Slammed (34 page)

She places the wrapped gift on the bed. She scoots toward me and takes my hands in hers again. "Lake, he didn't move on. He didn't choose this new job over you…he chose his new job over
us.
He wanted you to have more time with
me
."

I take a deep breath as I absorb everything my mother just revealed. Is she right? Does he really love me enough that he would be willing to let me go?

“
Mom?” My voice is weak. “What if you’re wrong?”

“
What if I’m not wrong, Lake? Question
everything
. What if he
wants
to choose you? You’ll never know if you don’t tell him how you feel. You’ve completely shut him out. You haven’t given him the
chance
to pick you.”

She’s right, I haven’t. I’ve been completely closed off since that night in the laundry room. Maybe he just needs to know it’s okay. I need to let him know that it’s okay for him to love me.

"It's seven-thirty, Lake. You know where he is. Go tell him how you feel."

I don't move. My legs feel like jell-o.

"Go!" she laughs.

I jump off the bed and run to my room. My hands are shaking and my thoughts are all jumbled together while I throw on my pants. I put on the purple shirt that I wore on our first and only date. I go to the bathroom and inspect my reflection.

There's something missing. I run to my room and reach under my pillow and pull out the purple clip. I snap it open and remove my mother's strands of hair and place them in my jewelry box. I go back to the bathroom and brush my bangs to the side of my head and snap the clip in place.

21.

“
Don't say it's over
‘Cause that's the worst news I
could hear I swear that I will
Do my best to be here
just the way you like it
Even though it
’s hard to hide
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and
change for you.”

-The Avett Brothers,
If it’s the Beaches

When I walk into the club, I don't stop to look for him. I know he's here. I don't give myself time to second guess anything as I walk with false confidence toward the front of the room. The emcee is announcing scores for the previous performer when I walk onto the stage. He's apprehensive as I grab the microphone from him and turn toward the audience. The lights are so bright, I can't see anyone's faces. I can't see Will.

"I would like to perform a piece I wrote," I say into the microphone. My voice is steady, but my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I can't turn back now. I have to do this. "I know this isn't standard protocol, but it's an emergency," I say.

Laughter overcomes the audience. The rumble of the crowd is loud, causing me to freeze at the thought of what I'm about to do. I start to have second thoughts and turn around to the emcee but he nudges me back and gives me the go ahead.

I place the microphone in the stand and position it down to my height. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I begin.

"Three dollars!" someone yells from the audience.

I open my eyes and realize I haven't paid my fee yet. I frantically dig my hands in my pockets and pull out a five dollar bill and walk it over to the emcee.

I return to the microphone and close my eyes.

"My piece is called-"

Someone's tapping me on the shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around to see the emcee holding two one-dollar bills up.

"Your change," he says.

I take the money and put it back in my pocket. He's still standing there.

"Go!" I whisper through clenched teeth.

He stammers and walks off the stage.

Once again, I turn toward the microphone and begin to speak. "My piece is called
Schooled
," I say into the microphone. My voice is shaking, so I take a few deep breaths. I just hope I can remember it, I re-wrote a few lines on the way here. I inhale one last time and begin.

I got
schooled
this year.

By
everyone.

By my little brother…

by The
Avett
Brothers…

by my
mother
, my
best friend
, my
teacher
, my
father
,

and

by

a

boy.

a boy that I'm
seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably
in
love
with…

I got
so schooled
this year.

By a
nine
-year-old.

He taught me that it's
okay
to live
life

a little
backwards.

And how to
laugh

At what you would
think

is
un-laughable.

I got
schooled
this year

By a
Band!

They taught me how to find that
feeling
of
feeling
again.

They taught me how to
decide
what to
be

And go
be
it.

I got
schooled
this year.

By a
cancer
patient.

She taught me
so
much. She's
still
teaching me so much.

She taught me to
question.

To
never
regret.

She taught me to
push
my boundaries,

Because
that's
what they're
there
for.

She told me to find a
balance
between
head
and
heart

And then

she taught me
how
…

I got
schooled
this year

By a
Foster Kid

She taught me to
respect
the hand that I was
dealt.

And to be
grateful
I was even dealt a
hand.

She taught me that
family

Doesn't have to be
blood.

Sometimes your
family

are your
friends.

I got
schooled
this year

By my
teacher

He taught me

That the
points
are not the
point,

The
point
is
poetry
…

I got
schooled
this year

By my
father.

He taught me that
hero's
aren't always
invincible

And that the
magic

is
within
me..

I got schooled this year

by

a

Boy.

a boy that I'm
seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably
in
love
with.

And he taught me the most important thing of
all
…

To put the
emphasis

On
life.

The feeling that comes over you, when you're in front of an audience? All those people craving for your words, yearning to see a glimpse into your soul…it's exhilarating. I thrust the microphone back into the emcee's hands and run off the stage. I look around but don't see him anywhere. I look at the booth we sat in on our first date, but it's empty. I realize, after standing there, waiting to be swept off of my feet-that he's not even here. I spin around in a circle, scanning the room a second time. A third time. He's not here.

The same fleeting feeling I had on that stage, on his dryer, in the booth in the back of the room-it's gone. I can't do it again. I want to run. I need air. I need to feel the Michigan air against my face.

I throw open the door and take a step outside when a voice, amplified through the speakers, stops me in my tracks.

"That's not a good idea," he says into the microphone. I recognize his voice,
and
that repetitive phrase.

I slowly turn around and face the stage. Will is standing there, holding the microphone between his hands, looking directly at me.

"You shouldn't leave before you get your scores," he says as he motions to the judges table. I follow his gaze to the judges who are all turned around in their seats. All four of them have their eyes locked on me; the fifth seat is empty. I gasp as I realize
Will
was the fifth judge.

So he
saw
me. He watched me do my piece.

I sense that I'm floating again as I make my way to the center of the room. Everyone is quiet. I look around and all eyes are on me. No one understands what's happening. I'm not so sure
I
even understand what's happening.

Will looks at the emcee standing next to him. "I'd like to perform a piece. It's an
emergency
," he says.

The emcee backs away and gives Will the go ahead. Will turns back to face me.

"Three dollars," someone yells from the crowd.

Will darts a look at the emcee. "I don't have any cash," he says.

I immediately pull the two dollars in change out of my pocket and run to the stage, smacking it down in front of the emcees feet. He inspects the money I laid before him.

"Still a dollar short," the emcee says.

The silence in the room is interrupted as several chairs slide from under their tables. There is a faint rumble as people walk toward me. I'm surrounded, being pushed and shoved in different directions as the crowd grows thicker. It begins to disperse just as fast and the silence slowly returns as everyone makes their way back to their seats. I return my gaze to the stage, where dozens of dollar bills are haphazardly thrown at the emcees feet. My eyes follow along as a quarter rolls off the edge of the stage and falls onto the floor. It wiggles and spins as it comes to rest at my foot.

The emcee is focused on the pile of money before him. "
Okay
," he says. "I guess that covers it. What's the name of your piece, Will?"

Will brings the microphone to his mouth and finds me in the crowd. "Better than third," he says.

I met a girl in a U-Haul.