Apples to Ashes

To this day, I hardly give Kenley the credit she deserves; she’s a lot sharper than I think. Although my cheeks had lost their love-struck flush and my eyes had lost their dreaminess by the time I saw her during math, she caught on without missing a beat.

We had a substitute that day, and Ken felt free to nudge and interrogate me at her will. While Mr. Garrett, the sub, sat at “his” desk and read a mystery novel, Ken leaned over and whispered, “So, who’s the guy?”

“I’m sorry...what?” I said, trying not to seem flustered. “What are you talking about?”

“The lucky guy who’s proven himself worthy of you,” she said with a playful smile. “Tell me all about him.”

My heart skipped a beat and my palms became damp with nervous sweat. Had I been found out already? Was my daring venture in love over before it began? I feared the worst, as was my custom, and tried to hide my fear with a nervous laugh. “Ken, you know I’m not supposed to have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want one.” The remark was simple and innocent, but true. It was true, and it shouldn’t have been, but it was. It caught me off guard.

“Well—that’s not—it’s...Ken, just do your work,” I stammered. I turned away from her so she wouldn’t see me blush.

“Ah, there is someone! I knew it!” she squealed. The sub looked up from his riveting story to tell her to settle down, and she begrudgingly obliged. She promptly opened her notebook and scribbled a message which she excitedly tore out and handed to me. It read: What’s his name?

I seriously contemplated telling her about Jacob—I really did. I thought that, just maybe, it could be nice to share this exciting and terrifying experience with someone. Ken would probably give me all kinds of advice, and she’d share my victories and fears. Then my senses returned. I hastily wrote back: There’s no one, you’re just being paranoid. PS, my mom says I can’t go to your house this weekend.

The latter part of the message seemed to distract her, thankfully, and I went on to tell her about my argument with my mom. She didn’t ask for details; she just read the note and patted my shoulder sympathetically. For a borderline drama queen, Ken was a pretty good listener—when she wanted to be. I knew Ken, though, and I knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she got her hands on the truth. Problem was, I was doing everything in my power to keep it from her.

Soon, the lunch bell rang. As was our norm, Ken and I said our “See you laters” and split at the door: she went to the lunch line and I went to the restroom.

I stood in the same spot in front of the same mirror in the dimly lit restroom down the hall from my math class as I normally did, not because it was a habit or a routine, but because all the other mirrors were so badly scratched from illegible graffiti that I couldn’t see my reflection anywhere else. I was freshening up when a small mob of excited chatter and sympathetic moans entered my dirty, tiled haven which had been so still and quiet just seconds before. I cringed slightly as the door squeaked and banged as it opened and closed behind the four girls who had so suddenly disturbed my peace. I tried my best to ignore them, but I couldn’t help noticing that one of them, the shortest and most petite of the bunch, seemed genuinely upset. In the yellowed glow of the ancient fluorescent lighting, I could make out her drained complexion and her bloodshot eyes surrounded by smudged black makeup. She sniffled and hiccupped while her friends tried their best to console her.

“I c-can’t believe that I f-fell for his tricks,” she said. “Everyone kn-knows that he’s a player, but I thought that I was d-d-different. I thought,” she paused to suppress a sob, “that he really c-cared about me.”

“Caitlyn, don’t get so down on yourself,” a freckled friend with watery green eyes cooed. “So many girls have felt that way about Jacob, but it’s not their fault, it’s his.”

During the course of their conversation I’d continued to freshen up, although the need was long gone. When I heard his name, though, I froze. I froze, only for a second, but in that second I felt dizzy and faint. I pulled myself together. There had to be at least a few dozen Jacobs at Grand Heights alone. How did I know this player who shared the name of my infatuation even went to this school? I went on with my act, applying a dab of lip gloss here, a swipe of blush there.

“Yeah,” echoed a second friend. “He’s just a player, a smooth-talker. Jacob Gripp is not worth crying over.” She said this with such certainty and confidence that for a second I believed it, and I thought Caitlyn would, too. But the heavy silence that followed signaled that the opposite was true.

Caitlyn narrowed her veiny eyes at her bold friend whose own eyes now contained a semblance of fear. Caitlyn wasn’t sniffling and hiccupping anymore.

“How could you say that, after everything I went through with him? You know how he made me feel, how he was always there for me when you weren’t. After all that, you’re going to stand there and tell me he’s not worth crying over?”

“You were with him for two months!” the friend exclaimed incredulously. “I’ve been your friend for two years. I think I know what’s good for you by now. He never deserved you!”

Caitlyn scoffed. So disgusted was she by her friend’s outrageous statement that she turned around and left her behind. The door squeaked and banged once more, but this time only three bodies passed through its frame, and the fourth seemed to be in a state of shock over her abrupt abandonment. She scoffed and shook her head, and shook her head and scoffed, and then fanned her face to prevent her eyes from welling over with flustered tears. She must have seen me then, because she did a double take and then smiled awkwardly when my eyes met hers.

“Um...are you all right?” I asked, uncertain of how to deal with such a predicament. Should I pretend I hadn’t heard anything? Should I console her? Should I leave her alone and get on with my life? The girl on the other side of this dilemma answered my questions for me.

“You must’ve heard all that, huh?” She forced a small laugh and, hesitating ever-so-slightly, she approached me and extended her hand. “I’m Grace, by the way.”

Finally the bold friend, the outcast had a name, and since she was was so open and friendly, I decided it couldn’t hurt to talk to her. I introduced myself and offered her to come sit with me at lunch, since it seemed she was deprived of company at the moment.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she politely declined. “I’m not really hungry—I think I’ll just stay in here.”

I was secretly relieved, because there wasn’t really any room at my lunch table and because I didn’t want to get involved with anyone who might have some connection to a player who might be the Jacob I’d been dreaming about, and because I just wasn’t good with people. “All right, well I guess I’ll see you around, then,” I said. I made a break for the door, but Grace stopped me. She didn’t exactly throw herself in front of the doorway, but she quickly said, “So do you know Jacob?”

I turned away from the door and had a pretty strong feeling that Ken and Jasmine were going to have to wait a little longer than usual for me to join them. “Um, I can’t say that I do. I know a Jacob but...I don’t know his last name. This guy, you said his last name was...?”

“Gripp,” Grace said. “Gripp, with two p’s; Gripp as in what girls lose when they’re with him. I think it’s Brazilian,” she joked. “He’s a real snake, but so was Lucifer and look what he got away with. See, his type is sneaky, suave, charming. He pulls girls in with his humor, he melts them with his smile, and before they know what’s going on—“she clamped her hands together. I jumped. “—he traps them like a gnat in a Venus flytrap. Within a few weeks, he’s got them wrapped around his baby finger. Oh!” She shook her head, “I can’t tell you how many girls have lost their mind over him. It’s a shame.”

I shivered at the thought of this snake being Jacob—my Jacob. This Jacob Gripp had to be some sort of jock to be such a manipulator, such a womanizer. He couldn’t be the Jacob with the perplexing eyes, the cute dimples, and the lean build; he couldn’t be the Jacob that made stupid jokes and lost his breath to catch up with me on the stairs. No, no, I was absolutely certain these two Jacobs were entirely different beings because the Jacob I knew was worth risking everything for.

I told Grace my friends were probably wondering where I was and excused myself before she could say good bye. I walked down the hallway in a daze. Not my Jacob, not my Jacob.