As soon as I hear the bell that signals the end of the school day, I'm darting between my classmates and through the halls. Behind me, I hear a brief, high pitched snicker that I know for a fact is directed at my back, but I refuse to give the offender the satisfaction of knowing that it got my attention whatsoever.
I travel in the direction of my locker. After all, that's the place that Henry and I figured we'd meet up for the rest of the school year. Even though I won't be staying with him past the day when my family comes home, Henry insists that we still meet up and hang out. He doesn't want me to get distant again.
I don't want him to get distant, either. He's too good for that.
When I get to my locker, Henry's already there. My locker is already open, and as he sees me, he breaks out into a smile. I slow down as I get closer to him, feeling better than moments ago.
"How was your day? Did you pass your french test?" I ask, a smile emerging on my face as well.
"Ouais, ma cherie," he murmurs boyishly, fake french accent and all. A dimple forms on his cheek and his grey eyes get brighter, drier. I find myself searching them for the meaning to his words because, although I've taken french, I hardly remember half the things I learned.
"Was that a yes?" I ask, feeling dumb.
"Yeah, and my day was okay, but it just got better. Anyway, how were your last classes?" He asks, suddenly taking my heavy books from my arms and placing them on the middle shelf of my locker.
I shrug my shoulders. "See?" I poke his arm. "Told you you'd pass your test. And my classes were better than I expected. Way better than how people acted yesterday," I admit, handing him my backpack.
It's true. Yesterday, before the drama broke out in the cafeteria, I was given the evil eye, ignored by almost everyone. They thought I did something wrong to get kicked from the team, when in all reality, it was just that I didn't go to enough games. When people found that out, most figured that they should be kind to me, show some respect, while others just didn't say or do anything at all.
It wasn't too long ago that these people at school appreciated my effort on the team, praised my performance and thrive. Now, it's almost as if that never existed. All I'd meant to the team, flushed down the drain.
It's funny how quickly people can change their perspectives on other people. How quickly a person can become gullible to anything he or she is led to believe. It's frustrating, because most of the time, no one truly knows who or what to believe from the start when it comes to rumors and gossip. It's all just a bunch of bull, which causes a lot of people to want to believe whatever their friends or family believe.
I'm guilty of it, but that doesn't mean I don't hate it.
While he holds my bag by it's handles, I unzip the largest pocket and take out my physiology book. I thrust my arms up and push my book all the way to the highest shelf. After shutting my locker, I reach to grab my bookbag from Henry, but he shakes his head. I sigh, biting back a smile, and try to snatch it from him again.
I miss almost completely. My fingers graze the side.
He laughs. "Too slow."
I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on. Do you want me to tackle you to this floor?"
He mimics me by rolling his eyes in the most exaggerated fashion. I can't hold the smile back anymore and let it reveal my teeth.
"Henry!"
"Fine, here," he says humorously. I take my bag from his hands and slip it on. I let go a relaxed breath, seeing that the bag isn't as heavy anymore.
"Thanks," I murmur to him.
"No worries."
We finally turn to leave for his car, and to my surprise, the hallway is almost deserted. I realize that we've been here at my locker for an extra five more minutes than necessary, although it doesn't feel like it was that long at all.
Time sure does pass by fast when I'm in his presence. Almost leaves me scratching my head.
"Do you have to go by your locker?" I ask as we walk from mine.
"Nope," he states, popping the 'p'.
I bob my head to music that doesn't exist. "Okay, coolio. What's on the agenda for this afternoon..." I come to a complete stop, my eyes feet two face that I don't want to see, doing something that makes my face crumble in disdain.
Henry, unaware of why I've stopped talking, turns around to face me. His expression goes from nonchalant to discombobulated to concerned as fast as lightning flashes. "Jesse?"
The person I hate most right now, Chance, has his arms wrapped around- get this- Tory Wainbrooke's waist. He's staring at her, eyes staring straight into hers, not mine, not Flo's, but Tory's.
I feel myself getting angry. I was being played worse than I thought. All that fucking time we had alone and I don't find out until now that he's just like Cooper. Hell, he's cheating on Flo with the girl who Cooper cheated on me with.
Drama galore. I never signed up for this! Why didn't I stay away from relationships? I should've stayed in my place, off the team and on the boardwalk trails. From the start, relationships weren't my thing. Now, after attempting, I've screwed myself over. Twice.
My eyes move their focus to Henry. By now, he's already followed where my gaze has shifted from. His back is stick straight and his knuckles are white from the way he's clenching his fists.
Henry used to never get angry like this, regardless of how hard someone pushed his buttons. I've been seeing a brand new side of him recently, the side that doesn't want to be messed with, the side with less self-control. It's weird because I'm usually the one with no self control.
"What are they doing?" I hear Tory mock-whisper. Her voice carries on purpose, she obviously wants to rub it in my face: She can have any guy she wants, even mine.
Even though Chance wasn't mine to begin with.
My eyes snap back to them just in time for Chance to pull his hands off of her as if he just put them in fire. "Wow," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Listen..."
"Don't talk to us," Henry says, pushing his glasses up a little bit. He means business. Tory's eyes flick to his, fully seductive, but he pays her no mind. "Don't say shit to either of us. This," he says, pointing between Tory and Chance, "Is not our business. Just stay from Jessie or we'll have a problem."
"What's your name again?" Chance asks him rudely.
Henry's hands are shaking, skin turning red. Now the rolls have switched, as I'm now super concerned about him. This isn't normal, for him to respond this way.
"Henry," I call, my voice shaking. "Henry, don't worry about him."
Henry doesn't say anything. He just keeps staring Chance down. I want to stand here in shock, but I don't allow myself to. I step in front of him, grabbing his face with my hands. I shift his head back and forth until his eyes meet mine.
I'm almost thrown back by the heat I feel from them. He has this look I've never seen before, it's like an angry, I'm-out-for-blood glare, mixed with something else.
"Come on. Please?" I plead.
Henry's eyes move past my head one last time before he nods his head. His jaw is set, surprising me even further. I keep one of my hands clasped around his forearm as we walk away. As badly as I want to look over my shoulder, I don't.
We walk to his car. I push toward the passenger side and slide into the driver's seat. Without me having to ask, he hands me his keys. The sound of his heavy breathing is still present, and although he doesn't look as angry, I feel like I need to let him calm himself down before I say anything. I think he will want time to think.
Why do I feel guilty for this entire situation? Did I do something wrong, because if so, I don't recall what.
I crank the car up and adjust the rear-view mirror a tad, just to be safe. As I pull out of the school parking space, I make sure to be as gentle as possible. We're both pretty distracted by what just happened, and there is no way I can risk crashing his car.
I don't touch the radio, mostly because then he might feel like I'm angry or trying to ignore him. I don't want him to feel like I don't care, but I don't want to be too pushy, either. I would hate to be bothered if I were that mad.
"Why did you even like him to begin with?" Henry asks, turning to face my right side.
I almost hit the brakes when he says this, but I keep in mind that I have to pay attention.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. I saw the way you looked at him during your games, the way you responded to his attention. I just saw the look you had when you saw him with Tory. You looked broken, Jessie," he rants. "You looked completely upset and surprised. I hate seeing your face like that. What did he do to make you fall in love with him? Enlighten me, because I don't see how."
I glance over at him briefly before switching back to the road. My heart is banging in my chest and I resist the urge to pull over. "I don't love him."
Henry scoffs. "You do to l-"
I cut him off. "I don't love him, Henry. I liked him very much, but knowing that I was toyed with more than Cynthia in Rugrats, I know I can't love him. Sure, I wanted him. I realize that, but it turns me off that after I leave for a day or two, he has two girls satisfying his need for attention and who knows what else, when I was by his side for months," I breathe, gripping the wheel tightly. I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, yeah, it hurts, but I can get over it. It might take time, but you know that I don't give my entire heart away. I just have to take time to get the rest back."
It's quiet for a while and I feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of my face. From my peripheral vision, I see him nod his head. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. I don't ask.
Eventually, I pull into the giant garage of his giant house. I turn the car off and step out of the car with him. As we walk side by side to the front door, I feel the presence of his arm so close to mine. Before I forget, I push his keys into the palm if his hand. My fingertips travel against the palm of his hand to his wrist, and then I pull my hand away.
"Jessie?" Henry asks as soon as we get to the door. He puts his palms on on shoulders and stills me with his gaze.
"Dude, what?" I ask, dazed.
He looks serious. "Promise me you won't go after him. In this situation, girls always pick the bad boy over- over anyone else. Please don't be that girl, Jess."
I find truth in his words. Most girls do still chase after the sexy, bad boy that everyone either loves or hates (in this case, loves). It's the idea of changing him or fitting in somewhere into his life that sends those girls into a frenzy- most of the time. Other reasons are still a possibility too, but those possibilities are very slim.
I close my eyes and let out a breathe. "I'm not like other girls," I recite, just like I always said to Chance, except in a serious, more meaningful way. "I promise I won't go back to him. I mean, he's still friends with people I have a little respect for, but other than that, I don't need to associate with him." I mean that. I don't want him to mess me up like so many other girls have been from a guy like him.
Henry looks relieved. He pulls me into his chest and gives me a brief hug. I feel my stomach flip, but I think it's just because I'm hungry or something.
"I just don't want you to get heartbroken, okay?"
"Okay. I won't."
***
"Jessie, do you want to see my dix fouettes en tournant?" Julia asks excitedly as she enters the front door after dance practice. Right now, they're doing ballet. She's doing great, and it's even better that she took ballet as a child.
I've been sitting in the living room with Henry playing Monoloply while waiting for Julia to come home. Robert started dinner not to long ago, while Teresa went to pick Julia up.
"Of course I do," I smile. As I'm standing up from my place in front of the monopoly board, Julia grabs my arms and pulls me after her. For a little girl, she'd so strong! I almost trip and fall, but I catch my balance and follow after her.
"You girls be careful!" Teresa calls after us. I peer over my shoulder and give her a thumbs up, and after she turns away, I see her start a quiet convo with Henry.
Probably something about his parents.
"Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay," Julia says, stopping me at the door of her practicing room at home. It's not very large, but it's more spacious than the average bedroom size.
"What's it called again? A plie or something?"
Julia giggles, a cute little giggle that makes me wish I had a younger sister of my own. "No, silly," she laughs. "It's 'dix fouettés en tournant'. It's like ten lifted turns. Watch!"
I watch her as she moves to the center of the floor. A few whisps of her dark hair twirl along the frame of her face and she blinks her blue eyes a few times before standing on the very tip of her toes.
I wouldn't ever be able to do that in my life, no matter how much practice I would've had.
Next, she bends one knee and places the foot of that same leg on the thigh of the leg she's standing on. Her toes are still pointed effortlessly. In the last of her formation, she puts her arms out to her sides and keeps balance with no hesitation or trembling. I want to clap just for that.
All of a sudden, Julia's twirling around in circles on that one leg, one foot, and only a few toes. Even without music, there's a beauty to the movement, and for the briefest second, I'm jealous of her talent. It's gone as fast as it comes, but I still wish I could do it. She does ten twirls in total, and then when finished, she takes a deep bow.
I lift my arms up and clap as loud as possible.
"How did I do?'
I lift my hands up to give her a high five. "Awesome! That was so professional. Wish I could do that, Julia," I explain.
Julia gives me a double high five. "I could teach you," she says, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"I don't think I could ever do as good as you, but thanks," I admit, smiling at how kind and outgoing she is for her age. "Ready to go back upstairs? Play monopoly?"
Julia scrunches up her nose. "That takes too long! I'm going to play Poptropica," she says, running behind me. I hear her feet tapping lightly on the floor of the hallway as she runs to play the online game.
I can't help but laugh out loud at how much I used to love that game. Still do, actually.
With a cheesy smile on my lips, turn to leave her practice room and run into something hard. I don't remember a wall behing behind me. I rub my nose and close my eyes. "Ouch."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Henry's voice says. My eyes fly open and meet his. I feel my face get warm from not knowing he was behind me. Suppose I'd started trying to do what Julia did, those ballet moves? I'm embarrassed over nothing.
"It's fine, I'm good," I laugh awkwardly. I take a step or two back from him and run a hand through my hair.
Henry chuckes deeply and pulls a few envelopes from behind his back. "Remember how I said I was waiting to get some acceptance letters in the mail?" He asks, a nervous expression taking over his look.
"Yeah?"
"Well..." He shoves the four envelopes into my hands. "Can you read them? I know, I'm a wuss, but hearing it from you will make it better to be rejected.
I quirk an eyebrow. "Seriously? Won't you be embarrassed if I find out that you didn't get accepted? I mean, I know you got accepted into all of these schools already, but... still, are you sure."
"I am," he says, propping himself against the frame of the door. "Please don't laugh."
"No promises," I joke, placing three of the four envelopes under my arm. I neatly open the envelope of the other, this one for Georgetown University, all the way in Washington, DC. I applied here too, but I'm not so sure I got in. I read the first lines of the letter aloud. "Dear Henry, welcome to Georgetown University!"
"Yes!" I hear him say. I look over the top of the paper and see his eyes going into that pale state, the one when he's happy. I bite back my smile and hand him the paper and envelope. Next is UCSB. I read the first line and sum it up. "You got accepted for UCSB," I say, waving the envelope in front of him. I also applied here, and I'm pretty confidant I got accepted, but who knows? I could be wrong.
Henry nods, running a gand through his hair. I watch the dimple easily come and go and disappear and reappear on his cheek. I take my eyes away from him and focus on the next envelope. "This one's from Yale," I announce to my audience of one. I feel nervous for this one. Yale is very hard to get into. I open the envelope and frown as I read the first line.
He didn't get in.
I look up at him and see him watching my facial expression. He bites his lip, still harboring the tiniest smirk, and shrugs. "It was worth a try. I still have some good options. Can you read the last one?
Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod and hand him the Yale envelope. I open the last letter and forget to read which school it is. I shrug and open up the letter. "We are excited to inform you that you have been accepted into Stanford University." A proud, surprised smile fights it's way on my lips, "You and thirty-four undergraduates have been selected out of thousands of undergraduate admissions to participate in our undergraduate journalism program," I practically scream. He got into Stanford, one of the most prestigious universities in the freaking world!
Before I know it, Henry's lifted me up and against his chest so that my feet don't touch the ground. He spins us around, our laughter tangled together.
"Oh, my God!" I squeal, squeal. "Congratulations, Henry! I'm so, so proud of you. I knew you'd get into your colleges."
Henry puts me down and gives me the tightest hug. I hug him back, anxious, and take a step back. I hand him his Stanford envelope and almost dance with glee.
"Let's go tell Teresa and Robery," Henry suggests, grabbing my hand, leading me down the hall and around the corner to the livingroom, then from the living room to the kitchen. We're running in the house, breaking one of the only rules, but I think this is an exception.
As soon as we're in the kitchen, Robert turns and places a tray of lasagne on the counter. He starts cutting it with a knife into little squares before he notices us.
"Oh, hello. What's got you two so eager to be in the kitchen?" He asks, a smile hiding in his words. He goes back to cutting the lasagne while still paying attention to us.
For a second, I'm side-tracked on the smell of the delicious, cheesy food. My mouth waters, but I shake away the distraction as best I can.
"I got accepted into Stanford, UCSB, and Georgetown," Henry says happily, holding up all of his envelopes. I nudge his arm with my shoulder, smiling like an idiot.
"Congradulations! This calls for a celebration. What kind of dessert should Teresa make?" Robert asks.
Henry drums his fingers against the counter, then fixes his glasses on his face. "Instead of celebrating tonight, how about this weekend we go to Max's house? We could spend the day there on Saterday and find something fun to do."
"Who's Max?" I ask, confuzzled. Surely, he means a different Max than I know. The world isn't that small, right?
"He's my cousin, my father's sister's son. He lives about a mile away, not far from here."
"Oh, well I'm all in?" I say in question form. I bite the inside of my cheek. It does really matter to me.
Henry stares at me, his eyes still pale. "Hey, how about we go outside and watch the stars after we eat dinner?" He asks, starting to drum the counter again.
My mind reminds me of the party I went to with Chance. We watched, counted the stars, talked. It was bitter-sweet.
I wish I could delete certain memories, though. Especially one's that were fake.
Maybe if I go out under the stars with Henry, something bad will happen to our friendship. I don't want that to be the case; I value him as a friend almost as much as I value Erika and Anna. He always has my back, knows me well. Not just what I do, not just what I like, but knows who I am as a human being.
My chin rests on my fist, elbow on the counter. It's not until now that I realize Henry's been staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer. I flash him a smile. "Sounds like a plan."
"Can I come out, too?" Julia asks out of nowhere. I didn't even know she was in the kitchen with us. She said she was going to play Poptropica.
Henry turns around to face her. I guess he knew she was here the entire time. "No, you have to go to sleep, remember? It's a school night," he says gently, picking her small figure up, hoisting her to his side like she's as light as a feather.
"Julia, come help me set the table, sweetheart," Teresa calls.
"Are you guys going to be kissing? Is that why I can't come out?"
I almost fall to the kitchen tiles when I comprehend what she said. I feel my eyes expand the size of golf balls and my face become consumed with scolding heat. In this moment, I'm completely at a loss for words.
"If you kiss him, you'll get cooties. Don't do it, Jessie! I'm serious!" Julia's little voice warns. She fidgets from Henry's arms and runs to the dining room, where Teresa called her from.
To my left, Robert is laughing so hard that he's cluching his stomach. "She-" he cuts himself off by laughing, "... She was s-so serious!" he guffaws.
I feel my entire body go rosy, and when I peak over at Henry, he's blushing furiously. He keeps playing with the handle of his glasses. "We should- er, we should go sit at the table for, you know, dinner."
"Right," I agree, pushing myself from the counter and following him at the kitchen.
Why do awkward moments arise at the most randomest of times?
***
"Remember when Stacey used colored sharpies to put makeup on her baby's face?" I ask, nose scrunched in disgust. "She autonomically failed for damaging School property."
Henry's face lights up in remembrance. "I do, I felt bad for Trevor. He had to deal with her temper tantrums."
I laugh, throwing my head back against the small tree that we're under. We can still see the stars from beneath it, so it was the perfect spot to sit in his backyard.
While his head rests in my lap, I gently comb through the hair on his head. My back is against the tree, keeping me upright. Henry's picking strands of grass from the ground, twisting them, allowing me to touch his hair.
We used to do this all the time when we had our graded baby project. In moments like these, the toy never cried, which was pretty creepy, but comfortable nonetheless.
Coming back out here like this puts us in our memories. The class we met in used to be my least favorite, but now as I reflect, I know that I should've liked it more.
"I don't know if you remember when Jason threw his baby at the wall and created that entire statement about how we aren't ready to raise kids and how the project was pointless?"
I think for a second. "Vegetarian Jason, right? Yeah, I do. It was ironic because he got Kate preggo two weeks later."
"Yup. Hey, I have a question," he murmurs.
"Go on," I tell him. I stop playing with his hair.
Henry shifts his head so that he meets my eyes. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and I have to try my best not to stare too long. I flick my eyes up to the stars, and then back at his eyes.
"Have you ever just sat back and counted stars?"
I feel my heart droop a little bit in this all too familiar situation. I should've braced myself. I bore into his eyes and smile sadly. "Yeah. But I never end up counting them all."
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A/N: (brace yourself, it's long. Some of it's important)
Peoples. Hi. Hello. I'm happy. Why? Because I finally will have my first 1k votes on my stories collectively by the end of the week, possibly the end of the day. I can not explain to you how excited I am.
Anyway, thanks for reading another chapter of my story Derbyball! It took me only two and a half days to write, an achievement of sorts (pour moi). I just hope it's good enough.
IMPORTANT: Guys, I have something to say, please don't get upset! I was wondering if I should take away the character roles? Sometimes imagining the characters is better, interesting even. Please tell me what you think about that?
Also, I NEED A NEW COVER! :D I want it to be fashionable, proffessional almost (if possible)! If interested, please message me.
Thanks for reading Derbyball, don't forget to vote and comment. I'm kind of winging this story right now, my original plot went out the window a WHILE ago. Sorry about grammer/spelling errors as well.
Love you all!
~Crystal