Fall Out Girl (23 page)

Look at that scene. Me sitting in that dirty bathroom. The scribbles of girls written on the stall door professing their eternal love to Tim or Jim, or called Jen a bitch and Kathy a BFF, those scribbles reflected who they were. More than could be said about me. I was a nothing, a fake. A counterfeit.

At this point, the jury might want to deliberate, reach a verdict. But please allow me the chance to continue my pathetic tale.

Back at the bathroom stall, I continued to peel layers of me, dissect unknown parts of my soul, study who I really was.

I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t.

I had just put on strong armor. It hurt to look inside the vulnerable, raw part of me, but I didn’t cower. All that I had tried to be, all the façade I had put up, had begun to crumble under Caleb’s gentle touch.

Sitting in that forlorn bathroom, the cold, sharp reality slapped me. I was frail. Vulnerable. We all were. It was part of that thing called humanity. But I had gotten good at pretending otherwise.

With one dimpled smile, Caleb either destroyed or saved me. I wasn’t sure, for on one hand he forced me to stare myself in the eyes. He kindled a sense of love and hope and the ideas of dreams that still flamed inside me. On the other, he destroyed all the parts devoted to those emotions.

Though we can’t change our essence, I wished I had loved Caleb with less intensity. My love for Caleb was hard to describe. I loved him with madness and delirium, music and heartbeat. Time with him was morphine, bliss, shooting stars, and bursts of energy. It was an angel’s choir and angelic bells, rainbows and free falls, giggles and laughter, baptism and rebirth, blue lagoons and lemon drops.

Consequently, life without Caleb was sulfur and grinding teeth, frostbite and thorns, nails on chalkboard and decay. It was pandemonium. It was the Armageddon of Luna, a perpetual lunar eclipse.

I had tried to move on, keep on the brave face, and ignore Caleb and my feelings. I just couldn’t anymore.

Finally, after crying myself a river, I dabbed toilet paper under my eyes and walked out of the stall of enlightenment. It was time to salvage the itsy-bitsy dregs of dignity I had left. Decisive, I splashed cold water on my puffy face and rinsed my bloodshot eyes.

I would put an ending to whatever hopes Andrew had for this night or the future. I would no longer wear a mask. I was tired, exhausted really, of living a façade.

As of that moment, I would be true to myself. Damn the rest of the world.

NOT TO MY surprise, the moment I stepped foot out into the bright hallway, Andrew’s arms snaked around my waist.

“There you are. I thought you’d ditched me,” he slurred in my ear, his teeth against my earlobe.

I writhed from his grasp and stepped back. “Actually, I was gonna tell you that I’m leaving.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Well,
we
are leaving. I have reservations at a hotel…” He staggered toward me, his harsh hands gripping my arms. “And we…” He nuzzled my neck.

His breath was hot and reeked of liquor. A wave of nausea hit me. I turned my face away and planted my hands on his chest, vainly pushing him. “Let go. You’re drunk, Andrew.”

“I’m not too drunk to fuck you, Luna.” He tottered a few steps, forcing me to stumble back until I felt the cold wall against my back.

I tried to squirm from under his gigantic build, but his grip on my arms was a tight vice.

“Let me go—”

His lips pounded against mine with a force that would certainly bruise. His body clustered against me, his hands and his mouth were everywhere. I fidgeted and thrashed under his massive body. “Stop—” But his mouth silenced me again.

Alcohol and lust had impaired his judgment but not mine.

Think, think, think.

I went limp. My fighting body went from a coiled spring with useless bounces and flutters to a plop of Jell-O. His body in an automatic response tried to prevent me from sliding against the wall to the floor.

It was my minuscule chance. I kneed his balls. He reached for his junk with both hands. “Ouch, fuck, ouch.” He stumbled back.

I sprinted way.

“Luna, wait. Fuck, I’m sorry, Luna, I fucked up. Wait,” Andrew called.

I heard the remorse and regret in his voice, but I didn’t look back. With a stagger that clearly contrasted with my common swagger, I zoomed for the front door.

My eyes were burning with tears, and my lips ached. To my despair, I had chosen prom night to release the dam that had always barricaded embarrassing tears, allowing them to stream down in public.

I cracked the door open and a cool breeze embraced me. Grateful for the freedom, I took a deep breath of the cold air. Then I heard the door opening and closing behind me. I lurched back, ready to confront Andrew. This time, he wouldn’t have the chance to corner me.

It wasn’t Andrew.

“Luna, are you all right?” With long strides, Caleb stood in front of me.

“I’m fine.” I turned and ambled away. I didn’t want him to see me crying. I wasn’t a damn maiden in distress.

He quickly caught up with me. “Wait, what—?” He grabbed my arm where Andrew had bruised, and I winced.

“Are you hurt?”

“Go to hell.” I jerked my aching arm free from him and continued my march.

“Did Andrew hurt you?” He followed me.

“No, fuck off.”

“Luna, who hurt you?”

“No one, okay! Nothing happened. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Where are you going?” He grabbed me again. “God damnit, Luna. Will you stop?” He stepped in front of me and blocked my path. “What’s…? What the hell? You’re bleeding.” He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

My hands flashed to my swollen lip, finally realizing my mouth tasted rusty and salty. “I’m fine,” I said, shouldering him to get away.

“Love, please.” Caleb’s arm slid around my waist, and he pulled my back to his chest. “You’re crying… you’re hurt. Please let me help.” His embrace was firm but feathery. His words were such a gentle whisper, a soothing plea.

My body responded before my brain synapsed and commanded action. I leaned my head on his chest for the second time that night. My body went limp. Caleb caught me right before I hit the pavement. I curled into a tight ball in his arms.

“Shh, love, I got you.”

He took me to his car. I was surprised he hadn’t rented a limo for his dates.

Somehow he managed to open the door while holding me. He deposited me on the passenger seat with the care of someone handling a porcelain doll.

With my eyes still closed, I willed the tears to halt. But they rebelliously slid between my closed lids.

I heard the shuffling of leather when Caleb sat next to me. “Do you want to go somewhere? Talk about what happened?”

“I want to go home,” I said with exhaustion dripping in my tone. “Please, take me home.”

He let out a frustrated puff of air. “Luna, talk to me, tell me what happened.”

I opened my eyes. My tear-streaked face turned to him. “Are you gonna take me home or not?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll drive you home,” he said with a defeated expression.

Relieved, I sank deeper into the seat and closed my eyes.

The ten-minute ride lasted a century. Caleb’s presence, so close yet so far, was unadulterated torture. My tears subsided, and an occasional sighing was the only sound inside the car.

My eyes remained closed. I didn’t have enough strength to see Caleb’s face and stop myself from the embarrassment of begging him to give us another chance. Though he had teased me on the dance floor (which was cruel beyond I had ever believed him to be), he had made it clear he was over me, over the silly and fleeting infatuation he had for me. No, I still had an ounce of dignity in my shattered being.

The distant wailing of a siren started to get louder and closer. Caleb slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.

“What? What is it?” I opened my eyes to see the tail of a red truck with a spinning light speeding ahead of us. A shiver ran through me, but I discarded it.

“Just a fire truck,” Caleb answered quietly.

He looked at me as if ready to say something, but he shook his head slightly and drove off.

When he turned the corner to my street, fear clasped my throat. Fire trucks, ambulances, police cars all blocked the way to my house. God, no!

“Jake,” I said. My voice sounded guttural, unrecognizable to my ears. My eyes scanned the chaotic scene. Was it at my house?

“Pull over, pull over.” Before the car stopped, I flung the door open, and my legs swung out.

“Wait, Luna. Fuck. Wait…”

I heard a distant voice, with a tunnel-like quality. I thought it was Caleb’s, but I couldn’t focus. A bright yellow glow emanated from behind the fire engines. Was my house on fire?

I had known the answer before I saw it. I recognized the rush of blood running through my head, the dread spreading through my body. I had felt that same way when I glanced at the surgeons who had operated on my dad.

I sprinted toward the house, but my steps were heavy, clumsy, like walking in thigh-high mud. I lost my footing and fell. The abrasive asphalt scraped my knee and a sharp pain shot up my leg. I ignored it. I had to get to Jake.

I zoomed toward the house, zigzagging through the maze of emergency vehicles. I had a clear line of vision of the house when a set of hands grabbed both my arms and jerked me back. I collided with a hard body. “Let go, let go,” I screamed. “Jake, I gotta get to Jake.” For the second time that night, my body thrashed, writhed, fought for freedom. But this time, the hold was unyielding.

“Shush, love. Shhh, I’ve got you.” I thought it was Caleb’s voice. I wasn’t sure.

Firefighters, with their powerful jets of water, sprayed the fire. Blazing flames with angry hisses, licked and swallowed the droopy house that I had so many times called hell.

Through the inferno, I saw the burgundy shutter still hanging precariously, refusing to allow the flames to destroy it.

“Jake, no. Jake. God, please, not Jake. Not Jake…” My body started to shiver. A cold sensation crawled through my skin. It was as if ice particles coursed through my veins.

My chest felt restricted, and my stomach churned. Without warning, I folded my body and heaved on the sidewalk. Cold hands held my head as my body warped and expelled bile from my empty stomach. My soul, my mind vainly tried to purge the fear, the certainty of what had happened. But only the yellowish liquid came out.

I vaguely recall the remainder of the night. An officer approached us, asked questions I couldn’t answer. Caleb responded to some of the genetic questions on my behalf.

Time passed, minutes, hours—I lost track. The house turned into a semi-destructed skeleton with patches of black coal against the wall, smoke bellowing from the dead structure.

“Hello, you must be Luna. I’m Jackie Smith. I’m a social worker working with DCF.” She flipped the papers attached to a clipboard. “I see here that you’re a minor for another few days.”

“Yes,” I answered. My eighteenth birthday was a few days away.

“I’m going to help you figure things out tonight, all right?” Probably the cops had called her in.

I nodded.

Although I didn’t remember Caleb calling his mom, at one point I saw Ana talking to the social worker.