very sad to hear.
Getting our things, both of us about to leave, Zoey asked me, "What kind of music do you listen to?"
"I listen to whatever's on the radio, but...I could listen to something different."
"C'm with me then," she suggested, "I'll burn you a CD. Because I can already see the kinda playlist you need."
I followed her car when driving to her house. Easily, I could've, had told her that I already knew where she lived. But that would've came off too stalker-like, and besides I was stuck in the time loop, and completely aware of what I was going through, she wasn't.
Once she pulled into the drive way, I parked in front of her house.
We were now on the porch, and she was unlocking the front door.
"Is your mom home?" I asked.
She stopped trying to unlock the car door for a minute, and glanced at me. "No, she works all the time."
"Oh."
We entered the house, and it did feel familiar because of last time. I was almost confident that Zoey Graves wouldn't in fact commit suicide. Maybe, if I kept her occupied.
After she threw all of her stuff on the couch in the living room, she directed me to the kitchen where her desktop computer was.
She seemed to have a lot of things when it came to anything music related. There, next to her computer desk was a whole stack of audio CDs. "I have more in my room," she said, kind of flustered. "But um, I'm gonna burn you a CD. And you can go home, and not just stay around to be nice. It's okay."
I wanted to tell her that that wasn't the case. But she immediately started to pick out some CDs from the stack that were on a shelf next to the backdoor.
Zoey wouldn't let me see who the artist were. "Go and get a snack from the fridge," she suggested in a friendly way. "If there are any. Do you like pizza rolls?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess they're all right."
"Okay, well, there are some in the fridge."
While the pizza rolls were in the microwave, I told Zoey I needed to use the restroom. She waved me away, indicating that she didn't care at all, and thought that I was absolutely capable of finding the restroom myself.
But the thing was, I didn't need to go to the restroom. I was going to go and snoop around in her bedroom.
Before opening her bedroom door, I looked back and made sure Zoey hadn't sensed anything, or followed me. She hadn't. She was still in front of the computer, switching CDs, and putting them back in their case.
I proceeded to open the door to her bedroom, and didn't expect to see such a well thought out, themed room. She had a vinyl record wall; a collection of vinyl's by different artist were on the wall. Also, she seemed to have a bigger CD collection in her bedroom. CD rack next to CD rack--everywhere. There was also a great amount of vinyl's in a crate on the floor.
I had received my millionth text right then and there. It was from this one guy named Grady. He was pretty cool. Me and him never really talked, because just like Pierce Sanders and I, he preferred to be in things that I really didn't do, such as recreational boxing, playing basketball at the park near the community center, and I heard that he was a saxophone player too. But he was pretty cool to hang out with, and to talk to at parties, and was known to be a great listener, and never said too much; never told anyone someone else's secrets.
simon moore told me you're moving. is it true ?
I frowned. Why did Simon Moore want to spread that false rumor? Even if I was moving, why was that any of Grady's business?
Me:
no. why?
Grady:
becuz, like i said, moore told me you were moving. cuz he said somethin about u gettin' a girl pregnant. that girl bein zoey graves. i'm just tellin' u what i heard. i didn't think it was true, but simon moore was saying sum harsh stuff in athletics bout u. some guys tried to speak in ur defense. but moore shut 'em down. simon moore is scary mad @ you.
Me: i am not moving. simon moore is a liar. why did he even bring up zoey ?
Grady:
cuz like i said man, he scary mad at you for some reason. aren't him and Justice related? I heard u broke up with her.
Me: i didn't impregnate Zoey. and she isn't even pregnant. we've never rlly talked. i'll just have to tell simon moore to fuck off 2morrow.
Grady sent me back a response, but before I could even read it. Zoey had come into her room. "What are you doing in here?"
I looked up from my phone, and let me tell you, she didn't look happy.
"Uh, I thought it was the bathroom."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, what happened to just closing the door, and opening another door to see if it was the bathroom? You know what, don't even answer that. Here's your CD."
TO ISAAC, FROM ZOEY was inscribed on the disc. "Can I play it now?" I asked appetently. "My CD player in my car keeps acting up."
She seemed as if she wanted to refuse at first. The sign being the frustrated sigh she let out. "All right," she said hesitantly.
She put the CD in her vintage looking CD player, and jumped on her bed. I sat down on the floor; facing her and the bed.
"Okay, the first track is I Don't Want to Be by Gavin Degraw."
Once the singer's vocals started in the song, Zoey and I just sat and listened, not saying anything to each other. I'd listened to this song before, more times than I could count. But the lyrics were more understandable now. It was scary, but uplifting.
After the song finished, Zoey told me, "Next song is How to Save a Life by the Fray."
Now that song really was intense. That one struck a chord for some reason. Shit.
"Are you getting emotional?" Zoey asked with a humored smile showing on her lips.
I hid my face, and turned my head. "No." I tried to sound convincing.
She laughed a little bit, but got off her bed and sat down next to me. "Isaac, it's okay. I mean, I cry to songs sometimes too. Like, True Colors by Cyndi Lauper."
"I wasn't crying."
She looked at me, I looked at her. Another song began to play. "Everybody Hurts by R.E.M." She whispered, still not taking her eyes away from mine.
Then, at some point, Zoey's phone rang. She looked at the number briefly, but hung it up immediately. "Oh, it's just Lawson, but...I don't care."
"Yeah, I don't care either."
He called again, but she silenced her phone.
We laughed, and then just continued to stare at each other. There was nothing else said, we'd grown quiet, but I kept looking at Zoey. She didn't look at me though.
"Zoey, I think you're really cool." I said it because I meant it.
She looked at me and blushed. "Eh, thanks. Y-you're pretty awesome too."
A new song began to play. "What's this song?" I asked.
She smiled. "It's God Only Knows by the Beach Boys."
Our faces were at a close proximity now, and I touched her face. She closed her eyes, I leaned in more, and my lips met hers.
Kissing Zoey Graves was nice. The kiss was slow, but there was something very sweet about it; even sweeter than the last time I kissed her. Was I more sure of myself? Was it because I'd actually fallen for Zoey?
What exactly?
Still, it didn't matter, 'cause in this instant, it felt right kissing Zoey.
It felt natural.
While the Beach Boys' song played on the CD player, Zoey and I continued to kiss, not wanting to break away from it any time soon; just in the moment.