An: again, no real editing. Errors might just be everywhere. mind that they are freshman in high school.
A month later, October 23 2010
AC_004 was Anthony Chalamet.
His two messages were from 2008. One explained that he asked my then friend, Violet for my username and the other told me to enjoy Boston. He even recommended a restaurant. Who, at age twelve, does that?
"I can't believe you said yes!" Amanda uttered, plopping onto my bed as I went into my closet, in search for my favorite sweater (it's white with my name embroidered at the sleeve.)
"I didn't know what to say." I reply out of truth, Anthony's choice of words left me dumbfounded. It was as if he agreed for me.
"And what about your mom? Did you tell her? What did she say?" Her questions collapsed onto each other as my arm extended to reached for the shoe box that contained the phone my dad gave me,
"I haven't told her."
And just when I opened the box, she stood in the doorway, pulling back her black hair, "So what you going to do?"
Her arms folded, pressing her shoulder against the door, "Not to be rude but your mom seems a bit—
Our eyes re-met, and I knew she was going to use the word I had in mind, "Controlling."
I closed the shoe box and placed it back where it was, all while responding, "She knows his family, I'm sure she'll be okay with it."
Still, she had an overbearing concern. "How are you so calm about the whole thing?"
Walking past her, I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."
"Does that mean you like him?" she pushed, turning in my direction.
Lord. Have. Mercy. God, no.
"No— I— I don't like him." At that point my brows were pulling out of frustration.
"So why are you going on a date with him!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms which triggered the pounding against my temples. "I don't know! I guess I'm—"
And before you could see, I sprinted to the bathroom and within a quarter of a second I was hurling into the toilet bowl.
"See, you should've said no! I told you it was a bad idea!"
At that point, I was tried of her voice.
"Amelia! Amanda! Mrs. Almara is waiting!"
"Here."
Amanda handed me a lap size of toilet paper but just as I thought the hurling stopped, another flow of stomach acid splashed into the water again.
"Should I get your mom?"
I shook my head a no before releasing another upchuck then felt the mucus gush up my throat. Spitting, I motioned her away. She immediately closed the door behind her.
Completely dazed by the cause, I placed my hand on the end of the sink, aiding the strength to get up. Immediately, I took water by the hand and rinsed my mouth, spitting and exhaling deeply.
Still, the migraines raged and before opening my mirror, I saw my displeasing image.
Eww, at it's finest.
Inside the compartment, I grabbed my anxiety pills and opened it. Taking two to the mouth, I leaned over to drink another round of hand cups of water, allowing the medication to process and like any other episode of mine, my tears began to fill my eyes and the need to swallow couldn't be done. It felt as if the bridge of my throat wasn't aligned.
It should be said that my anxiety started in Boston- I remember the size of the elevator and the grade I got for my presentation. The walls were enclosing and all I could hear was the echos of my mom yelling, and according to my therapist, my only defense mechanism was self generated pain, which explains the times I scratched my legs and arms.
All due to the trauma and abuse my mom created.
(We have therapy together, once a week.)
_
"Are you okay?" Amanda whispered when Mrs. Almara dropped us off at the entrance of Merrick High School.
"Yeah. It happens sometimes."
Especially when there's so much yelling.
She mumbled with hits of sympathy, "Well, I'm glad that you're okay."
"Thanks."
As you can tell, we aren't the closest but as you can see, we are working on it.
Now, you are probably subconsciously wondering what happen to Violet. Well, she no longer goes to GC Academy. How do I know?
Well, we encountered each other in the locker room last month. Turns out, her dad could no longer afford private school and she now attends Long Beach High School. It seemed after that day, I re-became nonexistent which is accepting. Friends, as the saying goes, enter and leave your life.
"Look, Michael is here!" Amanda squealed, grabbing onto my arm.
"What do you think he said? I'm so scared! No— what are you doing? Let's go this way!"
Taking me from the direction I was going, she continued to pull on my arm, "But we have to sign in."
We came to a stop by a water fountain and a group of waiting chairs. "Can you sign in for me?" she whispered as if there was some sort of secrecy.
My brows pulled, "Are we allowed to do that?"
"Yeah, go!"
She literally turned and shoved my body. Continuing to walk, I felt my eyes roll and when passing the group of boys, I heard a few snickers. It drove up my nerves but still, I had to approach the table. The lady with a clipboard in hand, smiled. "Hi, what school?"
Parting lips, I almost whispered my response, "GC Academy."
Thankfully, she heard me and flipped through the color coded papers and held out the clip board, displaying a pink sheet, "Sign here and grab a number from this pile."
Quietly, I signed in for Amanda and handed back our signatures. Then as she informed new instructions, I grabbed two numbers, "The girl's locker room is down the hall, at the very end, you'll go left."
Before turning away I thanked her and when walking away, I didn't expect Amanda's crush to holler my name. Turing around, he approached me, towering over with a note in hand, "Could you give this to Amanda for me?"
Nodding, I grasp it's texture and also... I didn't expect him to smirk with a compliment directed towards me. "You're very cute, too."
I could feel my cheeks blossom like... roses. But I didn't like the feeling, the event dropped my stomach. I could even see/ imagine my guts falling to the floor as I walked back to Tamara.
"Did he give you the note!"
It wasn't a question, her excitement snatched the folded paper out my hand as my mouth formed an 'O'. My eyes saw the drastic change in expression when she opened it.
"What did he say?" I whispered, feeling stupid the moment those words left my lips. Shaking her head, she crumbled the paper and answered, "He's stupid anyway."
As the paper hit the floor in front of me, she stormed off. My eye shifted from Michael (who was smiling over his shoulder) to the rejection I just witnessed... and for the majority of our meet, I analyzed her face, and when Mrs. Almara and I dropped her off, I concluded that I never want to be in that position.
Ever.
—
Following day, after Sunday church.
"You could've just said no!"
Amanda, as you can see through the screen on laptop, she was in a... better or fake mood. But I couldn't find the courage to ask if she was truly okay. If I could, I'm sure I would but didn't so I responded to the perpetual comment on the date I agreed to.
"I know— But I'm going and there's nothing I can do to change that."
"Last year Lily went out with him and she said he was a jerk."
"Jerk, like how?" I asked, out of pure curiosity. I wanted to know an example of such a label.
"He took her to watch a movie and the entire time he was on his phone, he hardly said a word to her then after the movie was over, they got into separate cars. He literally had someone drive her home."
Rejection like Michael did to you, said the sarcastic part of my conscience but also, a fear that it might happen to me came to mind. But instead of allowing that feeling to cascade over me, my brows pulled at the... convenience of "separate cars". It's something my dad would do. So in response I sorta... sided with Anthony.
Surprising, I know. "Maybe because he felt awkward. It makes sense."
She pulled a smile, "Never mind. Maybe you and Anthony would be great together."
"It's just a date."
And nothing more.
Sighing, I pushed back my hair, "Well, I better go— he's going to be here in fifteen minutes."
"Okay, I'll be up when you get back, FaceTime me if you can!" she squealed.
"Yeah, we'll see."
Could you hear the tiredness in my voice?
No?
Well, I am. I woke up at 5, read the articles my dad sent me,showered, got ready, went to a youth assembly at my church, attended the three hour sermon, help serve lunch for my church, sat in the church's "administration office" to format November's events, came home, took a shower, and now... as you can see, I'm here ending a conversation with a friend.
"Bye!"
After extending the 'e', she hung up and I closed my laptop. Shifting my head to the open of my room, I sighed for the millionth time and just when the silence was fuzzing into my ear, my mom's voice came from the door way, "You look nice."
Turning my head, I answered. "Thanks."
Unlike luring or dragging as a parent would, she cut down to the reason she entered my room. "I have something for you."
Taking a seat on my bed, she patted the vacant spot at her side. I followed the silent order and she started on the origins of a family thing, "Your grandma gave me this when I was about your age— it's a first date thing we do- all your aunts are most likely doing the same for your cousins."
Opening the box, I saw a necklace with a golden rose on display.
"It's 18 carrot gold, you should never lose it." she added.
"It's beautiful" I commented, followed by a gulp. I could never feel comfortable with my mom.
"And one day, you'll give it your daughter."
(Then she'll give it her's, then to her's her's, to her's her's. I get it.)
A silence followed so I furrow my brows and asked a genuine question, "What was— what was your first date like?"
"We went to a church formal, it was nice."
How romantic. I'm sorry the sarcasm is just there.
"What was his name?"
And I knew before she said,
"He's your father."
How... sad.
—
We sat in the back of a moving Benz Truck and thankfully, Anthony wasn't resembling the boy from Amanda's story. "I was thinking we can watch the new twilight movie."
(AN: Yes I know that movie came out like 5 months earlier that year, I just needed it to fit the chapter.)
"Yeah, that's be fine."
"So did you, did you finish your presentation?" he furthered and gave a nod while adding to the conversation, "I chose a report on how crime increases during the summer."
"Really? That's interesting. I choice the study on fossil fuel and how it effects the economy."
I was solely impressed. His topic reminded me of—
"My dad—"
Just as I was about to explain, my brain re-function into a— "Nevermind."
Shaking his head gave me the reassurance to continue, "No what were you going to say?"
"Uh, my dad works with stocks, he would probably know a lot about that. If—"
There was no going back, my offer had to follow. "If you need help, you could write down some questions and I can ask them for you."
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it, Amelia."
Gulping, a silence fell and I turned toward the window, closing my eyes out of stupidity.
What did I just do... Getting more involved with him was the opposite of what I wanted!
He snatched a question pertaining to our... date,"Have you read the books?"
"No, I haven't. Nor have I seen the first movie."
"Oh! Do you want to watch something else, we can if you—"
"No, it's fine— I don't mind." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I don't mind."
"Sorry," he chuckled. Firming my lips, I shook my head. "It's okay."
"I thought every girl knew this vampire series." He forced, as if it was necessary to continue his apology.
"It's fine."
Before an awkward silence re-demanded the atmosphere he brought forth a question, "So how was living in Boston?"
"It was okay."
"My aunt lives out that way, she's a journalist for New York Times."
"What's her name?"
"Meredith L Rossen."
"She sounds familiar." I swore, I thought my sarcasm was heard.
"Yeah, your mom did an article on her a few months ago." he answered.
Wow. Really. Yet— "I was joking."
"Oh, I— I didn't realize you were—" He looked toward the floor then turned his smiley expression in my direction, "I didn't realize you were being sarcastic."
The drive from there carried (and carried) but once we got to the theater, cars were surrounding the place. Some were even parked outside the fence.
People walking all about the parking lot. It seemed this vampire movie was worth it but immediately my eyes took notice of the surprisingly short line at the booth.
Together, we got off at the entrance, yet again my attention latched onto a digital number above the booth,
4.
"I think that thing" my hand and index motion toward the display, "tells us how many tickets are left."
Taking a look at his expression, I could see that he was formulating an idea, and his quick action surprised me. Yet, when we surpassed the group huddling around the booth his words resembled something my dad would say, "I'll pay double and give you a tip if you give me two ticket."
"You have to be fucking kidding me!" said a voice with physical aspects that became more familiar when I saw the person beside her,
Gus.
And just a second later, his eyes landed on mine. It was unbelievable. As you can assume, time stopped. Completely, entirely stopped.
However, when my eyes rolled an inch to the side, Emma saw my existence as well.
Did she recognize me? Maybe yes, maybe no but it didn't matter because when my eyes re-engaged with his. I couldn't believe it... but just when I was about to engulf the possibility of this being an illusion or a sick mind trick, Gus's attention turned to the sight of Anthony exchanging a solid fifty for two tickets which most definitely ruined Gus and his friend's plan to watch the movie as one.
But more so, this was an ironically ironic situation, being that I was on a date with the boy that called Gus a faggot.
What a fate for this to occur.
And I could go into detail about walking away with Anthony and how it felt...
Or describing the red on Anthony's face when he dropped an overpriced bucket of popcorn (just seconds after he bought it...)
Or explain the attempt he made to hold my hand at some point during the movie but I could care less about all that...
If there's one thing that should be said it's that I saw Gus for the second time, outside the movie theater. He just done a trick on his skateboard and so simply, he looked over.
Lifting my arm, I sent a wave before Anthony saw.
And when home, I laid on the rug with sentimental objects (such as my jewelry box, the multiples of folded paper, the blade, and the broken Blink 182 CD pieces) surrounding me, as if I were a sacrifice. As for the stale nine year old candy bracelet, it hugged my wrist, rightfully clinging onto my warmth. Each hadn't seen the moon (nor sun) and together we absorbed the moonlight, and if you look to the far back, you can see the Scooby Doo nightlight, settings at off because of the moon's full capacity.
In mind, there was a montage of Gus but the night of '03 was mostly remembered, especially in rose colored glasses.
🐥