Listen to Your Heart

Goodbye, Scarlett.

Those were the exact words that kept repeating over and over again in my mind as I stood in the grass lawn of the crowded church a few years later. My blue eyes were rimmed with tears; wide and staring directly at the two girls making their way into the sanctuary through the large oak doors.

“It’s okay, Scar,” Asher said softly, and he gently placed a hand on my lower back, slowly guiding me to the concrete stairs. “Just ignore them.”

But it was nearly impossible to pull my eyes away. There they were. After so many years of ignoring me, of completely isolating me and shutting me out of their lives, after all of the harsh names and bullying they brought upon me, I was shocked to no end to actually see them here--at my mother’s funeral visitation. My mother’s illness had been the reason that Chloe and Daisy had dropped me from their circle in the first place. My mother’s cancer was the reason that I started high school as a loner, an outsider; a girl with absolutely no friends other than myself. Apparently, in their minds, I spent too much time worrying about my mother’s health, and too many nights at the hospital or home with little Rhiannon. I ditched them one too many times, and they eventually got sick of it. As selfish or childish as it was, they left me in the dust. And that was their reason: that I cared too much about my dying mother. So why were they here? That was the question that I desperately wanted an answer to, but I was too damn scared to open my mouth and ask.

“What are they doing here?” I asked softly, my voice cracking as a single tear formed in the corner of one of my sapphire blue eyes. “Why are they here, Ash?”

I felt Asher’s strong arms wrap around my tiny frame, pulling me close to his warm chest. My head instinctively fell into the silky black tie adorning his neck. His hands caressed me, his breath steady, and his heart beat in a neat rhythm, as he did his very best to comfort me. I let him embrace me, all of my emotions rising to the surface of my freezing, goose-flesh skin. “I don’t know, Scar,” he finally said, his voice quiet and reassuring, “I really don’t know.”

Enough is enough.

There it was again--that same voice, echoing in my wandering mind, eating at my heart as the realization of life as I knew it overwhelmed me entirely. All of those years ago, when Chloe and Daisy left me all alone, I hadn’t known exactly what to think. In the very beginning, I was scared. It was as if our friendship had never been real at all; almost as if I had spent that last few years of my life dreaming.

Maybe I hadn’t really met those two girls in the first place. Maybe I had never made friends until Asher came along. Maybe I had always been an unfortunately loser with only myself to confide in. Maybe I hadn’t ever really been living until just a few days ago, when I clutched onto my mother’s hand and sobbed--praying to God that she would stay awake for just a moment longer.

But then again, I had no reason to be mad at Daisy and Chloe any longer. They made their decision already. They chose to leave me behind and move on to better people. They left me all alone. Though if it weren’t for Daisy and Chloe ditching me those many years ago, I never would have met Asher; a true friend.

It had been the second week of my freshmen year. I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria, all by myself, as my former friends laughed along with the group of people whom I would grow to hate--Alaura Sylver, Anya Raice, and Cedar Straehan, the boy who would later cold-heartedly steal my virtue. I did my best not to notice them, not wanting to feel that ache in my heart at the sight of them having the time of their lives without me. So I kept my head bent low, my eyes focused solely on the crust of my sandwich as I pulled it off and shoved small pieces into my mouth.

“Is anyone sitting here?” Asher Blake was scrawny, even then, with an abnormally large head upon his narrow shoulders and thin frame. I knew who he was, his name and everything. When Chloe, Daisy, and I had been friends, we had spent numerous days teasing poor Asher for the thick-framed glasses that he wore even though he had 20/20 vision, and the way he tucked his bright colored polo shirts into his jeans.

But when he asked that simple question, a beautiful smile on his face as if I hadn’t been a bitch to him for all of those years in junior high and elementary school, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Just me,” I had said softly. And that right there, that one day in the cafeteria, as Asher sat beside me and immediately began talking to me as if we’d been friends forever, was the start of an unbelievable friendship.

If it weren’t for the fact that I had been isolated by my conniving ex-best friends, I never would have gained a real one; none other than Asher Ronan Blake.

So even as I glared at them, years later at my mother’s visitation, something deep inside of me told me that I shouldn’t give a care in the world. “Make them leave,” I said anyway. I hadn’t even known what I was going to say until the words spilled out of my mouth, bitter and full of pure hatred. I turned to Asher, my head falling into his chest and my hands clenching into tight fists. His large palms held me gently against him, and I silently started to cry.

Asher just shook his head, doing his best to soothe me. He had always been good at that; making the best out of the worst situations. And lately, in my life at least, Asher had been doing a lot of comforting. “I can’t do that, Scar,” he said softly, brushing strands of dark hair out of my translucent blue eyes, “but you know I would if I could. In an instant.”

He was right, and I knew that for a fact. One good thing about Asher being my best friend was that he was as honest as they got; truthful, loyal, trustworthy, and everything in between. He was a way better friend than Chloe and Daisy combined. He actually had the guts to stick with me through the hard times. He actually cared and showed respect for the loss of my mother. Unlike those two girls, wearing matching black dresses and strappy sandals, who smiled their way straight back into my life without my consent. I hadn’t seen them anywhere besides school in so long, nor had I spoke a word to them since the incident. And I didn’t plan on making that first approach just then.

I spotted my father, Krynna, and Rhiannon moments later, climbing out of the pretty white Cadillac that Krynna had brought with her when she moved all of her other glamorous things into our home. My father tugged uncomfortably at his neck-tie, a pained look on his face. He shoved his glasses up his nose, reaching down for one of Rhiannon’s small hands as she jumped out of the backseat, the skirt of her navy blue dress bouncing.

Krynna stood tall in her heels, her dark-framed sunglasses shielding her eyes from the warm sun. She waltzed around the front of the car in her excessively tight dress, her purse on her shoulder, and smiled as Rhiannon reached up with her free hand to grab hold of Krynna’s own.

Poor girl doesn’t even know who her real mother is, I thought to myself, and the reality of it almost put me to tears. But I couldn’t cry--not yet. The actual event hadn’t even started. It would cause to big of a scene if I walked in five minutes early with my face stained with tears. Of course though, it was almost expected of me. My mother and I had been painfully close, and seeing her go was one of the worst feelings that I had ever had to experience in all of my sixteen years of life. People most likely expected me to come into the sanctuary sobbing. Yet I guess it’s a good thing that most have learned to expect the unexpected.

“Go talk to your dad,” Asher whispered into my hair, his voice soft and quiet as he slowly pulled away from me. “I’ll be waiting inside with my parents.” I nodded lightly, watching him as he turned on his heels, flashing me a polite smile before shoving his hands into his pockets and making his way toward the open doors.

I sighed heavily, nervously reaching up to push strands of my dark hair out of my eyes. Just down the sidewalk, my family was approaching. Krynna and my father were in the midst of a conversation, their heads bent toward each other as Rhiannon walked innocently between them, the top of her head just a few inches shy of their waists. Krynna had taken her sunglasses off, tucking them into the side pocket of the large purse she had slung over a shoulder. From afar, the three of them looked like the picture-perfect family. The two parents: a strong, thoughtful father walking beside the gorgeous mother, as the cute-as-a-button five year old daughter laughed between them. It was as if I wasn’t even a part of their family, as if having me walk beside them would ruin it all, completely destroying the cookie cutter image that they previously displayed. Who needed the emotional wreck of a teenage daughter, anyway?

“Hey, honey,” my father forced a smile, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me into an awkward hug. Either he had completely forgot about our argument from earlier in the morning, from the way I rudely made an excuse for my late arrival, to the comment I had barked about Krynna not caring about me, or my father had decided not to discuss my punishment or changes I would need to be making in my attitude until later on. But I didn’t blame him.

Once at my feet, Rhiannon immediately pulled her hands free and began tugging on the black dress that I had borrowed from Krynna’s closet--her idea, not mine. “Sissy!” she cried, her toothless smile taking over nearly all of her face. Her electric blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. I laughed, reaching down and bringing her up into my arms.

“Hey, baby doll.” I kissed her cheek, loving the sudden warmth that her tiny body gave me as she wrapped her arms tight around my neck. Instantly, all of my previous worries washed away. I no longer had the urge to rip Chloe and Daisy straight out of the pews in the sanctuary. I no longer wanted to break down and cry for hours on end, until somehow, miraculously, my mother was alive again. I no longer felt as if I had nothing left to live for. I had Rhiannon, my precious baby sister, cradled in my arms. And nothing, not even the chance to relive through the better days, could have been quite as perfect as that.