Curse of Genius by Taylor White
* * *
All I can do is reflect on the night as we head back to my house. I lean my head back on the seat and gaze out the window. I can't stop smiling.
Not only did Bryson make me laugh, cook for me, pamper me, and treat me like a queen in every way possible?he respected me. Now I know for sure that getting me into bed is not what he's trying to do here, or he definitely would have tried tonight. Not that I ever really thought it was what he was trying to do, but it's nice to see it confirmed. Even though I have no other experiences to compare to, I'm pretty sure that as far as boyfriends go, Bryson's about as good as it gets. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
I stick my arm out the window and open my palm to the cool night air, which is blowing my hair all around my face. Then I feel Bryson squeeze my hand on the center console. I look over at him, my smile growing even wider as he looks at me, and I start to wish this night would just go on forever. I seriously don't think there's anything in the world that can bring me down at the moment.
As soon as we turn onto my street, however, I discover I was dead wrong. Within a split second, my smile is gone.
"Is that Brian's truck?" Bryson leans forward and squints.
My stomach immediately turns. "Looks like it," I mutter, my gaze fixed on the truck.
My pulse is now racing as we pull up to the end of my driveway and stop, only fifty feet or so behind Brian's truck. I can't see through his back glass because of the dark tint, but as soon as Bryson shifts into park, I see the passenger door fling open?then Becca hops out.
My heart drops. I unbuckle my seatbelt and jump out the Jeep with a sense of urgency, keeping my eyes glued to her as she walks around the front of Brian's truck.
"Dori!" I hear Bryson yell as I slam the door shut, but I pay no attention. The only thing on my mind is getting to Becca before she gets to her house.
I notice Brian step from his truck as Becca picks up the pace, her eyes unwavering from the ground in front of her. I pick up the pace, as well, and now, with butterflies absolutely assaulting my stomach, I'm practically jogging in order to close the gap between us.
"Becca!" I shout angrily. Although I'm filled to the brim with every emotion imaginable right now, rage is definitely front and center.
But she never flinches or breaks stride at all. So I break out into a run to catch up to her.
"Becca!" I yell again, grabbing her arm and spinning her around.
"What?!" she screams, finally looking at me. As soon as I see how swollen her eyes are and the tears streaming down her sunken cheeks, I start to cry. It's scary how much weight she's lost in the two days I haven't seen her.
"I wanna ta--"
She turns around abruptly, cutting me off, but I grab her arm again before she can go anywhere.
"Hey! Why won't you talk to me?" I ask, tears pouring from my eyes. She forcefully pulls her arm out of my hand, and that's when I hear a deep voice over my shoulder.
"Because you completely ditched her for Summer and her damn friends, that's why," Brian says with disdain, firmly nudging my arm away from Becca. I look up at him, wiping my cheeks and sniffling, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little startled. He's glaring at me, his eyebrows pulled down as if he now hates me as much as Becca does.
I look back at Becca, but before I can examine her reaction, I hear Bryson's now-angry voice behind me.
"You touch my girlfriend again it might be the last fucking thing you do." His voice stresses the end of his sentence as he pushes Brian with insane force, causing him to stumble back and then fall to the ground. Before Becca and I can utter a single word, Brian is back on his feet, and they start swinging.
"Stop! Stop! Y'all stop it!" we yell frantically, inching toward them with our hands outstretched.
Brian quickly hits the ground again, and Bryson rears his leg back to kick him.
"Stop, Bryson! Stop!"
As we're yelling, the front door suddenly opens and Mr. Brett comes running out. "That's enough, guys! That's enough! Cut it out!" he demands, stepping in front of Bryson, trying to wrestle him back.
As soon as Bryson backs away, Becca takes the opportunity to dart toward the house.
"Becca, come talk to me! What is wrong with you?" I scream at the top of my lungs. But she just blows by Mrs. Anna in the doorway, never looking back.
I drop my head where I stand and begin sobbing hysterically. Mainly because of Becca, but also because of the fight that just took place. The whole situation has me completely overwhelmed.
I look over at Bryson, my vision blurred and watery as Mr. Brett tries to calm him down. Knowing he's okay, I turn and head for the Jeep where I can be alone. I shut the door, pull my feet up on the seat, drop my forehead on my knees, and continue crying. When Bryson finally climbs in, I lean over and latch onto him, repeatedly thanking him and apologizing to him.
This perfect night has been destroyed. If I could do it all over again, I would never have confronted Becca. Nothing good ever seems to come of it.
32
Aftermath
I wake up the next morning, terrified and in tears. And I immediately call Bryson.
I had vivid dreams about the entire incident last night. Bryson and Brian fighting; the tears running down Becca's gaunt face; Becca running into the house; Mrs. Anna standing in the doorway in complete shock; Mr. Brett struggling with Bryson?pretty much the whole ugly episode. It definitely wasn't fun reliving the experience. But that's not the main reason I'm terrified.
I also dreamed Bryson broke up with me, which is not a good thing.
Luckily, though, when I talk to him, he's the same ol' Bryson, apologizing to me and trying his best to comfort me. I don't end up mentioning that part of the dream to him, simply because he won't understand my concern. I've never told him about this before. All I can do is desperately hope that this particular dream doesn't materialize, because I'm not sure I could handle that right now. But unfortunately, I can't help being afraid. Just what I need, another reason to cry.
Since Bryson and I would have virtually no privacy over here--especially after what went down last night--and since he's still at home by himself, we decide to each stay home today. And my plans are pretty simple: stay in bed and cry.
Around noon, my parents stick their heads in my room and ask me if I want to come downstairs and eat lunch. When I tell them no, they walk over to my bed and attempt to talk to me about everything. Although I do talk to them briefly, because I know they're curious and concerned, they can tell I'm not up for conversation, and they don't stay long.
Then Hailey comes in about an hour later, trying to get me out of bed, also. But it's not until Carson comes in and tells me Brian broke up with Becca last night that I finally get up.
I sit on the edge of my bed, tears now spilling from my eyes, and text Mrs. Anna. "I'm coming over."
I toss my phone on the bed and start getting dressed, crying out loud the entire time. I can't help imagining I'm in Becca's position. I pretend everyone at school hates me while they all love Becca, and now Bryson just broke up with me. And other than my parents, I now have absolutely no one to turn to, not even siblings. I cringe at the thought, and I cringe even harder when I realize that's the reality of Becca's situation.
I'm pretty sure she's not going to talk to me, but I'm going to her house anyway, if nothing else to apologize to Mr. Brett and Mrs. Anna for what happened last night.
I grab my phone, go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and put my hair in a ponytail, and then I head outside. I immediately start wiping my eyes and trying to compose myself as I walk down the sidewalk in the bright, warm sun. Just as I approach the door, it opens before I can knock.
"Hey, honey," Mrs. Anna says, her expression bland.
I wipe my eyes. "Hey."
After we hug, she ushers me inside with her hand on my back. I have to say, I'm a little surprised there's no resistance on Becca's behalf like before.
When I walk in, Mrs. Anna gently c
I nod as I turn my head and see Mr. Brett walking up to me from the living room. "Hey, Dori," he says, his voice also low as he hugs me.
I wrap my arms around him. "Hey." Then the three of us head to the kitchen table.
"I'm really sorry about last night." My bloodshot eyes shoot between the two of them. I keep my voice low, but for a very different reason. They're keeping quiet because they don't want to wake Becca; I'm keeping quiet because Becca's awake. When she doesn't want to talk to her parents for some reason, she pretends to be asleep. She's done this all her life, and this is no exception. It's almost two in the afternoon. I simply don't want her to hear the conversation.
"Well, honey, it's not your fault," Mrs. Anna tells me.
"Yeah. It's no one's fault, it's just a bad situation." Mr. Brett looks from Mrs. Anna to me, then he frowns. "But what in the world was the deal with Bryson and Brian?"
My chin quivers as I look down at my lap and start fiddling with the hem of my khaki shorts. Then I look back up, wiping my eyes with my open palms.
"I should have left Becca alone." I sniff deeply and then look down again. "Brian got upset with me for grabbing Becca, and then Bryson got upset with Brian. And it just escalated from there."
They both nod, not really knowing what to say. So I ask about Becca.
"How is Becca really doing? She won't talk to me," I say, carefully searching their faces. As soon as the words are out, Mrs. Anna drops her head and covers her face with her hand. I grimace in response and look away, my eyes filling with tears again.
Mr. Brett gently rubs her back to comfort her, then he looks back at me.
"We just don't know what to do." He shakes his head. "We can't get her to come out of her room. She won't eat or anything."
I glance at Mrs. Anna as she calms herself down and pulls her head back up. I start to wonder how much they actually know. I can't imagine Becca spilling all kinds of details to them about the situation with Summer, and how people are treating her at school and all that.
Just as I'm thinking that, however, Mrs. Anna drags her fingertips under her eyes, wiping the moisture away, and says, "She's so hung up on this girl, Summer" - she pauses to wipe her eyes again- "but I told her she cannot come down on you for being nice to her."
"Absolutely," Mr. Brett agrees.
So clearly, they know enough, and it doesn't look like they're holding anything against me. In fact, they seem to agree with my parents on the matter. The thing is, I'm starting to agree with Becca. I'm not sure if it's so much that I truly agree with her, or if I just don't care anymore and want my best friend back. Either way, my opinion is changing, and I need to figure out my next step.
"We just don't understand why she's fallen so fast like this," Mr. Brett says, looking up at me.
"People aren't being very nice to her at school, either," I mutter. "And now the whole thing with Brian?" I drop my face in my hands, trying even harder not to cry.
They both reach out and rub my arms to comfort me.
I ball my fists at the top of my forehead as a tear drops from my cheek onto the table. "I just don't know what to do," I say in between deep breaths.
But that's a lie. I know exactly what to do. I just don't know how to do it.
33
Decision
The week that followed was absolute torture. Here's the three basic reasons why.
First of all, Becca only showed up to school two days out of the five, Monday and Tuesday, and she left before lunch on Tuesday. Both days, people were glaring at her, talking about her under their breaths, and some people were even laughing at her. Although it was heartbreaking to watch, I kept my distance and I haven't talked to her or even texted her all week. I've come to realize that at this point, not talking to her at all is better than fighting with her, especially now that I've decided what I'm going to do.
Second, the dream I had about Bryson breaking up with me. Honestly, I wouldn't blame him one bit if he did break up with me. He's been putting up with a lot lately, including being involved in a fist fight last Saturday night. Not to mention, he can have any girl he wants. So I've been watching closely for signs that this might happen. I constantly examined his expression every time we were together, trying to notice if anything was off or if he was trying to distance himself from me in any way, but everything seemed to remain perfectly normal. That doesn't mean I'm not still afraid it's going to happen, though. And if it wasn't for the situation with Becca, I would be panicking way more about it.
And finally, Summer Stevens. It's kind of funny, my problem with Summer used to be that she was mean to me. Now my problem with Summer is that she's nice to me. I suppose it's a no-win situation for her. But soon, none of that will matter anyway. I've decided I'm going to make it clear to Summer that she and I are no longer friends because I feel like she's up to something--which isn't true--and to stay away from me. Believe me, I hate to do that, but I have no choice now. I need my best friend back. And if I have to rudely turn my back on Summer and everyone in this entire school to make that happen, then so be it. The problem is, Summer's not making this easy for me at all. She's been more caring and kindhearted than ever toward me lately.
Wednesday during the 'Ask Dori' segment in first period, I fell into a complete daze as I stared at Becca's empty desk.
"Dori," I'd suddenly heard Mrs. Anderson say.
I looked over at her. "Ma'am?" Then I turned my head back to see the entire class staring at me, some eyes concerned, some curious.
"I was just asking about the Bermuda Triangle," Daniel said carefully. "Do planes and ships really just disappear? Because my uncle thinks aliens are under the water in that area."
The class chuckled collectively, including Daniel.
"Umm?" I looked down and swallowed hard, trying to hold it together and gather my thoughts. Somehow I managed to, but only briefly.
"A lot of people do believe that," I replied, looking back up. "But the truth is that area of the Atlantic is vulnerable to unpredictable storms. And it's up to 30,000 feet deep with a really turbulent Gulf Stream, so any evidence of a disaster or crash can quickly be washed away."
The next thing I knew, the class was rambling on and talking amongst themselves, and my eyes were once again glued to Becca's desk. Then suddenly, as if it was freakishly out of my control, I was on my feet walking toward the door, trying not to cry.
I took off down the hall straight for the restroom, completely indifferent to the possible consequences of bolting out of the classroom without permission or a hall pass. I forcefully burst through the bathroom door, my shoulders now shaking and tears running down my cheeks, and grabbed a handful of the rough brown paper towels to wipe my face.
I was leaning on the sink, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to figure out how I'd made such a colossal mess of my life. I was also wishing I could rip my genius out of my brain through my ear and just start this whole existence thing all over again from scratch, when I saw the door open and Summer walk in with the hall pass in her hand.
I stood up straight and wiped my eyes, watching her through the mirror as she walked up and put her hand on my back. "Are you okay?" she asked. I could see the concern on her face.
I nodded as I turned and faced her, still wiping my eyes. Then she reached behind her for the paper towels and handed me a few more.
"Thanks," I say, unfolding one and pressing it to my nose.
She stood there leaning her hip against the sink with one foot draped over the other, her arms crossed under her chest and her eyes filled with worry as she watched me.
"Becca's not doing good, is she?" she finally said.
I took a deep breath and shook my head. Summer's concern for Becca amazes me to no end, even if it is only for my benefit. Becca's done everything short of straight-up kicking her ass for crying out loud. Regardless of that, though, there Summer stood, distraught and fee
So you see what I mean when I say Summer's not making this easy for me. Even though I've completely gone numb and haven't cried since that whole bathroom scene--I guess I'm all out of tears at this point--she's still remained just as tender and kind, constantly checking on me and asking me if I'm okay.
Friday at lunch, a strange feeling of calm and relief washes over me. I sit here, hunched over my salad, popping croutons in my mouth one at a time and grinning as I listen to Summer, Alison, and Alex talk about the party Saturday night. They, along with Brad and Trent, have been sitting with me, Bryson, and Holly since Tuesday.
But my sudden warm feeling wasn't brought on by Summer's kindness, or by the fact that Bryson hasn't broken up with me yet. It was brought on by one thing: my abrupt realization that this will all be over soon.
I'm waiting until after Summer's party tomorrow night to separate myself from her, because once again, I know Bryson and Holly would like to go. And the idea that in just a few days I'll likely have Becca back makes me feel great. Things will finally be back to normal. Back the way they should be?me and Becca against the world. There's no other way I want to live my life. Ever.
I take a sip from my water bottle as Alex tells us about how she, Summer, and Alison are going to be 'crayons' at the party. I don't know what that means, but I'm sure there's some kind of sexy twist involved.
Before I can ask questions, Brad yells, "I'm going as Edward from Twilight!" He announces it quickly, as if he's calling dibs.
In response, Bryson swiftly shakes his head, his eyes wide and mockingly serious as he chews his brownie, pointing to himself as if he's already going as Edward. We all laugh.
Brad just shrugs and shakes his head. "Sorry, bro, you should have called it. Now, what I'm thinking is?" He trails off as he takes a sip of his Coke and then plops his elbows on the table. Then he goes on to explain to us the t-shirt and dark pants he's going to wear--resembling Edward's in the first movie--and his plans for spiking up his hair all crazy and wearing gold contact lenses. I definitely can't wait to see this.
"Dude, you're gonna look like an asswipe," Trent says, stirring his food.
Bryson rubs his hands together over his tray, knocking the brownie crumbs off his fingers as he glances up at Brad's hair. "I don't know, Trent. I think he could be pretty like Edward," he says, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of Brad's bangs and pulling them straight up.
"Yeah, maybe so," Trent agrees, now pulling on Brad's hair, too.
"Yeah?We can just throw a bucket of baby powder on your face, and empty a bottle of hairspray up here?"
"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Brad shouts, swatting their hands away.
The girls and I laugh hysterically as we watch the three of them bicker. For the first time all week I'm feeling relaxed, and it feels great. But unfortunately, it doesn't last long.
In fact, by the end of the day I'm back in panic mode. I'm trying to figure out exactly how I'm going to deal with Summer, and I'm also starting to worry that getting Becca back may not go as quickly and as smoothly as I'm hoping. Still in all, getting rid of Summer is the first step, and the time is nearing.
As I'm leaning against Holly's car in the parking lot after school, waiting for Bryson and the team to come out of the gym, I start feeling nauseated. I'm really wishing there wasn't a basketball game tonight.
I drag my gaze away from the Hotard bus and glance at Summer in front of the cafeteria doors. I watch as she laughs and jokes around with a handful of lower-classmen cheerleaders. Then my mind drifts again.
I think back to how she used to treat me, just a few short weeks ago. I think about the spine-chilling looks she would give me from across the gym, classroom, or cafeteria which made me shudder with fear. I think about the time she blocked off my path in the caf, and then threatened to tell everyone my 'secret,' which simply turned out to be that I liked Bryson. I think about the time she tried to block my path in the hallway as I walked by her locker; the threatening and judgmental glares when I signed up for the squad; the indirect tongue lashings at practices, and so on. And without fail, Becca was right there protecting me through it all.
I gasp under my breath when my focus returns to the moment, and I realize how drastically things have changed. It's been a while since I've thought about the details of the past and let me tell you, when suddenly compared to the present, it's one hell of a body blow.
Even worse than that, nothing was accomplished. The whole point of my little trip down memory lane was to build up anger toward Summer, but all it did was make me feel horribly guilty. On top of that, as I stand here watching Summer chatting and laughing with these freshman cheerleaders, I realize that even if I would've achieved the anger I was seeking, it would have been short-lived. That's not who Summer is anymore, and I can't hold the past against her.
So basically, there's no easy way out of this mess. It's going to suck no matter what. The only slight comfort that exists is knowing I have no choice.
Holly finally pulls her head out of her car and stands up straight, looking at her phone. Then she glances at me.
"So, you really haven't told me about you and Bryson's date last weekend?I mean, other than the fight." Her tone ranges from enthusiastic to gloomy as she tosses her phone back in the car and closes the door.
I turn to her and smile. "It was amazing."
"Really? What did he cook?"
"Steak and baked potatoes."
"You're kidding." Her eyes widen. "Was it good?"
"So good. He also had white-icing cake and cookie cake for dessert."
Holly's eyebrows shoot up as I continue on, telling her all about the fake cheese appetizer, the real cheese appetizer, the adorable pink apron, the banner, the movie, the music?pretty much everything. Now we're both laughing our butts off.
"He is so funny," Holly says. Then she leans toward me. "Any sexy time?"
I smile, embarrassed, but I can see how desperate she is for information. So I spill it.
"Yeah, definitely," I say. "You remember my cut-off shorts I told you about a while back? The ones Hailey chopped up?"
Her eyes drift to the sky for a second in thought. "Yeah, I do?wait, did you wear those?" Her eyes are now bulging.
I nod. "I brought them with me and changed into them after we ate."
"Nice! Oh, my God, was he, like, all over you?"
"Pretty much," I giggle. "We started making out on the couch, and then his shirt was off," my giggle turns into a laugh, "and I honestly have no memory of how that happened."
"Yeaahhh, I bet," Holly teases.
I tell her about how Bryson's hand ended up at the base of my butt cheek, and then how my mom texted and totally ruined everything.
"Aww, geez," Holly rolls her eyes.
"Yeah?so?"
"How far do you think y'all would've gone?"
I grin, angling my eyes to the ground. "Let's just say it's probably a good thing my mom texted."
"Gotcha."
Just as I'm about to start telling her all about how amazing Bryson looks without a shirt, we suddenly hear Alison yell something to Summer as she's getting on the bus. When I glance over at them, my smile evaporates. Then an awkward silence takes over for the next few seconds.
"I've tried texting Becca this week, but she hasn't responded," Holly finally says.
"Have you talked to Brian?" I ask.
"I talked to him Tuesday. He told me he broke up with her, and he told me about the fight."
I stare at the ground. This is normally when I would cry, but I haven't been crying lately for some reason, and I'm totally fine with that.
"I'm gonna fix everything," I say, glancing back at the bus. Bryson is the only person I've revealed my plan to so far, but I'm sure Holly kno
And just as I'm thinking that, she says, "You're gonna push Summer away?"
I look back at her and nod exhaustedly. Not that it would sway my decision either way, but it's nice to see her expression of understanding and approval.
"Have you told your mom?" she asks, looking over my shoulder.
I turn around and watch as my mom pulls in the parking lot. "Not yet," I reply, now wondering what my parents will think, and if it's even worth telling them at all.
34
Execution
"Are you sure you wanna do that?" my mom asks, leaning back on the counter and squinting at me.
I sigh heavily, looking down at my cheese and cracker snack. Today has been rough, and I'm no longer in the mood for my parents.
I went to bed in tears last night as soon as I got home from the game--unfortunately, I'm crying again--and that's exactly how I woke up this morning. I had this sick, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it's done nothing but intensify with every passing hour. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is go to this party tonight. I've considered several times throughout the day calling Bryson and Holly and telling them I'm out, and just letting them do whatever they want. Then I would head over to Becca's house and force my way into her room, then get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness if necessary, apologizing and assuring her Summer is history. I feel a strange sense of urgency now that I didn't feel yesterday, or all last week for that matter, and for some reason, I don't want to wait another day at this point. But despite these feelings, I've ultimately decided to go to the party as originally planned.
Then there's my parents, who have officially decided to crawl under my skin as of about ten minutes ago. I think I might start breaking crap if they don't crawl back out. I actually didn't plan on telling them what I've decided to do, but when I walked in the kitchen a few minutes ago, my mom flat-out asked. Now I'm wishing I had lied. I've had about all I can take of the disapproving and judgmental facial expressions, head shakes, and mumbling back and forth between the two of them. On any other day, I would be a little more tolerant, but not today.
My dad walks over to the bar and pours himself a glass of milk. "I don't like the idea, Dori," he chides, his eyes remaining on the glass as he pours.
"Then tell me what to do," I snap. "If y'all are gonna shoot down my solution, then you have to replace it with another one?because guess what, Becca's not getting any better over there." My eyes furiously zip between the two of them. I watch as they glance at each other and then lower their heads.
"Any ideas?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't think so."
I hop off the stool and head for the living room, leaving my crackers and Gatorade untouched on the bar.
I tap Hailey on the shoulder as I pass behind the couch. "I'm about to shower. Meet me in my room in a few minutes to pick an outfit."
"Sure!" she shouts.
I take off upstairs and as soon as I pass by Carson's room, I hear him yell. "Hey!"
I walk back and stick my head in the door. "Yeah?"
He tosses his TV remote on the bed and then gets up and walks toward me.
"Look, I just wanted to let you know that I texted Brian last Sunday after everything happened, and I told him I'd kick his ass next if he ever hollered at you again. And then he texted last night and said to tell you he's really sorry?so?I just wanted to tell you."
I mash my lips together hard, trying to keep my chin from quivering as I think back to the fight. I actually feel really bad for Brian. I know he's a good guy; he just got caught up in a bad situation. Tensions ran high that night, and he was simply protecting Becca.
I almost tell Carson to text him back and tell him I'm sorry, too, but instead I just walk over and throw my arms around him, grateful to have a big brother who stands up for me.
"Thanks," I say, squeezing tightly around his neck. And after talking to him for a few minutes about the party I don't want to attend tonight, I go to my room, grab my blue Soffee shorts and a white tee, and then go shower.
By the time I get back in my room, Hailey's already burrowed deep in my closet, pulling some items.
"Need some help?" I chuckle, walking toward her.
"Nope, I think I've got everything we need." She tosses one of my dresses over her forearm, which is now completely covered with clothes. I grab some from her and we take them to my bed and lay them all out.
"Why aren't you dressing up for Halloween?" she asks.
I shrug as I walk around the bed to my jewelry box. "I'm just not up for it tonight, girlie."
I really wish I was up for it, but I don't even want to go to the party, much less dress up. I simply can't force myself to get that into it, not under the circumstances. Even though Bryson has insisted all week that we not even go tonight--because he knows I really don't want to, even though I've done nothing but act excited about it--I've insisted even harder that we do go, for a specific reason.
Do I truly want to go to the party tonight? No. Do I want to go to the party because I know that despite putting my feelings first, Bryson would really like to go? Absolutely. The last thing I need to do is give Bryson another reason to want to dump me. And even though I feel like it's going to happen anyway because of the dream, there's no reason for me to speed it up.
So I definitely feel as though I need to go to the party. But dressing up? That's where I draw the line. Can't do it. I've encouraged Bryson to still dress up, but he refuses to. I don't think Holly's dressing up, either. I hate that, but there's nothing I can do.
I see the disappointment on Hailey's face as she looks back down and starts scanning the outfits on my bed. She's still unaware of exactly what's going on with Becca, and I'd rather keep it that way, especially now that I'm going to try to fix it.
I take a pair of hoop earrings out of my jewelry box and set them on top, then walk over to my bed and prop up my knee.
"You ready for trick-or-treating tomorrow night?" I ask, trying to cheer her up.
"Yep!" Her head flies up and her mouth stretches into a broad, bright smile. "Can't wait. You're coming, aren't you?"
"I wouldn't miss it," I smile. Then I walk around and plop down on the bed next to the clothes. "So, what should we go with?"
She immediately pulls her eyebrows down and sighs, carefully studying each outfit. After a few seconds, she cautiously points to the blue tank dress on the end and peeks over at me.
Not that I don't like the dress--it's my favorite one, actually--but I'm not in the mood for it tonight for some reason. So I scrunch up my nose and say, "I'm thinking a little more casual for tonight."
She pulls her little finger back and nods maturely, not saying a word, as if she's on the same page. Then after another few seconds of inspecting, this time tapping her index finger against her lips, she points to the loose, flowy black shirt and the dark green skinny jeans, and then peeks back over at me. Since that's the outfit I was thinking, I smile and say, "I think that'll work."
"'K." She grins and looks back at her selection, totally proud of herself.
After putting everything back in my closet, I start changing. When I hear my phone suddenly buzz, I button my pants and grab it off the dresser.
"Well, I know you're gonna just hate to hear this, " I tease, looking at Hailey. "But Bryson will be here soon."
Before I can blink, she's out the door. "I'll go wait for him!" she yells.
"Thanks for helping me pick an outfit!" I yell back, but she's long gone.
As hard as I try to share her enthusiasm for heading down to the living room, I can't seem to make it happen. I don't care to be around my parents right now, or anyone for that matter other than Bryson or Becca. So after I finish getting ready, I walk over to the window at the end of the hall and wait for Bryson to show up. When he finally does, I wait for him to walk up and ring the doorbell before I start down the stairs.
"Hey," I smile, standing on my tiptoes and pecking him on the lips
"Hey, there."
Then of course, Hailey does her thing.
"Bryson!" She runs over from the couch and bear-hugs him around the waist.
"What's up, girlfriend," he jokes, grabbing under her arms and tossing her in the air. Then my parents walk in carrying giant popcorn bowls, and as soon as they see Bryson they smile and say hey.
"Hey." He smiles back as he sets Hailey down. Then Hailey grabs his hand and pulls him toward the couch, and I reluctantly follow. This isn't the direction I want to be moving in, but at least I get to inspect Bryson from behind. I have to say, he's looking crazy sexy in his fitted blue polo shirt and dark jeans.
"Heard y'all kicked butt again last night," my dad says, shaking Bryson's hand and taking a seat on the couch.
"Twenty-two point win," Mom says.
"Yep, we're 9-0 now."
I stand here silently, watching as they continue talking about the game. I can't help but notice how off this conversation seems to be. This is the first time my parents and Bryson have really talked since the fight last weekend, and there's definitely an awkward lack of enthusiasm on both ends. But not on Hailey's end.
She hops on the couch, pulling on Bryson's hand. "Come on, we're about to watch a movie!"
"No, we have to go," I quickly tell her. Even though I'm in no hurry to get to the party, I'm sure as hell in no hurry to sit here with my parents. So it's party time. "We're gonna be late."
Then my mom suddenly gets up and walks over and hugs me. I hesitate, then hug her back.
"Y'all have fun," she says quietly in my ear. Then she kisses my cheek and eases back to the couch.
"Be careful," Dad smiles.
I nod, confused but indifferent. "We will."
"See y'all later," Bryson says. Then he focuses on Hailey, points two fingers at his own eyes and then points them to her, letting her know he's 'watching' her; she returns the gesture with a giggle. Then we head out.
"What was that all about?" Bryson asks as I close the door behind us.
I pull my purse strap up my shoulder and glance over at Becca's house. "We were arguing about Becca today," I say dryly. I continue staring at her house as I walk, once again fighting the urge to ditch this party and head over there.