Ruin Everything

My ankle was most decidedly broken. I was given crutches, pain killers, and an ankle brace for the next 6 to 8 weeks, as well as a standing appointment with the local physical therapist. Jack did give me a lecture, as expected, about taking care of myself and being careful, and I tuned out for most of it. I understood, though. He was worried about me, because that’s what families do. They worry and care about one another.

“Are colleges going to take you?” he asked one night over the phone. I’d called him because I couldn’t sleep, and I just wanted to know if my brother was okay.

“What?”

“You know, now that you went and broke your ankle? Are they still offering scholarships?”

“Uhh, I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I’d look into that, if I were you. I mean, I’d want to know if an injury would damage your chances of getting into colleges or whatever. I’d call those scouts and ask tomorrow.”

“It’s like you’re actively trying to freak me out,” I grumbled, laying my head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. I wish I’d had those glow-in-the-dark stars I’d had in one of the apartments my mom and I lived in. The previous tenants had left them behind, too lazy to take them down, and I used to stare up at them at night, making false wishes like they were shooting stars, and make my own constellations. I’d come up with little stories about each constellation, like how The Goat was prancing in the sky one night when the Lion came up to it and asked to join it, but the Goat was too scared and ran away. The Lion cried, because all of the other constellations were afraid of him and never wanted to play with him. I had decided that that’s where shooting stars came from; they were the tears of constellations. I told Jack this, the words slipping from my mouth easily. I trusted Jack not to laugh, trusted him more than I’d ever trusted my own mother. I’d known, even back then, not to tell her about my little constellations, my stories.

“Maybe I’ll buy you glow-in-the-dark stars on the way home,” he replied, reminding me that he’d be home soon.

“When is tour over?”

“One week,” he answered with a yawn.

“How was the show tonight?”

“It was great. It wasn’t Sears Center or anything, but it was a big venue for us. And the kids were singing the songs back to Alex, and it was brilliant, Ace. I love it.”

I hummed and he continued, telling me about the kids he’d met afterwards, going out to sign for the fans that had waited around. He was so passionate about them, and the music, and touring. I couldn’t imagine Jack doing anything other than this. This was his one true love.

“You okay?” he asked minutes later after I’d gone silently, just listening.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I yawned.

“Do you want me to let you go?”

“No, just keep talking,” I mumbled, curling on my side. “Tell me more about tour. How are the guys?”

“Oh! We were in Idaho or Indiana or something and Alex decides he wants to,” Jack launched into a new story and his voice gently rocked me to sleep. When I woke, it was almost four in the morning, my cell phone lying abandoned on the bed. I checked and smiled, Jack had sent me a goodnight text, having ended the call sometime after midnight. Another text came in just after that, from Noland.

want to hang out tomorrow? Miss you

I didn’t want it to, but I swear my heart skipped a beat. My fingers typed back my reply automatically, an overly enthusiastic sure! sending itself before I could stop it.

Great! Meet me at the school around 1?

I grinned at Noland’s response. I was glad he wasn’t one of those texters who shortened every word, and overly used “text talk.” I was guilty of the occasional lol, or brb but I could not imagine typing full sentences without actual words.

see you then

A grin spread over my face and I curled into myself on the bed, drawing my blankets tighter around myself. I fell back asleep and woke up just before noon. I rolled out of bed, hobbling without my crutches to my dresser and rummaged through my clothes, picking out a pair of dark jeans and an over-sized beige sweater. I started towards the door, when I stopped and decided differently. I threw my outfit on top of the dresser and dialed Becca’s cell phone.

“What do you want, Jankowski?” she barked in lieu of a hello.

“If you were trying to get a guy, but not actually get with him, what would you wear?”

“That was the most confusing sentence in the English language, ever.”

“It’s only confusing to you because you don’t know how to be around guys without fucking them.”

She started to protest but seemed to think better of it, agreeing.

“Okay, so this guy. Who is it? Is it Sam?”

“No, it’s not Sam.”

“That’s a damn shame. Someone needs to mount that pony soon,” she replied.

“It’s not gonna be anyone with a vagina, that’s for sure.”

She snorted, “True, true. Okay, so unidentified male that you want to get all hot and bothered but not sleep with.”

“I guess, I dunno. I just want to be around him, and not be with him.”

“Okay, well, tank tops are always good.”

“It’s nearly Christmas, Becca.”

“Fine, wear a tank top underneath a sweater, but take the sweater off once you’re hanging out. And a skirt, to show off those fucking legs of yours. Why won’t you tell me who it is?”

“Thanks, Beck. I’ll call you tonight.”

“No, seriously, why won’t you tell me?”

“Goodbye Rebecca,” I said and hung up. I picked out a tank top, a dark brown skirt and snatched the sweater off the top of my dresser before I went to get ready in the downstairs bathroom.

It was just after one when I pulled into the parking lot of the school, the spaces vacant for the weekend. I parked at the very front, leaving the car running so I wouldn’t get cold. It was almost Christmas, the Saturday before and snow and frost covered most of the visible surfaces. There was no sign of Noland, although I didn’t exactly know what sign I was looking for. It came, however, five minutes later in the form of a relatively new Pontiac G6. He parks beside my Aveo, tiny compared to the length of his sedan, and gestures me over from his seat. I get out and lock up my doors before folding myself into the passenger seat of the Pontiac, crutches tucked awkwardly beside me.

“I must say, I was surprised you agreed. I mean, at the party you freaked out when I kissed you, rambling on about a boyfriend and how even though no one knew about him, you still had to be faithful,” he said with a gentle smile. I flushed at the vague memory rushing back. His lips had been soft, but I’d pushed him away and babbled on about Alex and whatever it was that we had going on. He hadn’t really called since he’d left, just a text or two each day, sometimes dumb photos of him or one of the guys coming through in place of actual words. I guess I understood, it was tour, it was what they’d worked for, but one phone call would be nice, just so I could hear his voice again. I didn’t even want it as his girlfriend; I wanted it as his friend. I wanted to hear his voice the same way as I wanted to hear Rian’s, or Zack’s. I wanted to know for sure that they were coming home, coming back and not abandoning me.

Separation anxieties were a bitch sometimes.

“Sorry about that,” I replied finally, ducking my head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I really just wanted to hang out. Now, come on,” he said, stepping out of the Pontiac without any warning. He loped towards the front doors of the school, stopping only to look at me and gesture me on. I followed behind, warily and hobbling as he pulled an ID badge from his coat pocket. Instead of heading for the lobby entrance, Noland veers to the right and stands by the faculty entrance which opens into the front staircase. He taps the badge against the sensor and the door unlocks, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Nicked it off Mr. Locke when he gave me detention last week. Thought I’d put it to use before they change the locks or something.”

“Okay, so what are we doing here?” I asked, following Noland into the dark, deserted stairway.

“I dunno, haven’t you ever just wanted to break into the school and fuck some shit up? Because, I have.”

“No, I really haven’t ever.”

“Seriously? I thought this was the kind of thing that went on bucket lists, break into school and fuck around.”

“Maybe for you but I’m not a delinquent,” I replied easily, climbing the stairs like I did every day towards my locker, except this time on crutches.

“I’ve never done anything vaguely delinquent, thank you very much,” he followed behind a few steps back. I couldn’t see it, but I had a feeling his hand was hovering over my lower back like people tended to do since the accident.

“Maybe not vaguely delinquent but you admitted to very stalker like behaviors,” I shot over my shoulder.

“I like to think of it as invested people watching,” he informed me without missing a beat.

“A rose by any other name,” I shrugged.

“Are you quoting Shakespeare at me?”

I hummed as I swung into the second story hallway, eerily pitch black save for the skylights in the ramps.

“Where should we start?”

“I dunno, you tell me,” he said, pressing himself into my back. I bit my lip and turned around, smirking at him and moving backwards. He followed step for step, keeping himself pressed close into my space.

“Anyone you want revenge on?” I asked, putting us against a locker. He grinned and pressed in closer.

“I think I have an idea.”