Count On Me(77)

Just like Amy said, he’s played me before; he could easily be playing me now.

“Alright ladies and gentleman, it’s that time again. It’s time to announce the Homecoming King and Queen of Wexfield High, 2014.”

Thankful for the interruption, I turn away from him and those eyes that I swear can see straight into me and focus on Principal Daniels. I might not think I can last here much longer, but I at least want to try and get through this part. It’s what I really want to see.

It’s the one time that a boy and a girl get to feel like the prince and princess of the entire school. It might not be something I’ll ever get to experience myself, but at least I can be here for the people that do.

“You might look like a princess, Isabelle Reagan, but if I had my way tonight, you’d also be a queen.”



Kayden



Homecoming King.

Well I didn’t see that coming, but as surprised as I am by it, I’m even more surprised by who the principal calls out as my Queen. If there’s ever a time when I needed a sign, it was now. I needed something to give me hope again. Hope that I would be able to get Isabelle to believe in me.

As soon as her name is announced, I know I’ve found it.

Watching as she makes her way toward the stage and more than that, toward me, I can feel her confusion as if I’m the one experiencing it. I don’t think she expected this to happen and I have to admit, neither did I. There isn’t another girl on the planet that deserves to be Homecoming Queen more than her though. This is her moment and man, do I want her to enjoy every second of it.

Before I know it, she’s standing beside me and the principal’s talking again. He’s talking about us and how our fellow students have put together a package, something that we’re sure to enjoy.

It’s only when the sound of my voice comes over the PA system that I realize it’s not going to be at all what he’s expecting. In fact it’s going to be something way worse.

“She’s nobody, a ghost.”

“I can’t even get within ten feet of that retard without wanting to puke.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad for her; you should feel bad for me, having to hang out with that thing as long as I did.”

“Since when did high school become Kindergarten? They’re letting babies in now?”

“Go ahead man, push her. Ram right into her. She’d probably like it.”

“Everything would’ve been fine if her mom had just done the honorable thing and aborted her.”

Just when I think it can’t get any worse than hearing my own voice saying these things, all of it spliced together from what felt like years ago, the screen behind us lights up and as I turn, I see her texts sliding up the screen. All of the private things she said, believing I could be trusted with it.

At first, the messages look tame. Her telling me how much she misses me, the hearts and happy faces flooding by the way I’m expecting them to. It’s only when the last message makes its way onto the screen that something dies inside of me. It’s the text from the night I asked her to tell me how she felt and it’s up on the screen, blown up huge, for the entire world to see. Our most private moment exposed.

I’m going to be sick.

I’m afraid to look over at her. I don’t want to see how she feels written all over her face. If she’d been a wounded animal that day in the parking lot, she has to be a hell of a lot worse now. The show isn’t over though, now there are photos of us being filtered across the screen, my voice with the same repeated lines playing over every single one of them.

There are pictures of us together, when we were happy and then single shots, but the worst one is again kept until the very end, probably because it would be the one to have the most impact. It’s a candid shot of the two of us as we’re exiting the bathroom, the day Amy and Charlotte burned her, tearing her apart inside and out. The pants she’s holding in her hands are noticeably stained, and you can tell by the mess in her hair just how hard everything had been on her.

I remember every single thing that happened that day and not once do I remember pictures being taken. It’s obvious by the way I’m ushering her out, I was completely focused on the task and not on making sure we weren’t being followed. It’s just another way I let her down. I should have known that this was gonna happen.

And I knew just who’s to blame for all of it.

Dillon Murphy.

I was right all along. He hadn’t changed the way Isabelle thought. He was still the same damn snake he’s always been. The difference is, this time; he’d played his part so well even I didn’t see through it. He not only screwed with her, but me too.