Unwritten Pages

“Andrew Campbell! You get down here at once!” My father is shouting from the living room. Even with the door closed, I can still hear his booming voice.

I groan and get out from the bed. What do they want? Don't they know that I'm thinking about what to say for Winter's funeral?

I think about half-an-hour earlier, when I was playing the music. I narrow my eyes. Though I'm not sure if I'm right, I think Winter killed herself because she had a problem.

A problem with what? That's the question that I don't know the answer too. No amount of listening to those songs helped my figure it out. I wrote down the lyrics and tried to decipher them, only to fail.

But I doubt that the police would listen to what I would have to say about the songs. They were just songs, as far as anyone would think. But they weren't Winter's friends. They didn't know her. I knew Winter. To her, words weren't just words. They were like... They were like a whole new world to Winter.

And she was passionate about singing. So everything she sang or wrote meant something. That girl... It's surprising that she wanted to be an astronomer, not a singer.

I thought about it a bit. Winter wasn't noticed at school—until her death. Maybe the not being noticed part of her life discouraged her. Maybe it made her think that no one would know her if she ever became a singer. No one except for us.

“Young man!” My mom's high voice reaches my room.

I open the door. “Yeah?”

“Get down here!”

I wonder if they're mad.

I reluctantly make my way down from my room and into the living room where I can see my mother and my father, sitting on the couch.

My mother has brown hair and green eyes. She's quite tall for her age. Around the same height as my father. My father looks young... And well... Kind of like me. Or, as I could phrase it better, I kind of look like my father. I have his black hair and blue eyes.

Anyway, they turn to look at me. They don't look upset.

“Yeah?”

“Your friends are here,” my father says. I almost roll my eyes. They scream at me... Just to say that my friends are here?

“They're on the lawn outside. They're wondering if you want to go play basketball with them,” my mother adds. I frown. Basketball? Since when has Arianna and Desiree been interested in basketball?

“Um, okay. I'll go see them,” I say. I'm in shorts and a t-shirt already, so I don't have to change. I open the door and step out, prepared to see Arianna and Desiree.

Desiree had called me earlier, I know she's been crying. I wonder how she is now. And Arianna. I remember when I told Arianna that Winter was dead.

I feel guilty about Winter's death. While Arianna and Desiree are feeling the pain of her death, I'm not feeling anything yet. I wonder how long this is going to last before I break.

I close the door and look up. “Ari, Desiree—” I pause, because it isn't Arianna and Desiree.

There are three teenage guys my age standing on the lawn. Two of them as blonde and one of them has black hair like mine.

“Hey dude, nice to see that you're...sane,” Tomas says. He smiles a bit.

“I thought you were going to fall in a state of depression,” Con adds.

“Heard about Liane? She's completely into you, man,” Peter says.

“Oh, um, hey guys,” I say. I wasn't expecting them. But I knew that they would pop up sooner or later. I guess they just picked sooner.

“Are you still with Desiree?” Peter looks at me questioningly.

I'm surprised they would ever ask that question. “Yeah, of course,” I answer.

“Oh, did you read the article that Liane Chau wrote?” Con asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Oh,” Con says, looking confused for a moment. “What do you think about it?”

“I think that Liane's a complete bitch who wants attention and a boyfriend,” I answer honestly. I don't even try to hide my disgust.

“So those things about Ari and Desiree... Completely false and untrue...” Tomas says.

I nod. “Yeah. They're all lies and false truths.”

“Lies and false truths,” Peter murmurs. He knows I took that line from him. He use to say it all the time. 'Hey! That little shit is full of lies and false truths!' I personally love that quote. And so does... So does Winter. I know that Winter and Peter were close. But I don't know if they ever had a thing for each other.

It was too late for them now.

Con shakes his head in disgust. “I hate that Liane girl, she was in a lot of my classes,” Con says. “Is Ari okay?”

I shrug. I didn't see Arianna yesterday at all. Though I heard that she's read the article. I know that Liane's in a lot of classes with Arianna.

“Ari was at school yesterday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. She wasn't in art class,” I say. “Isn't that her favourite class?”

There's silence for a while.

Con curses. “I hope she's not...like...depressed,” he says. Even though Con won't admit it, he sort of has a thing for Arianna. Tomas, Con, and Peter hang out with Arianna, Winter, and Desiree sometimes. But now... Winter's gone.

Things won't ever be the same way ever again.

“Ari's pretty strong. I don't think we need to worry about her. She takes care of herself,” I say.

“How's Desiree?” Tomas asks.

I pause and think about it for a while. I think back to the phone call earlier and yesterday in the girl's bathroom. “She's... She's having some difficulties,” I finally say.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Peter says, “do you want to play basketball with us?”

“Sorry, I can't,” I say. “I have to think of something to say for Winter's funeral. You guys are coming, right?”

Tomas nods. “Yeah, we're coming. Most of the school is coming. I heard that Liane's coming, with her camera buddy.”

I frown. “Camera buddy? What?”

“Liane's friend. She carries a camera around a lot and takes a lot of pictures. She's also a bitch. She calls herself 'Scandalicious'.” Con explains. I wonder if this camera buddy is the one in our English class.

“That sucks,” I say. “I wish I could restrict who could come. In my funeral, Liane and her friends are definitely not being invited.”

“I know,” Con says. “Is Ari going to be there?”

“Yeah, definitely. It's Winter's funeral, after all,” I say.

Peter sighs. “I kind of miss Winter. She was...nice.” I wonder if he has feelings for her.

All of us miss Winter.

“Hey, I heard Drew Sorauren was going to be there,” Tomas says. I see Peter frown a bit.

I frown along with him. Who the heck is Drew Sorauren? I think I remember his name...

“Reminds me of fifth grade. Drew Sorauren.”

I remember Desiree saying his name now... But who is he?

“Who's that?” I ask.

“I heard he was Winter's secret boyfriend. Or at least—I think that they were seeing each other,” Peter says, giving me an odd look. Is it just me... Or can I sense a bit of jealousy coming from him?

“I never heard of him,” I say incredulously. Winter would tell me if she was seeing someone. She wouldn't keep me in the dark of these things...

Or would she?

Do I really know her?

I block out that thought. No, I think to myself, you're her best friend. Why wouldn't she tell you these things? It's the Winter thing to do. She wouldn't hide anything from you.

But still. I have an uneasy feeling about this.

“Really? You never heard of him?” Con sounds incredulous too.

I shrug. “Maybe Winter told me, but I forgot.” But I don't think I would forget if she told me she was seeing someone. Though I don't mention this. I wonder if Arianna and Desiree know that Winter (apparently) was seeing someone named Drew Sorauren.

“Okay, well... See you at the...ah, funeral,” Peter says. I nod.

“See you,” I say. The three of them turn to leave and I head back in the house. I want to go play basketball with them, but I know my mother and father won't let me leave until they know what I'm going to say at Winter's funeral.

“How were they?” My mother asks that as soon as I walk in the house.

“Great,” I say without emotion. I have a few hours until Winter's funeral. I'm thinking hard about what I should say. And then maybe when I figure that out I can go see Desiree—

“Oh? I thought they were also Winter's friends,” my father says.

“Yes,” I say. “They are.” Not were. Were is past tense. I'm still her friend.

“Aren't they grieving?” My mother asks.

“Aren't you grieving?” I say. I didn't mean to be rude. But when I see their faces, I know I had said something that had offended them.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“I'm sad, yes,” my mother says. “But I wasn't close to Winter. I didn't know her enough to... Just feel enough,” she says. Is it just my imagination, or does she sound guilty?

“I'm really glad,” she continues, “I'm really glad that she saved you from those horrible drugs. I can never thank her enough for that... But I was never close to her. You understand? It's like if one of your friends had a pet—a dog or something, and it died one day, your friend would grieve because they were extremely close to that pet. But you—you've barely seen that dog, so you simply don't know enough about the dog to grieve.”

I know my mother isn't implying that Winter's a dog, but that example manages to piss me off. “Winter's not a dog. She's a human being.” I restrain myself from swearing. I've always been the one to swear the most... Desiree hates swearing. And Winter and Arianna does it to the minimum. Actually, I've never heard Winter swear before.

“Your mother isn't saying that she's a dog,” my father says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at them.

“Yeah, okay,” I say as I start up the stairs. I don't want to see anyone right now. I want to have an hour alone in my room.

Luckily, my parents don't try to stop me and I continue up the stairs.

I shut the door and flop onto my bed. My iPod is still on. I turn it off before it can run out of power.

I think about what my friends had said about this Drew Sorauren person. For some reason, it unsettles me to think that Winter didn't tell me about him. It's... It's just unsettling. I know that I'm being stupid—Winter can tell who she wants to tell...

Drew Sorauren... Desiree knows that name too. And for some reason, that makes me jealous. And I feel absolutely stupid for feeling jealous. Why would I feel jealous? Desiree and Drew... Drew and Desiree...

Something about their names placed together...

You're being ridiculous, Campbell, I think to myself, shape up.

But still... This Drew person...

I can think about that later. For now, I have to know what to say for Winter's funeral. I can't just... I can't just forget forget about what I'm going to say. I need to plan.

You can freaking improvise, my inner thoughts say, refusing to let me think about my speech for Winter's funeral, just find out who this Drew guy is! It's damn important!

I'm in turmoil with my own thoughts. I can't focus right now. I want to know who Drew Sorauren is, but at the same time, I need to think about what to say at Winter's funeral. God! I don't know what to think about! Which was more important?

Maybe I should improvise instead of over thinking things and making it complicated by outlining what I'm going to say at the funeral.

I take my phone and call Desiree before I can even think it over. She picks up immediately. It hadn't even rung twice.

“Yeah?” Desiree asks.

“Um, I need to ask you something,” I begin. Now that I've actually called her, I don't know exactly what to say. Do I just... Do I just mention his name? Will she tell me everything she knows?

“What is it?” Desiree sounds concerned.

“Drew Sorauren,” I blurt out. I know that this is probably none of my business, but I still want to know. I feel like a creeper—wanting to know everyone's business... Well not exactly everyone...

“Drew Sorauren?” Desiree asks, her voice sounds weird through the phone. I tell myself that I'm just hearing things. “What about him?”

“I heard that he was seeing Winter before her death,” I say slowly. I don't have a great feeling about this conversation.

“And?” Her voice sounds...impatient? No, I'm just imagining things. Desiree's not the type of girl to lose her temper easily. That was more... I guess it was more Arianna and Winter's thing to be short-tempered. Desiree isn't like that.

“I don't know. I just have a weird feeling that he might have something to do with Winter's suicide. You know...”

“No, I don't know,” Desiree says. And is it just my imagination? Or do I hear some sort of...anger in her voice? I feel that feeling of jealousy start to rise to the surface. I try to push it down. I'm just imagining things...

“What are you talking about?”

“Winter's death was a suicide. She killed herself,” Desiree says.

“I know that,” I say.

“Then what does Drew have to do with this?”

“Suicide usually means that the victims kill themselves for a reason... I think that Drew—”

“Is the reason?” Desiree finishes for me. “Oh, so Winter got so depressed about something that Drew did that she kill herself? Get your facts straight, Andrew.” I can definitely hear the anger now.

“No! Listen, Desiree, I been listening to some of Winter's songs before her death. They're all... They're all pointing to something...”

“And?”

I can't stop the irritation from my voice. “They're all freaking dark. It's like a warning that Winter would kill herself. But you caught onto it—if just barely. I was listening to them and trying to decipher the meanings... I know that Winter thought she had a reason to end her life...”

“Yes?” Her voice is impatient. I suddenly have the urge to yell.

“I think Drew has something to do with her death. A problem that led to her death,” I say blandly. “I think that this Drew Sorauren guy is tied to her death.”

There's silence. And then Desiree starts to talk. Not just normal talking. Desiree's screaming at me. Yelling horrible things.

“Jeez, Andrew! You don't even know Drew! And you're blaming him already! What's wrong with you? Can't you use your brain for once? I can't believe I...” she falters. “I can't believe I ever liked an idiot like you! You're an imbecile!”

Anger is rising, but I don't speak...yet. I try to control my anger. But the beast within is raging, trying to break through the cage.

This is Desiree, your girlfriend, I think to myself, stop getting angry. Control your anger. She's your darn girlfriend.

But getting control of your anger is easier said then done. Especially during moments like these.

“Look, I'm not exactly blaming him,” I say, trying to calm myself, “I'm just saying that he might—”

“Might what? Be the killer? Oh, so he secretly killed Winter and made it look like a suicide? Is that what you're trying to say? Maybe he came in with the knife and stabbed her in the chest before covering up so everything looked like a suicide!”

“Desiree, I'm not—” I'm cut off by Desiree.

“Why do you have to be such an ass hole, Andrew? So you're already framing Drew for Winter's death. Big surprise, that's so unlike you,” Desiree says, sarcasm clear in her voice. “You don't even know Drew. That just shows what an idiot you're being.”

To say that I'm furious may be an underestimation.

But still... I try to process rational thoughts in the very strong tide of emotions. Still... It doesn't sound like Desiree to be acting this way... She's not like this... She's not short-tempered. She wouldn't be going off on me for something as stupid as this...

But she has.

And I know the beast has broken loose when all I see is red and black spots for a moment. Like...a wave crashing through me. There's silence on the phone. I don't think about what my consequences can be as I say the words. Words that shouldn't even reach Desiree's ears. Words that should be heavily censored.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Will you hear me out? I'm just fucking saying that this Drew guy might have something to do with Winter's death! I didn't say that he fucking killed her! And I'm not trying to fucking say that Drew killed Winter! Go fucking use your ears before you fucking go off on me! And you think that I'm an ass hole?! Why do you have to be such a mother fucking bitch?! Seriously, Lilian, use your fucking brain. Where did all your common sense go? Oh wait, Lilian, you don't have any. No wonder you're such an idiot.”

I don't call Desiree by her last name...anymore. I use to in ninth and tenth grade. When she hated me.

“Well, Campbell,” Desiree says, clearly emphasizing my last name. She hasn't called me Campbell since...well... Since forever. “You go talk your talk and be a little bastard. And by the way? Why don't you hook up with Liane Chau while doing that? Heck! Why don't you mess around in bed with Melinda Soares? Aren't you the type of person to do so?”

And that makes me even more angry. She's implying that I'm a player that only cares about messing in the majority of the female population's bed.

“Fuck your shit, Lilian,” I say with anger. “You go die in hell—”

“Uh—you can go die in bloody hell for all I care, you bloody little shithead,” she spits back before I can even finish. Bloody—that was... That was something she picked up when she was in England... When we were in England...

But the beast is raging, and I can't remember my happy memories anymore. All I want to do now is win this stupid argument.

“You know what?” I say angrily. I know exactly what I'm going to tell her. I hope it hurts her. I hurt it destroys her. Serves her right.

“What?” Her voice is full of venom. In fact, both of our voices are filled with venom.

“We're over. Clearly you're a stupid little bloody bitch that thinks the world revolves around you. Oh! And maybe it does! With Winter being dead and all, you get to play Famous Little Celebrity Bitch. Fuck you. Be all sympathetic and gain the support of other classmates. Isn't that what you want? Attention? All you want is attention, you're so full of yourself,” I say, disgust in my voice. “Fuck that.”

There's silence for a while before Lilian speaks. I can hear the full force of anger and hatred in her voice.

“Fine then. I never liked you anyways. You little bastard,” she says before the line is cut. Good. I hope she never liked me. I couldn't stand it.

I press the end button so forcefully that my finger hurts a bit. Then I hurl my phone at my bed. I may be mad, but I'm smart enough not to throw it on the ground.

“Fuck,” I yell. “Fuck you, Desiree Lilian.”

I need to get my mind off things, so I open my laptop and just look at my socializing sites to calm myself down.

I plan to post on what a bitch Lilian is...

...until I come across a picture of Lilian and I, our arms wrapped around each other, looking absolutely happy and cheerful. I freeze, staring at the picture.

The full force of the phone call hits me.

What the fuck have I done?

Well, I think, you're single now. Just what Liane wants. She probably thinks you broke up with Lilian because of her fucking stupid article.

Lilian.

Since when have I been calling her by her last name? That's not like me...

Desiree Lilian... Desiree Lilian... Desiree Lilian... Drew Sorauren.

This phone call...

This phone call that caused our break up...

Was all because of a stupid argument... Around a certain person named Drew Sorauren.