Always and Forever (18 page)

A new resolve slid into place. I gathered up my books and headed toward the cafeteria for my last meal. Ever. I loaded a tray down with more food than I could possibly eat at three meals and skipped over to where Dave and Brad were making googly eyes at each other.

“It's borderline disgusting how cute you two are together,” I said as I plopped into a chair next to Brad.

“Well, hello there, sunshine,” Dave grinned. “You're looking pretty pleased with yourself.”

I just shrugged.

“Spill,” Brad ordered and poked me in the ribs to emphasize his demand.

“Nothing to spill,” I replied around a mouth full of chocolate cake. “Can't a girl just be glad that the day is half over?”

Both boys eyed me suspiciously, but neither pushed the issue.

Within moments, we were surrounded by Dave and Brad's jock friends and their girlfriends. The boys all joked around, made lewd comments while the girls chatted amongst themselves about clothes, shopping, and manicures. As always, they tried to include me in their conversations, but at the first hint that I wasn't in the mood for their company, they turned away from me, relief plainly written across their faces.

Lunch ended soon enough and I was back in the halls, weaving my way through the crowd and toward my next class. Everything around me was a blur of colors and textures, sight and sound. I wanted to soak it all up, remember every minute detail as I moved among them, this sea of the happy, the healthy, the living. There was just too much happening for me to catch more than a glimpse here, a snippet there. It was enough, though. It had to be.

I rounded the last corner that would take me to History and the dreaded Mr. Wilson, and smacked right into a warm, body—one that had my skin jumping to attention the moment we collided. And, when his arms came around my waist to steady me, I couldn't help but melt into him, wishing more than anything that I could hold fast to him and never let go. My heart jumped into a wild gallop as he stepped away from me, pounding out a plea that had become my mantra for that one blissful week we were together.

Just a few more days. Just a few more hours. Just a few more minutes
.

In that moment, I never wanted anything so badly as I did him, and it was the one thing I could never have again.

T
WENTY
-O
NE

OBTUSENESS.
That word just wouldn't let me go. I was trapped in its iron claws, vicious, punishing grip that took pleasure in my agony.

If Math had been torture, History was cruel and unusual punishment. Nothing, and I mean nothing, connected. I stared at the test in abject misery, unsure of how to answer a single question. Of course, they were all essay questions. Mr. Wilson couldn't be a good guy and hand out multiple choice exams like all the other teachers, now could he?

I sat in my seat and stewed for the better part of the exam. Angry with him, with me, with my own obtuseness. This was the first time in my entire high school career I had ever failed a test. The realization just made me seethe even more. How could this happen?

But then, I remembered—why did it matter if I failed this test or not? What was I getting myself all worked up for? There really was no reason. At all.

I set my pencil down, turned the test face-down on my desk and leaned back in my chair, a slow, satisfied smile playing at my lips.

Mr. Wilson looked up at me and then glanced around the room, taking in the fact that the rest of the class was still hard at work. Slowly, deliberately, as if he was giving me one last chance to turn my test back over and get to work, he stood up and made his way toward me.

I returned his stare evenly; my smug smirk never once wavered.

“Done already, Ms. Gordon?” he asked in a low whisper.

I nodded.

He swiped the paper off my desk and looked it over. Eyes widening and nostrils flaring, he flipped the page and then the next and then the next after that. His gaze flicked back to me. “Are you sure you don't want to look this over and make certain that you're comfortable with your answers?”

How nice of him to give me an out. Any other day, I might have taken him up on that offer.

I shook my head.

He inhaled a sharp breath, and his eyes morphed into angry little slits. “Very well then,” he gritted out before he turned on his heel and marched back to his desk.

I shifted in my seat, crossed my arms over my chest, and stretched my legs out in front of me. Across the room, Kal lifted his head, apparently done with his test, and shot a quick glance in my direction. Unthinking, I lobbed a brilliant smile his way.

His eyes rounded in surprise, even as his cheeks warmed to an inviting shade of pink beneath his tawny complexion. A small, embarrassed smile found a place on his lips, and he lowered his gaze, his dark hair sweeping forward, falling into his eyes.

I wanted more than anything to slide my fingers through those curls and push them back off his face. Really, I wanted so much more than that. I could still feel his mouth slanted over mine while his hot breath fanned scorching flames across my skin. My eyes slid closed, and his phantom kisses grew in intensity, throwing my senses into a brutal riot, chaos exploding throughout my entire body.

The bell rang—snapping me out of my daydreams—and everybody groaned. Paper whispered against paper as they all shuffled out of their seats and handed in their tests as they exited the room. I swiped my bag up off the floor and hoisted it up onto my shoulder.

Kal looked like he wanted to come to my side, to sweep me up in his arms and carry me away, but a shadow crossed his features, and he left the room without another glance in my direction. Really, it was all for the best. I mean, if he had made even one tiny step in my direction, all of my carefully constructed defenses would have crumbled. And then I would've been back where I'd started.

I trudged toward the front of the room, slunk around the crowd of kids who turned their tests into Mr. Wilson.

“Mia,” he called out just as I was about to escape through the door. “I'd like a word with you, please.”

Damn. So close.

Caught, I had no other choice than to slide into a desk and wait quietly as everyone exited the room. More than one curious look came my way as they all filed out.

He closed the door firmly behind the last student and leaned against it, then regarded me silently. “Care to explain this?” He waved a rolled up paper in the air.

“It's my test,” I mumbled in response.

“It's blank.”

“Has my name on it,” I shot back, irritated. “Look, Mr. Wilson. I didn't study like I should have. I didn't have the answers. Can I go now?”

“No, Mia,” he murmured and shook his head sadly. “I think it's more than that. You've been a solid B+ student in my class all year. Last year, too. Now, you're not turning in homework, and if you do, it's poorly done. Your tests—” He waved the rolled up paper again to emphasize his point. “—are laughable. This is more than just not studying enough.” He paused, bit his lip as though his next words were hurting him immeasurably. “You know you could talk to me, not as a teacher but as a friend. I mean, if things weren't alright at home.”

A bitter laugh gurgled out. “So, now you're a guidance counselor? What do you want to hear, Mr. Wilson? Or, should I call you
Dr.
Wilson?”

“Mia—”

“Well, Dr. Wilson,” I barreled forward, a mean edge to my tone. “You see, there's really not all that much to talk about. I mean, my parents are great, if not a little too over-protective, but I guess that's not all that surprising. Considering. My brother is your typical twelve year old boy. He does nothing but play those bloody, violent video games. Call of War. Man of Duty. Some crap like that. Not really my style, Mr. Wilson. Oh, sorry. Dr. Wilson.”

“Mia,” he began again, his voice gentle, but there was an underlying warning to his tone.

“What?” I reclined back in the desk and shot him an innocent look. “I thought you wanted to hear all about Mia's world? No? Well, if that's all, I really need to get going. Don't want to be late to my next class.”

The warning bell rang at that moment. Perfect timing. I pushed up to my feet and hoisted my bag onto my shoulder.

“We're not done yet,” he fairly growled. Behind him, I could see kids peering in, curious as to why they couldn't get into the classroom.

“We're not? Well, I've got nothing more to say.”

“I see right through you,” he said quietly. Those five little words stopped me cold. “I've been watching you these last couple of weeks. How you've been shutting everyone and everything out. How you've been closeting yourself in your own little world, slowly withdrawing from life. I'm worried that you…” He stopped, shook his head, mentally backtracking to fix that last sentence. “There are always options, Mia. No matter how bad you think things might be right now, it'll get better. I promise.”

“Oh, really?” I barked out a cold, hollow-sounding laugh. “It'll get better? You really think so? Well, in that case…” I crossed my arms over my chest to protect myself from his words. Words that ripped me open, blew salt into my raw and jagged wounds. If he really knew what was going on, I doubted he'd still spout this corny dribble. “Thanks for telling me that, Mr. Wilson,” I sneered. “I feel so much better now.”

“Mia,” he started again. “I just want you to know that my door is always open. If you ever need to talk. If you need help figuring out your future.”

My future.
That would've been funny if it wasn't so tragic. There was no future. Not for me anyway.

He stepped away from the door, turned to open it to the flood of students anxiously awaiting entrance.

“That's funny. It really is,” I spit out as the door opened and kids poured in. “But you don't need to worry about me, Mr. Wilson. Save your concern for someone who can appreciate it.”

He just stared at me, his mouth dropped open. Really, the entire class had gone still as a stone at my loud, bitter words. “Mia,” he said again and took a small, cautious step toward me. But I couldn't stop myself. I was going to be heard this one last time.

“No, it's alright,” I beamed at him, a glowing, happy countenance that he hadn't seen from me in quite some time. “I guess I should have told you sooner, but you see,
Dr. Wilson
, you don't need to waste your time and energy worrying about poor little Mia. I don't have a pony in this race anymore.”

With that, I turned on my heel and all but ran from the room. I rounded the corner of the hall. My vision blurred from tears or the cancer; I wasn't quite sure which. I bumped into someone but didn't see who it was. I just pushed myself harder, moving faster and faster as I burst out of the school, cut across the grounds, the parking lot, and along the trail that would lead me through the park, and ultimately, home.

The closer I came to my house, the more I relaxed, the more buoyant I became. This was it. Soon, very soon, I'd be free. Free of this terrible curse that plagued me. Free of this broken, disease-riddled body. Free of this life.

Inside the cold, lonely house, I marched straight to my parents' bedroom, through it, and into the master bathroom. Inside the medicine cabinet, I found exactly what I needed: Mom's prescription sleeping pills. She rarely took them, which was a good thing, because that left me with a nearly full bottle. This would do the trick quite nicely.

On my way up to my room, I stopped off in the kitchen to break into the liquor cabinet. With a fifth of old Jack tucked under my arm, I climbed the stairs for the very last time. I was done with making it look like an accident. I was done with everything. So what, if everyone knew it was a suicide? What they thought wouldn't change the fact that I'd be dead, and in my own way.

I didn't even need to leave a note. Mom and Dad would know why.

Pills in one hand, alcohol in the other, I closed the door to my bedroom and looked around, deciding on the best place to do this. The bed? The floor? Or, should I maybe set myself up in the tub? That'd probably be the best. That way, if I did make a mess—hey, I watched CSI. I knew what happened when a body died—it could be contained and thus easily cleaned up.

Or…

My gaze flicked over to the window. Not only did my room look out over the backyard, but the roof slope surrounding my window
was the perfect spot to sit and stargaze on hot summer nights. In fact, Kal and I had done that many times in our lives. My head bobbed in a decisive nod even before I'd made the choice to waltz over to the window and wrench it open.

My way. I'd said
when, where
, and
how
.

Perched on the roof, my back against the window frame, I unscrewed the whiskey and knocked back a huge burning gulp. My eyes instantly watered, sting of alcohol fumes singing off my nose hairs and all the taste buds in my mouth. The liquid landed at the bottom of my stomach with a cold, hard splash, almost instantly heated my insides and spread warmth throughout my chest.

I glanced down at the pill bottle, considered it for a moment. Then, I slipped it into my pocket. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt. I'd spend that time in reminiscence with Mr. Daniels, here.

I'd replayed many wonderful memories, and Jack was missing a good chunk of himself when I reluctantly pulled the bottle from my pocket. No use in delaying the inevitable. I flipped off the lid, my body pleasantly numb, thanks to Jack's anesthetizing capabilities.

I stared at the pills. How many would I need? Surely, I couldn't be greedy and take them all. Mom might need them afterward. Nestling Jack between my legs, I shook about a dozen pills into the palm of my hand. That should do it, and it still left Mom with a little less than half the bottle.

I stared down at the tiny white rounds littered my cupped palm for a second. These tiny little pills, with Jack's help, would ferry me off into the great beyond. Forget the angels. Those lazy bastards had their chance. I'd be my own guide, thank you very much.

I fingered the round white chips, lovingly. Slowly, I transferred them to my other hand and rescued Jack from the prison of my legs. “Any last words, old man?” I giggled, bouncing the bottle back and forth, the amber liquid sloshing over my fingers.