Harp's Song (18 page)

“Hey man, I thought we had a deal, you back off her.” Ethan says. I look between Ethan and Vincent and walk away. I don’t want anything to do with this show down.

I soothe myself with orchestra for the next hour, and instead of joining everyone in the cafeteria, I go to the library and eat a granola bar while I do the homework I missed yesterday.

I move through the rest of the day without interacting with anyone and thankfully, I don’t see Connor again. I’m practicing my piece for the state music competition in the rehearsal room, when there’s a knock on my door.

“Hey Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Harp, I wanted to come see how you’re doing? You never answered any of our texts, and when you weren’t here yesterday we were really worried.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I just wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but I’m better today. No need to worry—thanks, though,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.

“I don’t understand what happened between you and Connor Saturday night, but he’s a wreck. I’ve never seen him like this—he hasn’t eaten or slept since you left.”

I don’t look at him as I put my cello away and grab my stuff. When I try to move past him through the door, he stops me.

“Harp stop,” he says and I lift my head to look at his face—filled with sincerity and worry, “He loves you, you know. And I know you love him. He’s my best friend and I hate seeing him like this, please talk to him and tell him what happened. He’ll understand … you know he will.”

My whole body tenses as I channel my feelings, “I appreciate what you are doing Ethan, really I do. Connor is lucky to have you as his friend, but I can’t be with him … at least not right now. I’ve got to go.”

I walk away from him toward the entrance where my mom should be waiting to pick me up, when I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see Ethan following me. I push the door open hoping he’ll leave me alone, but as soon as I’m outside, his voice stops me.

“Harp, I get that you need some time, but please don’t do anything stupid right now.”

I spin around on my heels so fast, I think I may have whiplash “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I saw Vincent with you today. Please don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to see you do anything you’ll regret.”

Now I’m pissed. Screw him. Screw Connor. I don’t need this crap. No one understands what it’s like to have your life turned upside down. To find out that you are the product of violence and mistrust so horrific, the pain of that event has seeped into your bones. Nothing is the same anymore. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without being disgusted knowing part of me belongs to a man that could do such a sickening thing.

Neither one of my parents wanted me. To top that off, the pain of my unwanted presence caused my mother to abuse me. For years, I’ve had the only parent I know tell me over and over that I’m worthless, ugly, and annoying. That I ruined her life. Years later the father whose existence I’ve only known about for a week, tells me that I’m nothing and a whore within minutes of meeting me.

Now Ethan stands here talking to me about doing something stupid and regrets. Screw him. I’m so done. This is my life and I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’ve managed so far, and I can certainly manage until I leave for college.

“Back off Ethan,” I say seething with anger. “In case you don’t already know, I’ve been dealt a pile of crap my whole life, so I know how to take care of myself. I don’t need you telling me what to do or not do.”

“I know that Harp,” he says sincerely, “But you’re my friend too and I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m just trying to help. I care about you … we all do.”

Seeing the honesty in his face makes my heart clench, but I am not giving in that easily. I’m about ready to make sure he knows that too.

“Harp, is everything ok here?” my mom asks startling me because she’s suddenly standing next to me.

“Yeah, everything is fine mom. Let’s go,” I say grabbing her arm and yanking her toward the car with me.

“Who is that?” she asks pulling out of the school.

“No one,” I simply answer her and stare out the window.

“Didn’t look like no one. That boy looked genuinely concerned about you. Who is he? I don’t think I’ve seen him come by the house before.”

“Ugh, fine mom, that’s Ethan. He’s Connor’s best friend and … ” I stop myself from saying my friend.

“And … ?” she probes.

I don’t answer her and instead stare out the window until we pull into our driveway. I’m out of the car and in my room before she’s even shut her door. I spend the rest of the night interrupting my homework with replays of the conversation I had with Ethan. In my heart of hearts, I know he meant well, but the problem is I’m not seeing things so clearly right now.

In fact, my view of myself in this world has shifted. The only thing I feel certain about is my cello and music. I’m ready to leave everything else behind. Unfortunately, when I feel high with thoughts of empowerment like that, I soon start drowning in thoughts of how I came into this world and how neglected I’ve been, and then I become angry. And that’s what runs through my veins—anger—distorting all my rational thoughts.

Mr. Holcomb is pulling into the school parking lot after driving us to and from the state music competition. It’s only a half hour drive to the university where it was held, but because it’s a school event they provide transportation so we’ve got two vans. Mr. Holcomb drives one with the students, and the music department secretary drives the other van with our instruments.

Only three students from our school qualified for the state competition. We all pile out of the van before unloading our instruments and locking them in the music room. When we’ve said our goodbyes, I walk through the school and out the side door to meet my mom. She wanted to come and watch me perform, but I didn’t feel like it, so she relented.

The last few weeks have crawled by. I’ve spent lunch in the library every day and avoided Connor as much as possible. I’ve been so successful, that I’ve only seen him twice. Ethan and Emma, on the other hand, won’t leave me alone. At home, I lock myself in my room and only eat dinner when my mom forces me to. The only other person I can’t seem to avoid, and see more now than I did before, is Vincent. I swear every time I turn around he’s there.

“Hey,” my mom says leaning on her car, “How’d you do today?”

“I got an “I” rating,” I say deadpanned.

“Harp, that’s fantastic! That’s four years in a row. Amazing!” she says giving me a hug.

I pull away from her and turn toward the sound of cheers from the side of the school where the baseball field is.

“You want to watch the rest of the baseball game before we celebrate,” she asks. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“No, let’s just go home,” I say turning back to her.

“Harp, besides babysitting, you have been a hermit the last few weeks. I’m sick of it. You need to join the land of the living and we need to start talking about everything you are going through.”

“No. Mom.”

“Let’s go,” she says and grabs my arm dragging me toward the baseball field.

Lucky for me the bleachers are packed, so we stand off to the side in the dark. I don’t want anyone to see me. The guys are down by one run. They easily get the other team out and start a new inning. Connor is up to bat and he swings at the first two pitches, missing the first one and tipping the second one foul. The pitcher releases his next pitch and I hold my breath as he swings again. The sound of the contact between the ball and the bat gives me chills, and I watch as the ball goes sailing into deep centerfield hitting the back of the wall. Connor makes it to second base before he stops. The cheers from the crowd are deafening.

Ethan steps up to bat now. He tips the first pitch foul but settles in for the next one. This time, the crackle of the hit sounds like lightning in the thick night air, and the ball is sent sailing over the wall. Ethan and Connor start running and as Connor hits home plate and the rest of the team rushes to meet him from the bench, then they practically tackle Ethan. The sight makes me smile.

My mom and I stay until the end of the game just to make sure the guys win, which they do. We turn around to go to the car when I hear loud cheering, so I look to see what’s going on. When I do, I see a group of girls waiting for the guys to exit the field. My eyes zoom in on Connor and all I see is red. He’s kissing one of the girls in the group. I can’t freaking believe him. I guess a few weeks was all it took for him to get over us.

Ugh.I.Hate.Him.

Then I remember what Vincent said to me in the hall. He was right. Connor did move on as soon as he could. I guess he didn’t really want me. I stomp my way back to the car and slam the door as I get in.

“What’s wrong Harp? Did something happen? You were fine a few minutes ago.”

“It’s nothing, just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Ok, let’s go celebrate your success today. How does Italian sound?”

“Yeah, fine, just go.”

I make it through dinner with minimal conversation. Sometimes I feel bad that my mom is putting this much effort into everything lately, including this dinner. I feel like I’m better than this, but then conflicting emotions flood my mind and heart, and I’m back to brooding.

When we’ve paid the bill, I stand to leave but can’t move my feet because Connor, Ethan and some of the other baseball players are coming in with a group of girls. The same girls waiting for them after the game. The same girl that was sucking Connor’s face. I throw myself back down in the booth.

“Harp, what are you doing? I thought we were leaving?”

“Not yet, just sit here for a few minutes ok. Then we can go.” I say keeping tabs on the group as they are escorted to a large table in the back of the restaurant.

“Ok, we can go now,” I tell her.

As we stand, I glance over to their table just to make sure they aren’t paying attention to us, but unfortunately luck is not on my side tonight. Connor is sitting next to Taylor and they are holding hands. It makes me sick. I can’t believe Connor is dating Taylor again after she used him. Maybe that’s what he wants, though. Maybe he’s using her … for
that
too. I can’t believe he would hurt me like this.

I’ve been hurt so much during the past month, but none of it comes even close to the pain of seeing Connor with Taylor. Knowing how intimate they’ve been, and that we
weren’t
doesn’t help my pain. I see him quickly pull his hand away from hers as he looks at me like he’s searching for something.

Unfortunately for him there’s nothing left inside me for him. Or anyone else for that matter. Mom tries to comfort me on the way home, but I ignore her and lock myself in my room. I crawl into a ball in my bed and cry. I think I’ve cried more in the last month than I have my entire life.

The emotional rollercoaster I’ve been through has taken its toll and it’s hard to keep the tears at bay. I know with all the rational thought in my head that I let Connor go. I was the one who pushed him away. So, what I saw tonight is my fault, not his or Taylor’s, but mine. Regardless, it still freaking hurts like hell and I cry until I fall asleep.

I finally make it through an entire week at school without seeing Connor. My backpack is about twenty pounds these days since I avoid my locker at all costs. I only go there when I know with absolute certainty he won’t be there. I’m here now switching out books before music theory when suddenly Taylor is in front of me with a Chesire cat-like smile spread across her face.

“What do you want Taylor?”

“I want you to know that Connor and I are together now.” She gloats flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Great. Super. Awesome. Now, what do you really want?”

“Since he’s mine, I want you to stay away. You really did a number on him and it’s taken me a while to get him to feel better and be happy, which we are in case you were curious.”

“That’s great Taylor, and so kind of you to flaunt your happiness in my face. I really appreciate it. Now you best scurry along with tweedledee and tweedledum.” I say sarcastically and nod toward her two best friends.

I can tell she’s trying not to let my poor attitude get to her, but I think I’ve left enough of an impression because while her body language is assertive, her eyes are hesitant.