Not sure how to answer back, I change the subject.
Why didn’t you meet me today?
His lips grow tight and there’s something in his expression that tells me I’m not going to like his answer. At the very least he’s struggling with it.
“I couldn’t. People are talking and I just don’t want it to get worse.”
It hurts more than I want to admit. This Jekyll and Hyde thing he’s doing should have prepared me for this kind of answer, but it doesn’t. People have been talking about me, making fun of me for my problems forever, so it’s nothing new to me. I never thought about how it would feel for someone considered normal when they’re caught talking to me.
It doesn’t just hurt for that reason though. It hurts because this guy I grew up knowing, the one I thought was never affected by what anyone said about him, is affected. In coming to my rescue the day before, he’s having his life turned upside down, all because I’m different.
“Isabelle,” he says with a sigh. “Please say something.”
The way he speaks, asking me to say something, is not lost on me. I’m not sure if it was just a bad word choice, considering he knows how I am or he just means to write something, but either way, that hurt too. It seems like this entire moment is one big ball of hurt and I want it to be over.
Take me home please.
I lay the notebook back down between us and turn in my seat until I’m facing ahead. I feel his eyes on me for a few minutes and even knowing that he’s doing it makes this even more uncomfortable. I’m not scared or uneasy really, it’s just hard, not looking back over at him.
Before I can give in, he turns the key in the ignition and brings the car to life finally gunning the engine and peeling out of the parking lot. I breathe a sigh of relief that the conversation seems to be over and soon, I’ll be home and safe where I belong.
It’s only when he pulls into my driveway a few minutes later, putting the car in park and turning the key again that I realize the conversation is most definitely not over.
“I wanted to drive you home today because I wanted to say I’m sorry for everything. Not just what happened today, but for every single thing I’ve ever said or done to you. Isabelle, I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I really do mean it. I’m sorry.”
I want to believe his words, but I know that after I get out of the car and go inside, everything will go back to the way it was before this even happened. He’ll go to school tomorrow, he’ll torture Eric, or even me again. He’ll laugh as he does it and we’ll be right back where we were before.
I want him to be different but what he said earlier might be true. He really doesn’t know how to be any other way.
Picking up the notebook, my hands shaking, I press the pen to the paper and I start writing.
Actions speak louder than words ever could, Kayden. If you’re really sorry, prove it.
This time I don’t wait for him to say something mean to kick me out of the car. There’s nothing else he can do anyway. Not waiting for him to read my words, I push the door open and slide from the car, running across the lawn as quickly as I can.
I have to get away from him. I need to get away from the mixed emotions he brings out in me, things I can’t even describe because they’re all things I’ve never felt before. Mostly, I’m getting away from him because if I stay, I’m afraid I might do the one thing I swore I would never do.
Fall for him.
Chapter Six
Kayden
Shit.
That didn’t go the way I pictured it in my head.
When I saw her waiting for the bus, something came over me. I was planning on just jumping in my car and going for a drive to clear my head, but something stopped me.
I couldn’t leave without at least trying to explain to her why everything had taken such a shitty turn. I wanted to tell her about the deal I made with Dillon too, because I thought if I did, maybe she would understand things and realize I was doing it for her. I couldn’t do it though.
Even if I am doing this for her, agreeing to this so Dillon will leave her alone; I’m still being a jerk in the process because I’m attacking her friends and other kids like her.
Now I’m sitting here in her driveway and I’m pretty sure her mom’s gonna be home any minute, but I can’t move. I’m stuck reading her words over and over. The last words she said to me, they’re flashing at me so strong that it reminds me of those motel signs you see in the city, the ones that glow in the darkness of the night.
Actions speak louder than words ever could, Kayden. If you’re really sorry, prove it.
What does she think I was trying to do in offering her the ride home?