Straighten Your Ties / Book 1

'Cause I got your picture
I'm coming with you
Dear Maria, count me in
There's a story at the bottom of this bottle
And I'm the pen
-All Time Low – Dear Maria, Count Me In

I think it’s about time that everyone knew the real story behind what happened with Becca and I. I’m thinking of actually writing this down because I had a very boring day, and I need something to write. So as a present from my boredness to yours, I’m going to do a tell-all thing here. Hope you have fun reading it. I most certainly… won’t while writing it.

I met Becca very randomly it seems. It was right before seventh grade ended, and the Seguin dance was on one of the last weekends of that year. I met her there. She wasn’t dancing. Neither was I. We sat in the hallways and just talked for a while. She wasn’t particularly extraordinary, and neither was I. So that worked for the time being. We liked the same bands, we joked about the same things, and we were both single after all. We didn’t start dating that night exactly, but there was finally this first mutual attraction. We could tell. Her brown flowing hair that curled up just slightly at the tips, her smile that obviously needed braces, but as did mine. People will say that you’re always made for someone and that someone is made for you as well, and while I thought that at the time, I realize it was all crap. You’ll see why.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Rebecca, she had asked me just to call her Becca, so I did for her sake. I liked her. A lot. I had stayed away from most girls since January that year. I figured most girls were stuck-up bitches who weren’t worth my time. Becca finally was, so I figured “why not?” She was pretty, seemed into me, and I was all giddy and happy that school was almost over. Kids, I must tell you though, never ask someone out on MSN or any other instant messaging service. Do so by phone or in person, or else, you are doomed to fail just as this relationship was. So I asked her out on MSN, sadly. We weren’t boyfriend girlfriend material at the time. I just wanted to know if she wanted to hang out. She said yes. And we saw each other the next day. We were friends. I kinda liked it that way. We walked around Westmount, as she lived in Westmount like me, and so it was easy to get together at the time. It was now Sunday. The dance had been on Friday. It was that quick. But we just walked and talked. No holding hands, even though I wanted to. I wanted to move fast. Not in the sense of having a rebound relationship, because I wasn’t coming out of anything at the time. There was affection for her. It wasn’t just some lust in my mind. I genuinely liked the girl. We could talk about anything. But school was always a main subject.

“So you go to Seguin,” she said looking down at the sidewalk that was darkened by the shade of the trees, “I go to the Scholar. How do they differ?”
“You tell me…” How would I know?
“Well, for one thing, we wear kilts.”
“We tried convincing our headmaster to add them to the uniform. He wasn’t too into the idea.” I smirked.
Becca laughed, “That’d be rather sexy, don’t you think?”
“I dunno. Much of a draft there you know?”
“Oh yes, but sooooo many of us girls would go for that.” She rolled her eyes. We kept going with the joke though.
“That’s right! You girls have all turned into lesbians because you’ve been deprived of testosterone, right?”

She smiled, “Sorry… But it’s true!” She shook her head. “What else differs though?”
“From what I’ve heard, you get a lot more work than us.”
“Do you have homework every night?” She kept looking at her sneakers, shuffling them forward as I kept pace with her, inching closer every step.

“Not exactly… I mean, it differs. We might get that one week where there’s not much at all, but then the next week it’s overkill! I mean, real overkill, like several huge assignments are due. And it sucks balls.”

“We don’t go a night without homework.” She sighed, obviously angered by her parents’ choice to send her to the second form of hell that was the Scholarship School. “I always need to find some kind of distraction.”

Can I be yours? I wondered.
“And I know I shouldn’t, but even if I do, I manage my eighties and all. Never any nineties unless I’m lucky.” She was still shuffling her feet towards me.
“Me neither.” I concurred. “Usually mid-eighties, high seventies and a few rare nineties. And I never study for tests.”

“What French class?” She asked.
“Maternelle,” Highest class of French meaning mother tongue, “It was sort of a screw-up too. I suck at French, except my writing is pretty good, and I had high grades in elementary because it was stupid French where the teacher did like nothing and just had this favoritism for me or something. Or it was the fact that everyone else sucked and I was the only good Anglophone in my graduating class.” I shrugged. “I hate French. Period.”
She held her hand out, wrapping hers in mine. A shiver ran down my spine. “As do I.” She smiled brightly. As did I.

***

We went as far as holding hands that day, but there was obviously something more to it all. I liked it and hated it at the same time. I wanted a relationship, but I could see us being really good friends, and I didn’t want to ruin that either. It’d be stupidity to do so. Anthony had always warned me about that anytime I was into some girl that was a good friend of mine.
“It’s not like you’re not allowed to like [person in question] or anything,” He’d say defensively, “but I just don’t think you want to ruin anything here. See where things go. But don’t try and take them way too far or anything. Eventually that feeling might die. Commit suicide. See if it does. You can’t control who you like though.”

I saw his point. But then I thought: Becca was just a girl I met like anyone would meet and all, so she technically wasn’t a good friend yet, just a girl I knew. I mean, after that day of just walking around, there was obviously something there, and we both knew it. So why deny it and say nothing ever happened? Working against your mind is not always the best idea in past experiences. I instead decided to work with my mind. I waited down the street from the Scholar the next day. Gym had been cancelled. It had worked out well in my books. I texted her… I just realized I barely texted back then, and told her to come down the boulevard. I had some time to walk around. I hoped she did too.

She came strolling down the street in her scholar uniform, tie loosened down to the usual level that most girls loosened it to (You know what I mean, right?) and her top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned. Kilt looking somehow sexy on her. I don’t know. Back then I thought girls’ uniforms were the hottest things ever. I accept that they aren’t now. I much prefer free dress days.
“Hi!” She said when she was a few meters away.

“Hey,” I said back, strolling towards her to give her a hug.
“I’m glad you text’d.” She smiled, “I didn’t exactly want to hang around with Lisa and Noelle today for some reason…” She was with the in crowd, but liked me instead. That got me going. I could go out with someone who was popular… Wait… OK… I am still confused on whether we were actually dating at all. Fucked up as most things are, this should’ve been simple, yet we weren’t really at the time. But we were friends.

Maybe because you wanted to hang with me? I asked her, hoping she’d hear me telepathically or something.
“Well, what would you like to do?” I asked, not insisting on anything. I wanted to do whatever with her. But I was also planning on somehow making my move today. Maybe I was thinking wrong, but I really wanted to.

“I strangely want to run down Murray Hill right now.” Murray Hill was simply just a park a block from Seguin. All slanted on a hill. Great place to hang out on the last few days of school and smell the marijuana being burned. I didn’t mind though. This was my… well, hopefully soon to be, girlfriend, here. She’s what mattered. So I had no problem with being the home away from home, or whatever she wanted me to be. I didn’t have much of an ego.

We walked down The Boulevard and transferred down to Westmount Avenue soon after a few blocks on the busy street. We held hands. It seemed petty and stupid. We hadn’t even declared ourselves as going out or anything yet, but we were already holding hands after just meeting it seemed. Her hair flowed in the breeze, as I watched intently, attracted to the way it just moved and was pushed back into place when the calm came. Naturally, and not with her freshly polished, but already chipped nails. It would always be placed right over her left eye, just slightly covering it at times. It was nothing incredible to anyone except me. I get very observant when I’m into someone. I like watching them, seeing how they act. I’m like that with anyone. I like to stare. I know it’s rude. So I only really stare at my friends. They’ll eventually look at me, and I’ll glance away like, I was looking at the ground beneath my feet, or something. Something not interesting. Because I found a lot of people incredibly intriguing. Especially Becca at the time.

I stood with her, our backs facing the tennis courts at the middle of the peak, looking down at the big slanted lawn of grass ahead of us.
“Running?” I turned to her.

She looked back, “Gets the stress of The Scholar out…”
“I suppose you’re right… but tiring, no?”
“Don’t tell me Derrick doesn’t like a good run once in a while…” Truthfully, I did like it. I couldn’t resist, so I started off running down the hill, soon feeling out of control like I was going to run onto the street below the hill.

Becca followed suit right behind me, as I looked back. She had to manage her kilt from not flipping up, flashing her boxers (no sensible girl ever wears real underwear in Westmount and its private school community, obviously), which while revealing, is not exactly appealing to all girls. I nearly tripped on a lone rock that was somehow in the grass from watching her. I looked forward, seeing that I was coming up on the end of the hill. I slowed by minimizing my strides, and knowing that Becca wasn’t far behind, I didn’t mind leaving the stress-free run and the perfection that it was (disregarding the near-trip).

Becca came racing towards me, her arms outstretched, and I realized why. I spread mine out too. She leaped into my arms, and I did my best to swing her around while carrying her light self that was still a burden to my non-physically fit body. I nearly fell over with the force of her impacting, but I laughed and so did she. I let her down and took her hand. Luckily for us, the park was mostly deserted, and the bench underneath the trees midway up the slant carried no people on them. I lead her to them and offered her a seat by waving my hands. She smiled and sat while I followed.

“It was fun, no?” She asked.
“You’re right,” I agreed, “Very stress relieving. I loved it.”
“Can’t be done in excess though, Derry.” I half-cringed at the last word. It seemed odd to use. Lovey dovey. A little too lovey dovey.

“Why’s that?” I hoped she didn’t notice the slight cringe and all.
“It just doesn’t work if you do it that much. I realized it last summer when I was all worried about the new grade and it being high school, and the new people who were coming in. I don’t know… It stressed me somehow, and running helped, but only once or twice, then it died. I didn’t get the exact feeling anymore and I grew out of it. I haven’t done that for a long time. It’s nice to run… once in a while.” She seemed to be concentrating on the memories of last summer as she looked to her right at the hilltop. I attempted to focus with her. It worked until she came out of her concentration and I woke up from the daydream she had imposed on me.
“What relieves your stress, other than that?” She looked into my eyes. I could feel her gaze boring into me, rather deeply. I liked it.

“Talking.” I said simply, wishing it were something else more complicated or cool like her hill and running.
She nodded though, not angered or disappointed or anything, “Always works too.” She kept on looking at me, smiling. “More reliable than my method.”
“Your method is great too, no worries.”
“Thanks,” And she just kept smiling…

I couldn’t exactly keep it in much longer, even knowing that we both knew what I wanted and she wanted to say. “I really like you, Becca.” I smiled back for once. I didn’t smile often.
She held my hand, “I really like you too, Derrick.” Her grip softened. So did mine. She did. This was… crazy. I was ridiculed my whole life, and I could now finally be myself and be liked. But not just liked in the way that some of my guy friends liked me, but extremely liked by a really cool girl like Becca.

If you’re expecting some kind of kiss here… yeah, for once it happened. The whole Hollywood romance idea always somehow works in a way at first. My first open-mouth kiss was with Becca. I may slightly regret it now, but I look back on it as a good moment in my life. I now imagine Death Cab For Cutie’s Bixby Canyon Bridge playing in the background when I play the scene out in my head. I wasn’t expecting it. There was finally a reason I could like Monday though. I hoped others who hated Monday envied me. I hoped that I had something to boast about. For once, I liked someone. And they liked me back.

The months slipped away. I was content. I had a girlfriend, who perhaps I was moving too fast with. We were young. Things moved fast at all times. Including the summer. I didn’t mind. She didn’t seem to either. I was doing whatever Becca wanted to do though. I didn’t really suggest anything. As I said before, I was dragged around by her. I didn’t ask her to do anything for fear of screwing things up. We went running once or twice. Ice cream. A movie or two when my parents were fine with driving me downtown. It was August before I knew it, and we were at the peak of our relationship it seems. She went away for camp though. I told her I’d miss her, having nothing to do over the lengthy two weeks of nothing that encased the idea of her being away. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it.

I caught up on my summer reading while she was gone, knowing I might not fulfill it if I didn’t get started soon.

She came back by the time I was done with my books. She seemed happy to see me, but something was slightly different. It just wasn’t there. It was missing. I didn’t know what it was at the time at all. It took me a bit to figure all out. I was young and naïve. I couldn’t see it.
There was no longing. There was no anything. She called less, she was wanting to see me less. Soon we just drifted. I said I was busy. I thought she needed space. I needed some too. I walked around Murray Hill one day. And while everything was the way it was, I couldn’t help but notice her there in the park, at our bench. I stood atop the hill, looking down, peering at her. With him. I don’t even want to describe him. From afar I could see he was everything I wasn’t. Hot. He had sex appeal. And halfway into observing them, they kissed. I ran back home. This was fucked up.

***

I needed to talk to her. I told her to meet me in Westmount Park, not wanting to face Murray Hill at the moment. I wanted to talk to Becca to work things out. Maybe everything wasn’t exactly as it seemed. I was overreacting. Maybe it was a stress tactic or something. I could’ve been wrong, so I hoped for the best.
“You saw, didn’t you?” I was facing away from her sitting in the fountain area that would soon cease to work as the fall came. I sighed.
“Yeah…” I said quietly.
“I can call it off. I can never see him again.”
“I don’t want that.” I somehow convinced myself I didn’t. Words were stuck in my throat. I wanted to work things out. But my mouth was malfunctioning. I still looked straight ahead. I hated what I just said. I was calling it off.
“Then, that’s it?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t hurt him.” I hadn’t been shattered this hard for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Derrick.” And she walked away. I wanted so much more from her. I really did. I called it off. I don’t know why. I was a terrible boyfriend. I felt somehow that things couldn’t go back to the usual scheme. I don’t know why. It just seemed like nothing she or I could do was going to work. She had kissed another guy while she was still with me. And it showed that she maybe did still want me, but she was torn.

I looked on the good side of it all. I wasn’t going to dragged around. I was young. It was just some fling. Probably nothing more. I never did I say “I love you” even if I wanted to. This was practice. I could move on. It was easy to. Even if things weren’t alright with us, I somehow didn’t want things to be fine. We should’ve never met, right? We can drift apart and be clueless. Be it that we aren’t friends or not. I was fine with it all.

Why was I not OK with talking about it till now? It just seemed personal and stupid. It was a huge mistake that I made letting her ago, and I know I can’t regain her easily or in a matter of time. I don’t know if I ever will. The happy ending with her won’t ever work. So I’m just going to keep moving. Hoping I find something better. And maybe someday, Becca and I could be more than just enemies. Friends would do, I suppose. Whatever she wanted.

I’m still not sure if I ever told her that I loved her. Loved her. I didn’t feel the same connection. Maybe the four letter word slipped out somewhere along in the relationship game. But it didn’t mean anything. For one thing, I love my friends. Hell, I love Greg and Seth and Ramzey and Jason, etc. Becca, well, I loved her. But I’m not sure if it was friend love or something more. I kissed her. But did I love her? Did it mean anything? It meant a lot at the time, but I never really gave it much thought till the fall. I realized that it somehow wasn’t love. You don’t kiss someone who you don’t love wholly and entirely, unless it’s some stupid game of truth or dare, or you’re wasted for that matter. I lied to her in a way. I told her, by that kiss, that I loved her. Maybe. More than anything, I probably just wanted her as a friend, and I was just after the first girl I could set my sights on. It wasn’t romantically healthy at all. And sure, she cheated on me, but with good reason. And I left it. With good reason. I was just blinded by some fake emotion at the time. Love doesn’t exist in the seventh grade. It’s all a game.

As things were becoming better and better with Lexy, I decided I needed to talk to Becca. I didn’t warn her or anything, knowing she’d just be angered and ignore me. I had heard that she was still mad about my decision to call it quits. She even called it off with her camp friend days later, maybe hoping that I would come back or something. It took me an entire two years to face her. To come back. She took a few days to fix a mistake. It was pathetic. I should’ve done something sooner, but I was just so busy. That’s my excuse for everything: busyness. I was just too much of a wimp to be perfectly honest.

By the ninth grade, and now nearing the end of it, I felt as if there was something unresolved that desperately needed fixing for both our sakes. Maybe even Lexy’s. For our own relationship. I waited outside The Scholar in mid-May, wondering if she’d come out today or if I’d have to come back some other time. I stayed across the street, not wanting to be seen by everyone.

She came outside at the usual time, and started walking west down The Boulevard towards her house. I crossed the block to catch up with her. I was expecting the worst this time.
“Becca!” I yelled after her. She turned and frowned at my face and figure, (which was the same since two years ago, just heightened) almost glaring. I caught up with her. “Hi… ummm…” I stammered for words.
“Hi,” She said softly. Looking towards the lawn of the house beside us.
“How have you been?” I didn’t try and meet her gaze, and stared at the street instead.
“Fine. I’m fine. How about you?” She kept looking towards the lawn.
“Good.” Nodding. “I just thought I really needed to talk to you.”
“Took you long enough…” She smiled weakly.

“I know. I know. I should’ve… listen, I just realize that maybe things can’t go back to that ever. I’m not always a forgiving person. And you shouldn’t be…” Pause. “Forgiving me. I made the wrong choice. There’s no way to take that back and all. I’m sorry. You did something wrong but… I should’ve tried to fix things. I didn’t take that chance. My personality is flawed and all. I’m very far from perfection. And you deserve better than me.” I was now holding back tears for some ludicrous feeling. I wished I hadn’t hurt her back years ago. “And even doing this is wrong. It shows that I’m the bad person here… being this late or something… maybe this isn’t making sense. But listen, I’ve moved on. You probably have. I’m not asking to be friends. I don’t think I want to be. I don’t think you want to be either. I’m not sure if we can as much as I wish things could be like that.” I breathed out heavily. “But thank you. I’ve realized my mistakes. I guess you have too. I want you to be happy. And that means that I’m over you. It took me a year or two and all, but I am. It wasn’t quick for some idiotic reason. I’ve become a better person thanks to you.” This speech really was two years late. “So, really… Thank you.”
“Derrick…” She trailed, thinking, finally looking up from the green lawn, meeting my gaze as it rose from the street’s asphalt. “I think you’re right. And don’t worry about being late saying this or anything. I’m fine. You’re good. We’re good. Whether we can be friends again is up to you. Take your time. You’re a great guy, Der. I didn’t see that. I was idiotic. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. Thanks, though… I appreciate it.”

“Someday… Maybe…” And I walked away. I wished every relationship ended that way. Admitting we were both wrong, knowing our mistakes, and taking space. I wished that we had remained friends in the first place. It was stupid to think that someone who could be worth so much more as a friend than a girlfriend could work out. It was my first relationship, and it got messed up. It all got fucked up. Things get fucked up. I like thinking back to that Sunday when we were just friends and nothing more. I wish things were still like that. I wish I had never made any move. I was stupid to think I could have a serious kind of relationship in the first year of high school. Wasn’t a friendship enough?

Never fuck up a friendship unless you know for certain it will work as a relationship. Otherwise, you just lose more than you bargained for.