Tethered (8 page)

“I’m not ready for all of this,” I said to Emmet, and gently pushed his hand off of my cheek. “You were right. I’m too young and dumb for this, and I’m okay with that. I want to be young and dumb for a while.”

I stepped away from him and waited for his reaction. He looked pained and I felt bad. I loved Emmet, too and I would never want to hurt him, but I had to do the right thing. Not many girls my age were able to think clearly like that, especially after kissing a guy.

“Okay,” he breathed. He looked so disappointed. “I get it. I’ll take you home.”

He picked up his board and walked towards his car without looking back to see if I would follow.

Several months passed by and it had felt like a lifetime had slipped past us since Emmet had given me my first kiss in that empty parking lot, the same day my father overdosed and died. Much changed since that day. My dad’s death did something to my mother – like a good something. After my dad’s small funeral service, my mom checked herself into a hospital. She was in there for a month, and when she came out she returned there three times a week for therapy. She took care of herself now, and she tried to take care of me. I was spending more time at home and less time at the Graynes’, trying to get reacquainted with the mother that had been absent most of my life. I could have been a bitter teenager and rebelled against her, but I was a grateful teenager. I had a mother that really did love me underneath all of her grief and self-loathing, even if she was unable to verbalize it and another family that loved me like a daughter and sister – and…whatever I was to Emmet.

That tether never did go away and though we weren’t physically closer, as in we weren’t kissing, I felt closer to him on other levels. I could look at him without making any kind of expression and he could read my eyes and vice versa. Sometimes he looked at me like he wanted to kiss me, but he never tried. His eyes always said “I want to, but I won’t. I respect you.” We still hung out and skated together from time to time but we talked about trivial things or we were completely silent. At least we were friends, and for some time, we evaded the teenage angst that accompanies the relationships with the opposite sex, but we did not escape unscathed. Eventually, the angst caught up to us.

*~*~*

I could feel him coming down the hallway before I even looked up to see him. I told myself I wouldn’t even look, because what’s the point. I pulled my locker open and then I turned my head and looked. Through the crowded hallway and dozens of other students’ big heads, I meet Emmet’s eyes.

How does he do that? How do I do that?

It takes him a little while to get to me. Guys stopped him to shoot the shit. Girls stopped him to flirt and toss their stupid hair. A
teacher
stopped to flirt and toss her hair. Gross. Guess that’s the problem with being good looking, athletic, and intelligent.

The tether slackened some now as I felt him approaching me in the crowded hallway at school. Even though I’m chatting with a couple of girls from my Italian class, I turn around and look in Emmet’s direction expectantly. Emmy and I strong armed him into driving us to and from school when the weather started to get cold last fall. I felt that he only said yes because I had tilted my head and batted my eyelashes and stuck out my bottom lip. His eyes had glazed over for only a second and only I noticed it, but he did give in right after.

He was moving through the thinning crowd of students to get to me and he was only a few feet away when Stella Cramer bounded into my perfect scene of Emmet smiling and eyes shining as he walked towards me. Stella was petite with big boobs, naturally blonde, with big blue eyes. On top of being irresistibly adorable, she was also extremely nice and smart. Stella Cramer was the All American Girl. I’d bet cash that it was probably printed on her college applications.

Emmet seemed a little surprised to look down and see Stella in his path, but he stopped to talk to her. She smiled as she talked to him. She must have been talking very low because he bent over slightly so he could hear her better. He grinned and said something back to her and the whole thing just seemed rather intimate.

My friend Amy snickered beside me.

“What?” I asked absently as I watched Emmet with Stella.

“Nothing,” she said, though I could tell it was something.

“What?” I pressed, looking at her now. She was looking at Emmet and Stella, too.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

“Tell anyone what?”

“They’ll know I told and my brother will kill me.”

Amy’s brother Aaron was a senior and pretty good friends with Emmet. He was a nice guy, but I could totally see him putting Amy in a headlock and torturing her for opening her mouth.

“Know what?” I asked, willing to risk Amy’s head.

She moved closer to me and began to whisper. “Aaron had a few of his friends over last night while my parents were out. I caught Emmet and Stella screwing in the basement.”

“You did not,” I said doubtfully. I didn’t feel so doubtful though. Why would she make it up? Was she just kidding?

“I did, too,” she said, looking at me seriously. “I went down there to do my laundry for school and they were standing in front of our old couch trying to put their clothes back on in a hurry.”

I gave her another doubtful look, but she just shrugged. “Look at them. They look like they’re sharing a big secret.”

I did look at them, and they did look like they were sharing a big secret, with secret smiles and whispering. Emmet looked up from adorable Stella with a stupid smile on his face, but it faded away as he took in the expression I guessed was on my face. His eyes flickered over to Amy and she inhaled sharply.

“Stop looking at them!” she hissed. “He probably knows I told you!”

I stopped looking. I turned back around to concentrate on packing up my homework.

“If he asks you if I told you, don’t rat me out,” Amy whispered harshly and then she hurried away because Emmet was standing at my back now. I could feel him there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my body tingled. Yeah, Emmet was there.

“Hey,” he said to the back of my head.

“Hey,” I threw over my shoulder. “I don’t need a ride today. I have some things to do in the art room.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “How will you get home?”

“The same way I used to get home before you started driving me,” I answered, forcing a smile. “I’ll walk.”

“It’s pouring and cold,” he objected.

“I have a coat and an umbrella,” I said, turning around. I showed him the umbrella. “See? I’ll be fine.”

He studied me carefully. “What were you and Amy talking about?”

I closed my locker and looked at the wall over his shoulder. “Nothing really.”

“Nothing really?” he parroted.

I nodded.

“If it was nothing then why won’t you look at me?” he asked in quiet frustration.

Slowly, my eyes moved to his and I saw the truth of what Amy had said there. I exhaled and then swung my bag over my shoulder.

“I’ll see you later,” I said and started to move away.

“Wait, Donya.” Emmet went to take my arm, but remembered we were surrounded by people and stopped short.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” I forced another smile. “I’ll see you later.”

I moved away from him and speed walked my way to the art room.

*~*~*

I had the art room all to myself. It was a Friday afternoon and there weren’t many kids that would want to hang out after school if they weren’t forced to, even for art.

I immersed myself into my art project. It was almost Valentine’s Day and we had to do a Valentines theme. It could be anything we wanted, as long as the focus was on love, as if any fifteen year old kid really understood anything about love.

The room was completely quiet. Every now and then I would hear a few teachers as they passed by the room or maintenance as they cleaned up the school just so we could mess it up the next week.

I was lost in my project. I watched the paint appear on the canvas with the same serenity I felt when I skateboarded. The sound of the brush as it connected with the surface was soothing. I took pleasure in the careful lines and smooth curves that had to be created with careful precision. The smell of paint settled my mind, feeling the liquid between my fingers settled my nerves.

Hours passed. Occasionally, a rare teacher would check in on me but say nothing. Mr. Boggs, the maintenance manager, told me earlier before I got started that I could stay until nine and then he’d have to kick me out. I used every minute, every second, putting my heart into my project. Before today I was going to do a simple, cheesy project. It was going to be your typical hearts and flowers and candy type of picture, only a few steps above what a kindergartener may create, but after I saw the truth about Emmet and Stella in Emmet’s eyes, my creative process changed. It exploded into my fingertips and I had no control over it.

I took a step back and exhaled slowly as I looked at my work. I guess I really did know something about love.

The invisible tether slackened. My back was to the door, but I knew he was there watching me just as surely as I knew my own name. I glanced up at the clock over the teacher’s desk. I had roughly twenty minutes to clean up and get out, but I couldn’t stop staring at my project. I never considered myself to be talented, but even I could not deny how incredible it looked.

I heard his footsteps as he approached me. He stood behind me, looking over my shoulder at my project. I heard him exhale miserably. I didn’t mean to make him miserable, but I took a little solace in knowing that he may have been a bit miserable. Misery does love company.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked as he moved in closer to me.

“Nothing to forgive,” I said, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. “Why are you here?”

“It’s late. I didn’t want you walking home.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“You’ll be fine now because I’m going to drive you home,” he said.

His arm circled my waist. I should have pulled away, but my body had different ideas. It melted back into Emmet and my head tilted back against his chest.

Really, body? Really?

“Where did you get your inspiration for this painting?” Emmet asked in my ear.

I didn’t answer him, because I knew that he knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew.

The woman in the painting was bleeding from the gaping, ragged hole in her chest. In her hand was a bleeding heart. Dark blood covered her fingers and dripped down into the green grass below, staining it red. It was an offering to the man before her who had his hand extended as if to receive the heart. Their fingers touched and some of the blood dripped onto his extended fingers. The man offered in his other hand dying roses and a box of chocolates with tiny spiders crawling out of the box.

Maybe my teacher didn’t intend for us to create anything as macabre as this, but to me that was the reality of Valentine’s Day. The girls I knew had big floaty ideas about February 14
^th
. They get some stale chocolates and roses that die within hours and think that it’s true love. It’s not. It’s an opportunity for the guy to make out with the girl or to get into her panties.

The painting wasn’t just about the fake holiday either. Even though I knew better, I was having silly ideas about love and relationships. I told Emmet I wasn’t ready, and I probably still wasn’t, but I secretly wished that he would try again. I secretly wished that he would wait for me. I fantasized about the day I would tell him I was ready and how he would kiss me and tell me he waited for me because he knew I was special. He had really said so himself once, and I believed it. I fantasized that I would go away and he would find me because he could always find me, and he would kiss me and bring me back. I dreamed up our lives through his college years and I dreamed that when I finished high school he would propose and we would get married before I finished college. I thought about our quaint wedding in Louisiana and the children that would follow.

I had secretly hoped that he would come to me on that stupid fake day with candy and flowers and a kiss.

My fantasies were shut down with a bang when I realized he had
banged
Stella. Me and my stupid childhood fantasies.

I stepped away from Emmet and started to clean up my mess. After another moment of staring at the painting Emmet started to help. We cleaned up quickly and left the dark painting where it needed to be, in the dark.

After we got into the car, Emmet started the engine but he didn’t drive. He sat there staring at the cold rain pouring on the glass. We were the only car left in the dimly lit parking lot. We were completely alone, and I hated it. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get away from him so that I would stop having the constant reminder about my stupid fantasies.

“I’m sorry, Donya,” he said quietly and looked at me.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” I said quickly. I reached over and turned on the radio. “I’m starving. Are you going to drive or are we going to sit here?”

Emmet growled with annoyance and turned the radio off. “Stop avoiding this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, so whatever it is you think you need to apologize for obviously isn’t a big deal.”

“Are you going to make me say it?” he asked as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Say what? Do you have anything to eat in here?” I asked, popping open the glove compartment.

“Don’t open that!” Emmet shouted as he reached to close it but he was too late. The compartment door flung open and a condom dropped onto my lap.

“That’s not food,” I said quietly as I picked up the foil packet. I put it back in the glove box and closed it. The clicking sound it made seemed to vibrate throughout the car.

The silence was crushing. Emmet stared straight ahead again, but his hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter than before.

I knew he wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t want to know that he was actively screwing girls. What if that’s all he really wanted from me? What if that was his game all along? What if he was just priming me so he could fuck me?