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And if that wasn’t scary enough, I sat on my bed and played a few chords, but nothing sounded good. Nothing sounded right. And that blackness, well, it was still there. Still invading every space inside me, falling into every nook and cranny that made up Trevor Lewis.
I’d just had an epic meltdown, and hiding in my room didn’t make me feel any better. Nothing did. I was going to be eighteen, and I knew I was acting like a damn eight-year-old, but I couldn’t seem to help it.
We’d been home from Baton Rouge for a few hours, had just finished dinner, and Mom said something about studying and the stupid government test and I just…I lost it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Taylor speechless. And my dad, man, when he could speak, he told me to disappear because he was this close to hurting me.
He said that, and my mom burst into tears.
I told my mom to go to hell. My mom. What the hell is wrong with me? Kind of a rhetorical question, because I know exactly what the deal is.
Epileptic.
Jesus, the
sound of the word made me sick, and now it was something tangible. Something real. It was a label I couldn’t hide from. Not only was I the stupid bastard who’d scrambled his brains, now I was an epileptic to boot.
Awesome. Great thing to add to my résumé.
Fuck.
I’d started this summer with pretty low expectations, but even I hadn’t seen the freak-on-the-floor thing happening.
Someone knocked at my door. I considered saying nothing. Doing nothing. You know, ’cause that was the easy way out. The immature way out. Though I guess immature and Trevor were kinda one and the same these days.
The knock sounded again, and I swore, wincing when I stood, ’cause along with everything else, my knee hurt like hell. I considered pulling on a T-shirt but then thought what was the point?
It was probably my mom, though I hoped that it was my dad. Hell, I wanted it to be him just as much as I wanted him to kick my ass. Maybe then I’d feel better about things. Maybe then I’d feel.
I was nearly there, my hand on the doorknob, when I heard her.
“Trev?”
For a moment I faltered. I wasn’t ready to see Everly yet. God, would I ever be? I kept thinking of how stupid I’d sounded in the hospital, messing up my words. And of the shame and embarrassment that wouldn’t go away. That’s not what a guy wants to feel when he’s thinking about his girl. Worse than that even was the thought of that freak on the ground. When I thought of Everly, I pictured myself on the ground, with a bunch of strangers staring at us. How was I ever going to get used to that? Bad enough that it was me on the ground, but even worse for Everly to be there with me. That was pretty hard to take.
“Trevor? I…I really need…to talk.”
Huh. Maybe she wanted to break up with me. Maybe she’d finally figured out that I was a lost cause. That I was never getting back to the way I was before. Fired up at the thought, I was motivated to get this over with.
I whipped open the door and…
She fell into my arms, her body shaking and her fingers cold on my back as she dug in and burrowed against my chest. I was kind of shocked and, if I was honest, a little grateful, but mostly a lot confused.
I wasn’t allowed to have girls in my room. Not since my mom had caught me feeling up Brooke Smith. I’d been fourteen, and she’d been a year older. It had totally been worth it because, you know, boobs, real live boobs. Still, my mom hadn’t shared the joy that a fourteen-year-old boy feels when that first time happens, and she hadn’t been real happy to find a braless Brooke in my bed and me in my boxers. So the no-girls-in-my-room rule had been firmly established, and that was one the parents were pretty much in agreement on. You don’t want to know how many times I’d been warned about what would happen to me if I made them grandparents before their time.
After the stunt I’d pulled earlier, this had to be pretty damn important for my parents to let Everly in.
“You never called me,” she whispered.
I wanted to tuck that stupid piece of hair behind her ear. I wanted to hug her back and smell her shampoo. I wanted to hold her head and kiss her mouth, taste the cherry gloss that she used. God, there was so much I wanted to do, but something held me back. Some invisible force field that said back the hell off.
So I did nothing. I said nothing. I just stood there like an idiot (which I sorta was) and listened to her sniffle until there was no more sniffling. Until her body stopped shaking and her fingers were warm.
Finally she pulled away, and I couldn’t look at her. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see her. I mean, that would be stupid crazy. She was the most gorgeous girl I knew. I just didn’t want her to see me.
So I turned around, feeling that familiar spike of anger hit when I spied the Gibson lying across my bed. I stomped across the room, grabbed it up, and placed it back in the corner where it belonged. Where it would stare at me in silence, a reminder of everything I’d lost.
“Are you okay?” Everly asked.
“Never been better.” My answer was clipped, but at least I got the words right. Score one for the freak.
