Claire's Song (6 page)

“So…I’m here,” he shrugs.

“Come in,” I smile and move back. I lead him down the hallway and upstairs into my room. He stops to study the wall of old photos right before my door.

“Wow, you look exactly the same,” he laughs a little. I've never heard him laugh before. The sound is almost like Jamie’s, the old tinkling of rusty bells.

“Why are you sad?” I blurt out, worry for him and guilt for Jamie causing me to speak without thinking.

Instant flames lick my face and I cover it with my hands, totally embarrassed. I normally never say what’s on my mind, but Ryder just makes it come out somehow.

“I am so sorry,” I mutter while managing to catch his eye. His mouth is gaping open a little and his eyes are wide with more expression than I’ve ever seen in them.

He makes a hand motion, “No, it’s fine. You’re fine. What….what makes you think I’m sad?” Ryder turns towards me and I find myself moving into my room. He follows me and plops down in my rolling chair as I perch on the bed.

After I finally recover, I think about lying to him, but I decide against it. “Because your eyes look like Jamie’s before he…left. It’s like,” I pause a moment, trying to find the right words to say, “you're already dead and I just want to know why.”

Ryder shakes his head and pushes his hair back from his eyes. “Crappy life, I guess. You’ve heard the rumors, right?”

I nod. “I’ve heard a few.” I walk over to my Ipod and start playing Fall Out Boy’s “Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy.” I don’t miss how Ryder’s eyes light up as soon as the music starts. His foot starts tapping as any innate musician's would. The simplicity of the entire scene almost makes me forget what we’re talking about as I suppress a small smile.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” Ryder watches me as I make my way back to the bed.

“I’m a huge fan and of music in general,” I answer lamely, shuffling around my papers. Did I really just say that? I sounded like Lindy.

Ryder lets out a laugh, “Yeah, me, too.” He takes a breath and then continues, “I’m trying to get a gig somewhere around here pretty soon.”  His eyes are sad again, the tiny spark ignited earlier already snuffed out.

“That’s pretty cool, actually. Are you a one man show?”

Ryder starts picking at one of the holes in his jeans, his eyes trained on it as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I write my own stuff and I play the guitar. It’s just one of those things you put on your bucket list, right? Play in front of people although most of them don’t know or care that you exist.”

His words hurt my heart and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. I scoot to the edge of the bed, desperate to keep him from being like Jamie, from keeping everything bottled up inside.

“I could be your groupie,” I reach out and playfully punch him in the arm. His dark eyebrows shoot up and a dangerous smile creeps upon his face before I realize what I’ve said.

RYDER

            Did she just say what I think she said? Because if so, that’s freaking hot. But I feel like I already know Claire better than I should and I know she didn’t mean it like that. I’m still determined to tease her about it, especially seeing how red she's getting and how she’s suddenly found something very interesting on her Converses to poke at.

            “You want to try that out now or what?” I joke, my arm still buzzing from her touch. No one’s just reached out and touched me in forever and I’ve forgotten how much humans crave contact.

            Claire’s face turns ten deeper shades of red, although I didn’t even think that was possible. She’s fumbling all over her words and she’s just so unbelievably cute. The nice guy in me would help her out; give her a line to pull herself out of this awesome hole she’s dug herself. My evil side wins out so I just sit and stare and manage to wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively. If she didn’t blush so much and look cute doing it, I probably wouldn’t torture her this way.

            “You did bring me into your bedroom,
alone
,” I continue to joke.

            “Shut up, Ryder,” she finally laughs and throws a book at me. Thank God it was a paperback.

            Another laugh erupts from me and I realize I’ve felt more alive in the past two days than I have in eighteen years. And it has to stop, because I’ve made up my mind and it’s too late to go back. Everything else sucks and I don’t want to be that guy to rely on Claire for my happiness.

            “Fine, we’ll talk about the rumors and then we get to work,” I finally decide to give her a break. She’s so…innocent and I like that. I like too much about her, the way she purses her pink lips when she’s thinking and the way that she twirls the crazy jagged edges of her hair around her fingers when she’s talking and the semi-hyper tone of her voice when she gets excited for what feels like too short a period of a time.

            Claire nods and her eyes get serious. She scoots even further off the bed, her legs nearly touching mine and I crave her touch like the weird guy that I am. With a hand through my hair, I start, “So, obviously I don't drug girls to get them to make out with me.”

            Claire gives a little laugh and leans forward, dropping her hands between her knees, “I kind of figured that, although to make out with Lindy you would probably need to drug yourself.”

            I laugh. This girl is too good to be true. But I’ve waited too long to meet her. “Yeah, I was kind of high when it happened. She’d been crushing on me for a while and waiting for me to break up with Kyra. When people started to find out about my Mom being a druggie and me living in a run down piece of crap trailer they started changing their tunes. Then Lindy decided to ruin my life and my reputation so no other girl would want me.”

            A shiver rushes through Claire’s body and she’s got this scrunched up look on her face like she’s going to be sick. “Why do I get the creepy weird feeling that she’s still into you? She freaked out when she found out about your pick.”

            I don’t want to admit it, but I’ve wondered the same thing. I had a run in with her not too long ago and it gave me the creeps.

           
My black eye finally healed up from my mom losing it and letting her boyfriend hit me. I tried to fight back, but they threatened to call the cops and say I started it. I stopped fighting, but I don’t know why I care if I go to jail. That would be better than here, anywhere would be better than this trailer. It's crazy to see how rapidly my Mom declined after Dad left. She's not even the same person and I wonder if maybe this is who she was the entire time. Was she always into drugs? Because this is not the personality of a newbie. It caused me to make a few changes in that department. It seems pointless, I know, especially when you're plotting your own suicide, but I don’t want to be anything like her, so I quit smoking pot. That last time was pretty crazy anyway.

            I'm walking through the hallways and I see Lindy. She's watching me carefully, the intent similar to that of a vulture. I look away, wanting nothing to do with her, disgusted that I even fell for her once before. I was in a dark place, am still in a dark place, but at least I have my wits about me. I won’t make the same mistake twice. The only person I can trust is myself. Everyone else is out to get me, lie, and ruin my life, whatever. No one has my back.

            The bell rings and the hall clears within minutes. People actually care about being late to class. I don't. I take my precious time at my locker, switching out books, even though I never do the homework. I feel her presence before I actually see her.

 Lindy is pressed up against my side in the empty hallway, her voice a low purr, "Hey, Ryder."

I step away from her, taking in the way she wears too much makeup, how everything about her looks fake, plastic even. I can’t even believe I hooked up with her and decide to blame it on the drugs.

            "Get away from me," I growl as I slam my locker shut. Never have I ever been in such a hurry to get to class. I hear Lindy's heels annoyingly click clack on the tile. She puts her hand on my arm, and I jerk it off and spin on her. "Get off me."

            Her eyes are huge, but she doesn't give up. "Look, Ryder, I think we're good together and I want to give it another shot. We just…we just have to be more careful, that's all." Is she serious? I can barely believe what I'm hearing. Her words piss me off and it takes everything I’ve got to keep from cussing her out right here in the hallway. The anger pulsates beneath the surface, and I can almost hear it throbbing in my veins.

            "You're nuts. Stay away from me. I can't believe I hooked up with you to begin with, because look at how fake you are. Then there's that part where you ruined my life more than it already was. So, no, I don’t want you. I'll never want you, ever. I was high when we hooked up before. Now leave me alone. Or else," my voice is sinister, but it does the trick. Lindy looks like she's about to cry, her eyes all wide and glassy as she turns on her heel and runs off down the hall. I rub my hands over my face, not believing what just happened. She has to be on drugs. Or she really is just nuts. Either way, I go to class, and decide that I'll be on time to every class from now on.

            If Lindy does still have a crush on me, then she’ll be even crazier than usual to Claire and will probably start spreading more lies about me just to keep her away. Wait, what am I even talking about? Claire and I, we're not together or anything. I don't even know if she's able to think of me like that. Either way, I've got to stop thinking about Claire and how cute she is when she looks at me through those thick black lashes of hers.

            So I shrug in response because on the inside I’m doing this really pansy back and forth thing. I hope she can’t tell.

            “Well, for the record, I don’t believe any of the rumors and I think you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met,” Claire gives me this genuine smile, the one that tips both sides of her lips up and dimples into her cheeks. She’s looking at me like I’m a good guy, like I’m not psycho or sick. I can’t take it because I’m not a good guy.

            “Look, I gotta go,” I get up so quickly that I slam the computer chair back into the desk, intensifying the awkward tension between us, making it a tangible, strange creature.

            Claire hops up from the bed and blocks the doorway with her petite frame. “No way. You can’t just run away whenever someone is nice to you, Ryder. I want…I want to be your friend,” she stammers. She looks so hopeful and the way her beautiful face is turned up to meet mine tears me into pieces. If I move half an inch, I could kiss her if I wanted to. And I wanted to. The feeling is driving me insane, weaving itself through my mind and down into my heart. A panic attack is right on its heels, the squeezing in my chest, my airways tightening. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to steady my breathing.

            “Look, Claire. I really gotta go. I’ll do the bottom half of the assignment and bring it to school on Monday, all right? You don’t understand, but I really gotta go.”

            She must see the desperation in my eyes, because she backs away, completely defeated, shoulders hunched and it makes me want to hug her. The urge nearly overwhelms me because I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and hug her and tell her I’m sorry that I’m a jerk, but that’s all I’ll ever be: a jerk.

            I don’t get the chance because I leave her house and hop in my car. I don’t even know if I'll make it back to the trailer, the urge to cut is gnawing angrily inside my brain. My mind is clouded and all I can think about is dulling the pain. I have a razor in my glove box that I keep for days like this and I know my wrists have healed from the last time, so what’s stopping me? Claire’s pretty green eyes looking at me with desperation stops me momentarily, but then I speed out of her driveway, determined to cut away every memory of her in my brain, to get back to who I really am, not who she makes me want to be.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CLAIRE

There's no way for me to go after him and the worst case of déjà vu gnaws at me, eating away at the carefully glued pieces I have managed to salvage since Jamie’s death. I have no idea where Ryder lives and unease begins to settle deep in my bones. Jamie keeps flashing in and out of my memory with that smile, those sad eyes, and the thought of him dying, alone. The guilt continues to mount with each step I take towards my car and suddenly it feels like I’m chasing after Jamie instead of Ryder. Maybe I can make it in time. My hands are trembling as I shove my keys into the ignition and that familiar panic begins to creep over me again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to make it go away, to push Jamie out of my head, just for now, just because I can’t really take it much more. Lindy’s words still burn and I wonder if that’s what everyone else thinks. His parents didn’t think that, nor did his sister, although I can’t be positive since they sold their house and moved right after it happened. To them, Jamie never existed. To me, he was everything. An unhealthy amount of everything.

Each breath hurts and becomes laborious. My chest feels like someone’s stabbing me and nothing can quiet the overall feeling that I’m losing it. I reach into my pocket for Ryder’s pick and it’s not there. Panicked even more, I just try to breathe slowly and back my car out of the driveway a little faster than intended. My parents would flip out if they knew I was driving during an attack and there was a small part of me, the responsible part that cared, that wondered if maybe I should just let Ryder go. But then Jamie, those gorgeous brown eyes, that perfectly messy black hair and calloused hands comes into view again and I know I have to do it. Concern for my own life does not even become a priority.