Surviving Nicholas Jacobs

Have you ever wished that you could turn back time? I certainly have. To rewind to the single pivotal event from which all other subsequent actions cascade. Now, that would be something. What power there is in hindsight, knowing how decisions will play out. With the knowledge I have now, would I have said those angry, spiteful words? Would I have played with fire so recklessly? It was my big mouth that shifted his attention in the first place, why his gaze fell on me with such malice and contempt. Nicholas Jacobs, as unpredictable and volatile as the sea, decided my life was worth consuming. Our exchange in the hallway that fateful day was but a blip in the history of my existence. But it would change everything.

This beautiful, angry, and disturbed man, who had my heart since childhood, had long moved on from our sandbox-sharing friendship. Growing apart over the years, he rose to star quarterback, ruthless bully, and heartbreaker extraordinaire. Meanwhile, I had become uninteresting, somewhat shy, and a plain Jane to most. He burned brightly, to dangerous combustible levels, while I was insecure and wished to fade into the background. Any sort of relationship dissolved years ago. Nick seemed cruelly indifferent about it, but I mourned him terribly. He remained handsome, charming and smug, which made our distance all the harder. Whenever I allowed myself a quick longing glance toward his locker, or pretended not to watch him dart about the football field, the memories and regret would rise to suffocating levels. Haunting was a past I couldn’t quite put to rest.

And then my sister happened. Not that he was anything to me anymore, but it was still soul-crushing. There was no more friendship left to muddy, so I shouldn’t have cared. I probably would have swallowed my pain eventually had he not treated her as he did. Like a category five storm, he blew in and absolutely ruined her. Her reputation, her social life, and her confidence had been totally shredded.

Yes, Nick was a different person now. The ten-year-old version of him holding my hand and offering his ice cream when I dropped mine had long expired. I doubted he even gave me a single thought in his day. And weirdly, that was probably for the best. Who he had become — alluring but also extremely treacherous, I couldn’t recognize. Somewhere along the way, he had lost himself. I never knew at the time why his anger was so toxic and poisonous. A darkness had taken root, feasting on all the good parts of him. And perhaps more than hatred, there was a deeply masked melancholy. Interesting that a young man could be so many things, a burning fiery flame that people couldn’t stop gravitating to, yet also a giant black cloud of broody moodiness. Like a ticking time bomb, people got off on the exhilaration of being in the mere vicinity of him. It was as if they drew from the electricity in the air and the thick, arousing anticipation of his surefire detonation. He was worshipped like a god, and much like the divine, he was loved and feared in equal measure. Boys wanted to be like him, and girls wanted to lie beneath him. But not me, not anymore.

So, on that fateful day, when I looked him in the eyes and said what I said, I instantly cursed my actions. It was a dreadful slip-up, a gut-wrenching mistake I would end up paying for in spades. Where I even found the courage or stupidity to utter such an unabashed comment is beyond me. I think I tired of no one ever challenging him, or putting him in his place. A jock on a pedestal, Nicholas Jacobs was never held accountable for his actions. A guy who couldn’t be bothered to glance at me, let alone speak to me, mentioned my sister, and something in me just snapped. I went from a nameless, blob-like form in the crowd to the center of Nick’s universe. As much as that would’ve made most girls’ hearts flutter, mine was about to experience the crushing weight of his intentions, which were not at all affectionate.

Alas, I could not turn back time. So, we stood, he and I, in an epic battle of wits. Nick’s goal was to bring about my utter destruction through manipulation, humiliation, and brute force. My sole goal was survival. We are talking predator, prey shit. So yeah, if I could take it back, I would. But purely in the name of self-preservation.

It was not an abnormal crisp, sunny day in October when the autumn season had already altered the colours of the leaves. Burnt oranges, vibrant reds, and golden yellows gleamed brightly across the canvas of the late afternoon school grounds. The sunlight washed through the windows of my 12th grade math class, warming up the space to balmy levels. I was busy regretting having worn such a thick sweater. Between the power of the sun’s rays and what I thought was a pair of eyes on my back, I was overheating. I glanced back twice, wondering why I was plagued with such a sensation of being watched. Nick sat a few rows back, playing with his pencil, rhythmically weaving it between his fingers. Yet, I swore I caught him staring intensely. I must’ve been imagining things.

The shrill ring of the school bell snapped me out of my spiraling paranoia. Books in hand, I shoved them hastily underarm, and as I rocketed from my desk, my eyes found Nick one last time. It was an attempt to read his expression and discern his thoughts. My heart hammered against my ribs when I sped-walked out of the classroom, desperately avoiding any unexpected confrontation. At my locker, I turned the combination with practised ease, funnelled textbooks into my backpack, and closed the metal door with a click that echoed my relief. With each step toward the exit, there was a slight loosening of the day’s tension, and the thought of escaping the school confines dulled the edges of my disquiet. I am not sure why I felt that way. My anxiety was unnatural and misplaced. When I look back on it, perhaps my edginess was some sort of premonition of what was to pass between Nick and me. All I know was I didn’t care to find my friends. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

That’s when I saw him and his crowd of worshippers. Nick’s tall and intimidating stature leaned casually against the locker, a harem of females giggling and snickering to his left, and a couple of jockstrap besties to his right. There was always a gaggle of people around Nick, an entourage that would permanently attach to his hip if they could. He was the sun, and they orbited around him in constant necessity.

Now I have thought this through a million times, and perhaps this is where I faltered. Instead of doing what my intuition screamed at me to do, which was to keep walking with my head down, my eyes nervously drifted toward Nick’s fiery scrutiny. Despite shining so glaringly, everything about him was dark. Dark hair framed his dark features. Even his eyes were dark with tiny flames refracted from their centers.

“Hey Sadie!” I heard him bark , his voice a deeply aggressive baritone dripping in toxic masculinity. My body jumped as I slowly spun to face him.

“Hey Nick,” I mumbled, trying to play it cool. Silence befell the rest of the group. They must have been equally confused about Nick’s behaviour.

“How’s that slut of a sister holding up?” His lips curled into a wolf-like leer. “The guys sure miss her around here. I know I certainly do.”

“Excuse me?” I choked, my heart doing another painful lurch in my chest.

“Come now, Sadie,” he tsked, wagging his finger in mocking reproach. “Everyone rides her just like a bus route.” The boys in the group burst out laughing, clapping each other on the back, while the girls gasped behind open palms. “So you tell Mandy she’s welcome at my place any day of the week. She knows I’ll show her a good time.” Nick winked and crossed his arms over his broad, muscular torso.

His vile words lit a furious inferno within me, a tempest that had been simmering beneath a deceptive calm. I felt the anger churn in the pit of my stomach, a scorching blaze that coursed through my veins, flooding my every fibre. It was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a torrent of scalding rage that propelled my voice into a rapid-fire assault.

“How dare you,” I spat out, each syllable laced with the heat of a thousand suns. My response was relentless, a barrage of condemnation against his cruelty, demanding respect not just for my sister but for every individual who had been the target of his corrosive disdain. “From what I heard, you can’t even get it up.”

There it was, floating through the air, hovering uncomfortably in the silence that had fallen. I registered the initial shock in his eyes and then the seething hatred. I could see the same reaction in myself from seconds ago now ignite in him. If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead on the spot. The rest of our peers shifted awkwardly in place, exchanging uneasy glances back and forth.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Nick took a threatening step forward as I took a stumbling one back. Whatever space I could generate between us would never be enough. Somehow, I swallowed my fear and continued.

“You heard me.” I swiveled to face the swarm of girls. “Just a heads up, ladies. He has real performance issues.”

“What?” Brittney, the head cheerleader, sputtered. She reached out and squeezed his hand, trying to quell the violent tide brewing within Nick. “In my experience, that’s not true at all.”

“If small dicks and one-minute men are all you’ve ever known, then I suppose you would say that.” I scowled.

“You bitch...”

“Shut up, Britt!” Nick snapped, shoving her behind him and striding forward. I retreated, but he was faster, his body practically plastered to mine. Nick’s muscles rolled and tensed beneath his skin-tight shirt as his towering presence cast me in his shadow. His biceps strained against the bunched-up fabric of his sleeves, emphasizing the raw power that lay beneath. Nick’s jaw was set, a stark line of determination framing a face that was undeniably handsome, yet in that moment, was eclipsed by an expression that was anything but gentle. His eyes, known to be charming, now blazed with menacing intent. His gaze locked onto mine with a piercing intensity that seemed to push the very air aside, enveloping me in a wave of dread. Nick was the embodiment of both allure and alarm—masculine beauty marred with a predatory edge.

“Sadie, that was uncalled for. You’re lucky we’re at school right now. I’d be forced to teach you a lesson.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from my face and tucked it gently behind my ear. I shuddered at his icy touch. Turning from him, he grabbed my arm and jerked me back. “But you won’t be at school for much longer, will you, sweetheart? I’m certain I’ll be getting an apology from you soon.”

“Fat fucking chance, you limp-dick pig.”

His friends bellowed, doubling over with side-splitting laughter. “Sick burn, Sadie,” one of them hollered, giving his neighbour a high five. The boy quickly quieted when Nick shot him a freezing glare. I spun from him then and walked out. He let me go, still processing what had happened. A wave of euphoria washed over me at my sudden boast of confidence, a small sense of justice tugging at me. But the feeling was short-lived when I escaped out onto the front lawn of the school. What had I done? I was on Nick’s shit list now, a place I had worked so hard to stay off of. I’d never spoken like that to anyone before. Shy and pleasant is how most would describe me. Those words I didn’t think I was ever capable of. But I said it, and to Nicholas Jacobs, of all people. Committing the equivalent of high school social life suicide, I sped-walked home in a panic. At the risk of sounding like a dramatic, hormonal adolescent, I was royally fucked. My life was over. It really was the beginning of the end. I knew it even then as I raced toward the sanctity of my home. I had made my bed, now I would have to lie in it.