What Happened That Year

Benjamin

¨It’s fine,¨ I mumble, looking at the wall behind her. ¨It doesn’t really matter anyway.¨ I blink once, then twice, and finally four times before she finally speaks again. I watch her reaction in my peripheral vision. Her wonderful honey eyes squint, and her eyebrows furrow, disbelief written all over her perfect face.

¨I promise it won’t happen again.¨ She smirks, barely disguising her true feelings. I can practically taste the lie. It tastes like chocolate, the box she bought after the first cancellation. It smells like salt, the tears I never let her see. I would say something, maybe even shout, but really, I expected this. After the fourth raincheck she threw my way, I could tell she was not trying anymore. Jack, her boyfriend, was all her hormone-induced brain could think about. I see her eyeing me, and I just know she is waiting for me to lash out at her. And as I meet her beautiful hazel eyes filled with judgement, I consider doing just that. I envision my pale fist colliding with her perfectly tan face, her crying, and apologizing profusely for everything that she has put me through. But I won’t. Instead I breathe deeply, and feel my hands twitch as I let out a big fat lie.

¨I know it won’t,¨ I lie, hoping she will say something. I don’t even want her to necessarily apologize, but at least try harder. I want to make her feel guilty. But chances are that she already does, so I won’t go out of my way to be a jerk. I mean, she knows I am mad at her. She isn’t that dense, right? ¨Have fun,¨ I whisper, wishing her to just go back to being my best friend. I want it to be back to like when we were young and she would come over every single weekend, and would never cancel plans she has with me. But, sadly I know life doesn’t work like that. But still, I die inside when she turns away from me. I let my eyes water, and I let my shoulders sink. She didn’t even say goodbye to me. She didn’t even acknowledge my hand twitches. I never used to be able hide them from her, and I never wanted to. She used to pay attention to every little detail, to double-check that my words and my body language were saying the same thing.

¨Bye, Isabelle, I hope you enjoy leaving me for him,¨ I say to the air, thick with emotion. I turn around and head home, but only make it to the next alleyway before I need to stop. I duck into the alley, and collapse against the brick wall. I hear my breathing become shudders. I throw my pale hand over my twitching bottom lip just as I let out a gut-wrenching sob. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug my legs, waiting for it to be over. Wanting nothing more than to be held, by Isabelle, by my mom, by my dad, really anyone that is willing.

Dominick

I open my microwave just as it hits one second and feel victorious, until I take out my meal. It looks like someone cut pieces of cardboard and tried to pass it off as chicken strips. I really need to go grocery shopping, but I still have six more of these microwavable dinners. I go into the connected living room and then into my room. Sitting down at my desk, I am hit with a wave of nausea. I set the plate down on the black top, and sigh heavily. I close my eyes and count to twenty, waiting for the queasiness to pass. I open my brown eyes, and stare at the plate like a cop stares at a robber. I stretch my long fingers, just barely brushing my index against the fork and recoil. I try again, and am able to hold the metal fork. I breathe in deeply, then exhale shakily. I lift the metal calorie grabber, and bring it to the chicken, all while my brain shouts at me to stop, and my stomach urges me on.

¨Dominick James Paine!¨ I can hear my mom shout from behind my bedroom door. I grimace, set the fork back down, and stand up, trying not to move too quickly. Opening my door, I see my mom standing there glaring at my beloved gray Nike hoodie on the floor. My mouth starts moving before I can process anything at all.

¨I just got home, and I was gonna pick it up, I swear it, but then I realized I needed to eat dinner because its really late, so I made dinner, but then by the time I had finished eating I forgot about it, and I am so sorry.¨ Words escape my mouth without ever taking a second to breathe. When I finally do breathe in, my lungs thank me. My mom just shakes her head and shrugs, still waiting for me to fix my mistake. I quickly cross the living room, bend down and grab my hoodie. Upon straightening, I get a wave of unsettling vertigo. I lean onto the wall with my free hand, balancing myself. My mom breathes in deeply and for a moment I think she is about to lecture me about taking care of myself or worry about how to take care of me, but when I look at her I realize she’s not even facing me. I slowly put my hoodie on the coat rack by the door. The normally short hallway to my bedroom seems like a 4k as I try to walk without falling over. Eventually I make it to my room, only after walking at a snail’s pace.

¨Make sure to open your window tonight, it’s gonna get hot and the air conditioner still isn’t working right.¨ I mumble agreement, and close my door. I walk unsteadily to my bed and lay down, instantly feeling so much better. I look at my untouched plate, and feel bad about lying to my mom. She has been such a helicopter mom ever since winter. I wish she would trust me, I am trying to be better. I glance at my plate again and ignore the hunger pain that develops in my stomach.

Just as I am starting to fall asleep, I hear something that startles me wide awake. I can hear heartbreak happening outside. I hear sobs that make me wince, breathy inhales so devastatingly lonely, and sniffles come from what I can only assume is a guy breaking apart. I consider looking out my window, but decide that what I am hearing is already intimate enough without knowing who it is. I continue to lay in my bed listening to his wails until I hear him calm down. Listening intently, I can hear him stand up and slowly away. Suddenly, I get inspiration for a song and walk over towards my guitar, mentally thanking the sad boy sitting in the alley of my apartment building.

3 Months Later

Benjamin

I wake up Monday morning aching all over, and immediately regret working that hard at soccer practice last night. I sit up, tentatively stretching my body. Thankfully I don’t have a headache, or else I would consider skipping school. Instead I just stand up, groaning the whole time. My closet seems almost entirely empty when I open it, I glance at my overflowing laundry basket and sigh. I grab a maroon t-shirt, my favorite pair of black jeans, and my white converse. I change into my school acceptable attire, grab my phone and bag, and leave my room. My mom sits at the small, scratched dining room table reading the newspaper. My dad looks up from the pan of eggs he is in the process of scrambling and smiles at me.

“Sit down, Ben, I am making some breakfast. I figured it would help start the school day off right.” He indicates to the chair next to my mom, and goes back to cooking. I sit down, glancing at mom, waiting for her to at least acknowledge me. “So, Ben, any big plans today? Soccer practice maybe?” My dad continues to talk to me even though I just took a huge gulp of orange juice, my personal favorite. I am just about to answer after swallowing my drink when he just goes on. “Well, probably not soccer practice because you had it yesterday. Which by the way, I was not a big fan that Coach Fisher scheduled it on a Sunday. But, anyway, are you working tonight? Oh wait, you already said on Friday that you did not work again until Wednesday.” He says all this while making scrambled eggs, pouring coffee for mom, and checking his email. One good thing about my dad is that he is great at multitasking, as for knowing social cues… not so good. But, I love him, so I have learned to just go with his rambles.

“Yeah, I don’t really have any plans today,” I mumble as he hands me my breakfast. Dad just squints at me and sits down across from me. I begin to dig into the eggs, not realizing just how hungry I was. “You did a good job with these, Dad. Delicious,” I praise my dad as he enjoys his own.

“Thanks, I made sure to add enough cheese, I remember you saying they tasted better that way.” He untenses his shoulders and looks at my face. “But really, no plans, at all? No friends you wanna go hang out with, or any girls you want to go on a date with?”

I spit out my eggs at that last one. My face heats up, and I stutter out an unintelligible answer. His eyebrows raise and I know I have to try harder. “No, dad. I am definitely not going on any dates. I am not ready for a relationship with anyone.” He seems satisfied with my answer and continues eating. I sigh heavily and attempt to slow my quickened breathing.

Dominick

I arrive to first hour, American History with Mr. Depker, just two minutes late. Which, I thought would be fine, but no, apparently two minutes late means detention. Technically, it was because of the fact that I have never been on time to this class, but in my defense I have said school needs to start later many times. I see my friend, Alex, roll his emerald eyes when Mr. Depker goes off on me. I sit down in my seat, coincidentally right next to Alex. His neon orange shirt grabs my attention and refuses to let go of it. I can’t help but stare at his bright shirt the entire hour. When the bell finally rings, I tear my eyes away from it, quickly close my notebook, and walk to my next class. Alex walks with me because his class is right across the hall from mine.

“Why do you even take out your notebook if all you do is doodle in it?” Alex asks me this simple question but I cannot answer. I shrug and go into the room, questioning everything as I sit down. Why do I get my notebook out, because its not to please Depker, seeing as how he knows I never actually write his notes down. It’s not because I enjoy doodling, I find it just as pointless as his class. And it is definitely not because I am artistically gifted, because I can barely make stick figures not look deformed.

“Does anyone know where I am supposed to sit,” asks a voice I know I have never heard before. “Because there a lot of empty spots.” I turn towards the new mystery, and am met with a face I will never forget. His jawline is so sharp he could cut stones, and eyes so uniquely brown. It is like copper was melted and poured into his eye sockets, then someone dribbled pure gold into a beautifully random pattern. I blink rapidly trying to focus on anything but his gorgeous face. I watch as someone in my grade shows this handsome stranger where he can sit. I almost faint on the spot when it is next to me. I bite my bottom lip and look down at my desk. I can smell his cologne, just an amazing mix of woodsy and sweet, which I never used to think could even exist. I breathe in deeply, and prepare myself to talk to this simply wonderful boy.

“Hi Dominick. I am Dominick, you aren’t. Um, I mean, my name is Dominick,” I stumble on my words and instantly die inside. “Um, well, I was wondering what your name might be.” Jesus Christ I sound like a creepy pedophile flirting with a child. I can feel my face burn with the intensity of hell. I watch him smile, and can feel myself just slightly calm down, but then he looks at me and I again lose my sanity in his eyes.

“I am Benjamin, and apparently you are Dominick,” Benjamin says while opening his notebook, which makes me then realize I have missed a page of notes. I go to grab my notebook but instead knock all of my stuff to the floor with a loud clang. I get on the floor and pick up my stuff, cringing as every single person turns to look at me. Slowly, I sit back down and begin to write notes.

“I’m sorry, I swear I am not usually this much of a mess. But, I got no sleep last night.” I hope that my explanation seems believable, because I do not want him to think I like him, I mean I do, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet, if ever.

“You’re fine dude. We are in an AP math class, I wasn’t exactly expecting the most socially capable people.” He chuckles and goes back to his notes.

“But, Benjamin, when I get a decent amount of sleep, I am a pretty charismatic guy. I can charm the pants off of almost anyone I want.” I finally speak in a more confident voice, one I am much more accustomed to. He opens his mouth to reply, when the teacher yells at the class for talking. I look back down at my notebook sheepishly and grab my pencil. I am about to start writing again when Benjamin slides his paper over to me. I look down at it and read the words: “First off, please don’t call me Benjamin, I hate it. And two, it sounds like you charm a lot of people’s pants off?..” I unconsciously laugh and the teacher glares at me from the front of the class. Benjamin looks at me and smiles mischievously. I shake my head and write my own note back to him, avoiding writing about the charming people’s pants off thing..

Benjamin

“Okay, Ben? Or would you prefer your last name? I know some guys do that. Or maybe Benji?” I read his note and have to refrain from laughing. Benji? No one has ever considered calling me Benji, but at the same time I think I like it. Why not? I circle the word Benji on his paper. I watch as his writes on his paper, loving just how neat his handwriting is. I glance at his cerulean eyes in my peripheral vision. He has nice eyes. I focus back onto the paper being handed back to me by Dominick. “Okay sweet, Benji. By the way, you can call me whatever. My name is Dominick Paine, so whatever you want.” I take a second to consider what I could call him, he came up with a good nickname for me so I don’t want to seem lame. I can see him looking at me, trying to not be obvious. He is not subtle about anything. He is probably jealous about the way I look, most guys are. I mean, I have spent a lot of time trying to look like this, so I would hope someone notices. Lets see, Nick? Nope, lame. Just Paine? Even worse. I decide to spend more time on it, which is also lame, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard right now. I don’t look at him for the rest of the hour, or write anything more, just go back to paying attention to the teacher. I can feel him getting frustrated with me, and I am honestly loving it.

“Class, make sure to find a partner for the project. While it is not necessary, I would really recommend it. It is a good way to divvy up responsibilities. The bell is about to ring, go ahead and pack up your stuff.” The teacher finally dismisses the class and I specifically avoid Dominick, or whatever I decide to call him, just to bother him. I want him to get the guts to ask me about the project. I gather my things as slow as I think possible, but he doesn’t try to ask about the project. Now my feelings are just hurt. Does he really not want to be friends with me? I thought he was dying to hang out with me, knowing I will be popular. It is quite obvious that he doesn’t deserve me if he can’t man up and ask me.

I walk to my next class pissed. He is such a pussy. Now, I have to try and find someone to partner with, and I’m pretty sure the only other people in that class are idiots. I mean, obviously not really because they are in that class, but socially; imbeciles. Although, I could probably do it by myself, but then I would look like a loner. God, Dominick fucked everything up. I refuse to be stuck with only one friend like a loser, because that did not work out very well. I sit down in what I can only assume is my seat, seeing as how it’s the only empty one, and greet the football players around me. They are smarter than stupid Dominick, and understand right away that I am the person to be friends with. I spend the rest of the day proving my superiority to the school’s hierarchy, and no one disapproves. Thankfully, I do not have any other class with the dumbass known as Dominick.