CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jeff Finch approached her the following Monday at her locker. She'd been avoiding him for days now...she'd been seeing him in the halls and at lunch, looking at her with bug-eyes, and she'd seen him so often she wondered if he was following her. He sauntered up the hallway, stopped when his eyes settled on Meg, and squinted as though to make sure he was really seeing whom he thought he was seeing. Then when he saw that her eyes were focused back on him, he gave a friendly wave. Feeling guilty, Meg politely waved back.
He stopped just inches from where here locker door was swung wide open. "Meg, I finally caught you," he said once he'd stopped, his hair still wet from his morning shower. Meg didn't really want to talk to him, but she knew she couldn't get out of a conversation. She'd been crying and moping around the house all weekend, trying to get the thought of Mark out of her mind. Her eyes were still swollen and sore and itchy, and she didn't really want anyone to see her looking like this, as though she'd had a whopper of an allergic reaction. She was tired and irritable, but it wasn't her nature to be cross with people.
"It's good to see you, Jeff. How are you?"
He was short for a boy but still towered over Meg. He tilted his eyes downward to look at her through of layer of thick black lashes. "I'm fine. Karate's going great. I'm in the running for a black belt next week." He smiled broadly, obviously very proud of himself.
"Congratulations," she said, trying to sound like an enthusiastic cheerleader.
"I haven't seen you in a long time," he said, even though Meg knew it wasn't true. What he'd meant to say was that he hadn't talked to her. Every time he came around a corner, ambling in her direction, she'd walk purposefully in another, trying to look like she had somewhere to go. "The last time I saw you it was at Beth Hammon's party. How did everything work out?" He was looking at her with puppy-dog eyes. If he didn't have a crush on her, there was something wrong with his vision.
"Well, I had a drink and talked with a few people," she admitted. She wanted to avoid the topic of Mark with an extreme passion. "Then I went home early...around midnight. To tell you the truth, it wasn't the best thing I could have done with a Saturday night."
"I thought about it," he said, "and I probably shouldn't have left you alone out there, without bringing you home. I was your date, and I basically ditched you."
"No, it's alright," Meg said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I got a ride. You didn't want to be around the drinking, and maybe I shouldn't have been around it, either." She recalled her first throbbing hangover with disgusted recollection. "Drugs aren't all they're cracked up to be, you know."
He nodded his head in agreement. "So does this mean you still want to hang out with me?" he asked, his expression eager and hopeful.
Oh, what the hell? He was a nice young man...courteous, gentle-spirited, athletic (she liked athletic boys) and he seemed to really like her. Other than the slight possibility that he was an amateur stalker, he was basically a really good guy. So what if she was used goods now? Mark had approached her suddenly, in the middle of the night, and ravaged her with what had seemed like fiery passion to an inexperienced fifteen-year-old girl. Of course, she had nothing to compare it to, but so what? Not even in her wildest pubescent fantasies before that night did she ever imagine a chemistry as electric, as sizzling as what she'd thought they'd shared. But then Mark, almost as soon as he'd picked her up, had dropped her back down to the floor with little explanation except for "you're too good for me." Part of her wanted to dismiss the whole thing as Mark's usual style, but her heart just wouldn't let her believe that Mark was the type of person who used women and then tossed them aside when he didn't need them anymore.
She wondered if Jeff Finch would be as eager to hang out with her if he knew what had taken place between Mark and Meg the week following the party. But there was nothing to say that she had to tell him, or anyone. Amanda knew, but then again, Amanda was a trusted friend, unique to most anyone that Meg had ever met.
She thoughtfully regarded his last question, and answered weakly, "Of course I'd still like to hang out with you," again, feigning enthusiasm. Not a stalker, she told herself. More like a lovesick teenager who's been avoided for the past week and a half.
"I've got a car now," he said. "This weekend I celebrated my sixteenth birthday. My parents helped me buy a used Toyota, and it runs great. Would you like to go for a spin with me sometime? I can take you home, or we can go out for ice cream after school..."
Meg smiled. "I'd like that." A sickening knot in her stomach told her, taunted her that she should have stayed with Jeff, her safest and best bet, in the first place.
He smiled broadly and said, "Great. I'll give you a call sometime. Do you still have my number?"
She did, but it was hidden underneath a pile of dirty clothes in a corner of her bedroom, neglected as though she'd never call him again. "I do."
He tilted his head like a smitten Cocker Spaniel and saluted. She smiled up at him as he turned on his heels and sauntered away just as casually as he had walked up to her, hiking up his bag more comfortably onto his back.
It was October, and cold, biting winds were beginning to blow in from the west, rattling the already baring trees and causing their coloring leaves to drift slowly to the ground. Deciduous trees including oaks and spruces were beginning to wield a spectrum of colors, ranging between shades of green, yellow, orange, red, and brown.
Meg shivered as she pulled her windbreaker closer to her body as she looked down at the little stream in back of her house. It was a tiny stream, but despite its small size was a tributary to a larger river about a half a mile to the east. It was the place where Mark had found her and quietly placed a finger to her sensitive lips so that she wouldn't cry out in surprise. She was sitting on the very same rock, again enjoying nature, again cold, and wanting Mark's company.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the sound of crunching feet approaching. "Meg?"
Meg turned and saw Amanda stepping over roots and stones in her direction, stumbling to get across. "Oh, hi!"
"Mind if I join you?"
Meg scooted over on the large boulder and brushed off the excess dirt to afford Amanda a place to sit. "Not at all."
Amanda sat down and followed the line of Meg's vision. "Not much to see, is it?"
Meg propped her chin up in her palms. "This is my special place. I used to play here all the time with my brother when he was alive."
"And Mark, too?"
"Yes." Another healthy breeze blew by, kicking up dead leaves and twirling them around in funnels. Both girls folded their arms around their bodies, defending themselves against the stiff chill.
Amanda had to raise her voice to be heard above the sound of wind scattering leaves. "How are you coping with things?"
She sighed, and studied the scuffed toes and frayed laces of her flimsy brown, leather boots. She would have to get them replaced, but she'd blown her allowance money lately on stacks of cd's. She shook her head. "There's something about this whole rejection thing I just can't seem to understand."
Amanda leaned back a little bit on her arms, and looked at Meg over her shoulder. "What? You're too beautiful?"
Meg laughed. "No...I mean, he barely said anything to me when he told me he wanted to cool it, but he gave me the impression that he'd never felt anything at all, that he'd only done anything with me because he felt indebted to me because of my brother."
"That's painful," remarked Amanda, who sounded genuinely sympathetic. "So what doesn't make sense?"
Meg blew warm breath into her chill hands, then rubbed them together briskly. "You said yourself you had a feeling he felt deeply for me, too...didn't you?"
Amanda lowered her gaze to her hand, and inspected a silver ring that she wore around her middle finger. "Well, yeah. But I could have been wrong. Listen, Meg, I'm the person to talk to when you want to know about rejection. I've been down that road and I know it like the back of my hand. My heart's been ripped out and hung on the school flagpole for everyone to see, and it's no laughing matter. One of the first reactions you have is denial."
Meg shook her head vehemently. "But this is different. Wouldn't I have known if he'd not felt anything at all for me?"
She brushed a tuft of Meg's hair behind her shoulder. "He probably feels deeply for you as a friend..."
Meg didn't want to admit that Amanda was probably right. "I guess so...but would he have reacted so strongly to me in the beginning if he didn't like me?" Amanda looked worried. "What's the matter?" Meg asked.
Amanda was looking down, playing with a red oak leaf. "Do you remember when I told you about that guy who rejected me and then spread all those rumors about me?"
Meg had a dim recollection about it. "Yeah. But what about it?"
She heaved a sigh. "We were at a school dance...the Halloween one, as a matter of fact, and I was head over heels in love with this boy who was in my Science class. He was tall, broad-shouldered, athletic, sharp-featured, and I thought he was the most gorgeous creature I'd ever laid eyes on in my entire life." She paused to cough. "I didn't have a boyfriend at the time, and as far as I knew, he didn't have a girlfriend."
"Sounds promising."
"I expressed to my friends at the time that if I were to make one wish in my entire life and that it would come true, I would want it to be that this boy would dance with me." Meg smiled at the story.
"What did they do about it?"
A wince of pain flashed across Amanda's freckled face. "I was a lot more shy and withdrawn back then, much like you are now, Meg, so it was amazing that I told them that," she said, in a breathy voice. "which also made it all that much more painful when they did what they did."
"What happened?"
Her eyes darkened. "They pulled me over, by force, and said right to his face that I was deeply and hopelessly in love with him."
"That must have been so embarrassing..."
"Actually, it wasn't," Amanda said. "What was painful was what happened as a result of that. He smiled his engaging smile, nodded at me and said he'd be honored to dance with me."
"Were his friends around?"
"Yes. They were all standing there, watching and listening. I must have had stars in my eyes. We went out to the dance floor, draped arms around each other for a slow song, and I felt as though I were in a dream. I went home that night walking on clouds of bliss." She paused for a moment, wrapping her wool jacket around her neck.
"What happened next?"
She studied her fingernails. "The next Monday morning, when I walked into school, everyone was whispering and pointing at me. I didn't know what was going on, so I asked one of my girlfriends what they were saying. She said that the boy I'd danced with told everyone he knew that he'd only danced with me because he felt sorry for me. Not only that, but he'd given a whole slew of other bad adjectives and names for me, as well. Apparently, seventh graders thought it was devilishly funny and highly entertaining. That's how the spread of rumors got started."
Meg lifted her brows. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but was this guy a 'popular kid'?"
Understanding lit Amanda's face like a lightbulb going off. "Yup. And I think it's someone you know...Mark's friend, Dan Redwood."
Meg widened her eyes. "Did Mark have anything to do with the rumors?"
Amanda sat up straighter. "Actually, no. In fact, I think he was the only one who seemed disinterested by the whole thing."
"I can't believe it," Meg said, staring down at the water. "Have you thought about confronting Dan and his friends?"
"How could I?" Amanda said, forcing a laugh. "They're popular, and I'm not. I think they would just laugh at me if I tried to say anything to them."
Meg remembered what Beth had said about her when she'd invited her to her party. "Still...I think it's cruel of them. They should be held accountable for what they did to you in some way."
"Like how?"
"Ask them why they did it. Who knows, maybe you'll get an answer. Are you still in love with him?"
Amanda grew quiet. "Yes." Her answer surprised Meg. "But we live in two different worlds; he's a star football player, and I'm a cheerleader who got lucky because a couple of girls got kicked off the squad. To him and his friends, I'm nobody. I'm not like them." She took in a deep breath, and suddenly seemed to remember the topic. "But what I guess I'm trying to say, is that sometimes in life, you get rejected. And Meg, there may be nothing you can do to change the person's mind."
Meg looked down and started to pick at the leaf that Amanda had been playing with. "Maybe I thought," she said, "that since we shared a tragedy in our past, that we were destined to be together."
Amanda looked at her sympathetically and said, "A broken heart is never easy..."
Meg first saw Mark again the very next day. He was sitting in the bleachers on the football field, looking lonely and sad, during the last half of cheerleading practice. The bandages that had been around his head were now off, showing slightly noticeably scars on either side of his forehead.
When she saw Beth go up to him after practice, she figured he'd come to see her. Perhaps he'd figured he wanted to be with her after all, after coming to terms with how he really felt.
But when he lifted his arm, motioning for Meg to join him, she found herself growing weak in the knees with nerves. She plodded towards him, squinting in the afternoon sun. They did not greet each other. She took a seat beside him, and noticed how calm he seemed-- different than the ever-annoyed Mark she had come to know.
"It's nice to know you're back," she commented, and lifted her eyes to him. She wanted to approach him gingerly, not knowing exactly how to treat a person who'd just been in a psychiatric hospital for trying to kill himself.
"I got back a couple of days ago," he said, nonchalantly.
"Are you here to see Beth?" she asked, trying to hide the jealousy in her voice. Yes, it was still there, gnawing at her insides like a stomach full of parasites.
He glanced at the blonde cheerleader who was disappearing into the gymnasium. "No, Meg. I came to see you."
Meg fiddled with the pom poms in her lap, feeling a blush come to her face. Why are you blushing? He doesn't want you, Goddammit! She watched the rest of the squad retreat into the gymnasium on their way to the girls' locker room and said, "Didn't your therapists tell you never to speak to me again?"
He laughed. "If they'd have told me that I would have told them to go to hell," he said, cradling his fist.
Meg's heart warmed. "I'm glad you're back." They fell into silence, and Mark grabbed one of Meg's pom poms and tossed it in the air.
"What made you decide to become a cheerleader?" he asked.
She smiled at him. "It's like dance, and I've had a lot of dance training. I wanted a way to get some exercise, and my parents wanted me to have an extra-cirricular activity."
"I see." He gave her a sideways glance. "Doesn't it have anything to do with popularity?"
She snatched the pom pom back. "Of course not."She held them both firmly underneath her arms. "I wouldn't think of caring about things like popularity." He nodded his head amusedly. "What, you don't think I'm telling the truth?"
He smiled. "Are you?"
She smiled and gave him a nod. "Yes." Annoyed, she switched the subject. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.
"Well, I've got some nasty scars and I have this horrible medicine to take now, but other than that I'm alright."
"What do they have you taking?"
"Lithium. It's an old remedy for bipolar."
"Do you think that's what you have?"
He gave a thoughtful nod. "Could be. But with all the drugs, who knows."
"You're not very aware of your own emotions, are you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No."
"Can I see you again?"
"Meg--"
"I know. You don't want to see me anymore, like that. What you said was brief, but clear. You just don't feel that way about me." He just got out of the hospital. You should be more sensitive.
He ran a hand over his chin. "I wish I could explain it more. I'm at a loss for explanations, most times."
Meg looked sadly at him. There's something he's not telling me. There's something missing here...
He looked up at her with a soulful expression in his eyes. "Do you hate me, Meg?"
She spoke the first words that came into her head. "I think you're being a coward. You're not facing the issue, you're running from it, from me. Just like you've done with virtually every aspect of your life...the drugs, the women, the suicide attempt, and now the breakup. You're running the way you ran when Cory had that gun in his hands...this way, you know the person who gets hurt is yourself."