Knives and Pens
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
The atmosphere of the coffee shop was relaxing. People were clicking away at their laptops, enjoying the free Wi-Fi and sipping at their mocha. A woman sat in the back, holding a muffin and reading a James Patterson book. Two teenagers were in the far corner holding hands, laughing and just appreciating their time together.
The clerk behind the counter smiled as I approached.
“What can I get you today?” He said.
“Coffee with extra French vanilla, please.” I said. He nodded and began to make the coffee. When he set it on the counter I handed him the money.
“Have a nice day.”
I walked to a table near the window and waited for Andy. We had been coming here for the past three weeks. It was like a daily routine; after school we would meet here and just try and get to know each other better. He did not push me into telling most of my life and I was grateful for that.
So far, Andy has been the one doing the talking. He’s a senior who transferred to my school in his sophomore year due to bullying. He said he is planning on getting a record deal after he graduates. His father is not very pleased with the fact that he’s a musician; his father wants him to go to collage and major in business. I’ve only heard a few songs from his band and I have to admit that they are really good. Andy’s voice is deep; it fits perfectly with the music the band plays.
“Hey,” Andy said with a smile as he slid into the chair. He had already bought himself a coffee.
“Hi,” I greeted. “How did it go with your dad?”
Andy’s face fell and his eyes shifted to the table. “Not well,”
“What happened?”
“He said I didn’t know what I was doing, he said I was going to end up on the streets. If I did, he’s not going to take symphony when I come crawling back.” A tear escaped his eye and he quickly wiped it away.
“What did your mom say?”
“Same as always. She agreed.” He clenched his teeth, “I’m going to prove him wrong. It’s my dream and I’m going to get it no matter what he says.”
I smiled and patted his hand. The boy had so much confidence that I wish I could have. Whenever someone tries to crush me, I go down and it takes me forever to get back up again.
“You can do this, Andy. Never give in.” I said, and he smiled.
“Never back down.”
Suddenly, something had caught his eye, making them go wide in fear and hide behind his coffee cup.
“What’s wrong?”
He motioned his head toward the door. A boy stood by the entrance. He was tall, maybe a few inches taller than Andy. He had brown hair that was nearly gelded up and matched brown eyes.
“Remember when I told you about Justin Thanes?” He whispered. I nodded. “That’s him.” I looked over once again. Andy said Justin used to beat him and his friends up all the time at his old school for wearing make-up, black clothes, and liking “emo” music. “I haven’t seen him in two years. I don’t think recognizes me.”
“Andy Speckman,” I looked up to see Justin behind Andy, his arms crossed and an evil smirk playing at his lips.
“Spoke too soon,” Andy breathed. He straightened his shoulders and turned to look at his old nemesis. “Justin,”
“No longer working the long emo hair, I see.” Justin said.
“I see you’re still trying the Bieber look.” Andy spat.
Justin clenched his teeth and his eyes shifted to me, a flirty smile appeared. “Who’s this pretty lady?”
“None of your business.” I said coldly.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to be nice.” Justin’s smile turned cold. “Don’t waist your time with this kid. You should hang with us real men.”
“I would rather slam my tongue in a car door.”
Justin shrugged. “Suit yourself. Later, freak.” He slapped the back of Andy’s head before walking out the door.
I looked at the boy in front of me. Last time someone called him a freak, he threatened to beat the crap out of them. Now Andy just sat there, eyes on the table and his cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Andy?”
His eyes lifted for a second before falling back to the table. “I’m sorry,”
“You don’t have to be.” I said, placing my hand over his wrist. He flinched and quickly pulled away. The sleeve of his leather jacket was moved up a little and I could barely see red lines crisscrossing his skin.
Were those scars? Could it be possible that the unbreakable boy in front of me was actually cutting?
“I need to go.” Andy stood from the table and tossed the coffee cup into the trash. “I’ll text you later.”
I sat there in disbelief. I have never seen Andy look so defeated like that. He’s always been strong; the strongest person I’ve ever met. I rose from the chair, threw out the cup and started walking home. The art contest was next week and I need to keep that on my mind, I’ll worry about Andy later.
The theme for the contest is teenage problems and I still had no idea what to enter. Annabelle had texted me last night saying Jett had already finished his and been flaunting it all over school. I should just drop out. I can’t beat him. No, Harley. That’s exactly what he wants you to do. I won’t let him win. I can’t give up.
Dennis was in the kitchen when I got home. He sat in one of the chairs, sipping a can of beer. The usual smell of alcohol filled the room and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. Dennis glared as I walked passed him and into my room. I went to my computer and logged into Facebook.
34 messages, it said.
Drop out; it’s not worth it.
You’re worthless. You can’t win.
Just drop out before you make a fool of yourself.
Every single one told me to drop out of the contest. Jett was going to win and I would look like a fool. Tears formed in my eyes. Why can’t someone just believe in me? Why can’t someone be there for me? I slammed the lid and threw the computer on the floor. My hands tangled in my messy black hair as I let out a muffled scream in my pillow. I am worthless and everyone will know it.
The demon poked back into my mind again. After so many months I thought it had finally gone away. No, it was still there; it’s always going to be there. I quickly stood up and grabbed a box from under my bed. The blade smiled at me when I opened the lid. It was an old, broken off pencil sharpener, but sharp enough to pierce my skin. I rolled up the sleeve of my gray and black hoodie to reveal the past scars that have healed and left ugly pink lines across my flesh. My eyes closed and without thinking, I dug the blade into my skin, dragging it across old scars and leaving new ones. Blood now covered my arm and I dropped the pencil sharpener. Tears erupted and soon I was full on sobbing. My hands covered my face as I tried to whip the tears.
My body stiffened as I heard a soft knock on the door. I prayed it wasn’t my mother. The door opened to show a very apologetic looking Andy. He had a guitar slung on his back and his eyes were casted down on the floor.
“Look, Harley, I’m sorry for running off earlier. I just didn’t want you to – “ He stopped when he spotted my blood covered arm. “Harley…”
“Please don’t hate me…” I whisper through tears. He dropped the guitar and kneeled in front of me, taking the bloody arm in his hand.
“I could never hate you.” Andy gave a weak smile then pulled me up by the waist and led me into the bathroom. He turned on the water then guided my arm underneath. I hissed in pain as the hot water hit my skin. The blood had eventually stopped and I watched it fall down the drain as Andy wrapped gauze around the fresh wounds. He then guided me back into my bedroom and sat down on the desk chair. I hesitated, knowing the questions were about to come, but I sat on the bed anyway.
“Why?” Andy asked after a minute of silence.
“Because I deserve it.” I said, looking down. “It takes away the pain and memories.”
“But it also makes you want to go back for more. You get addicted until you can’t stop. It’s like a drug.” Andy said. I stayed silent, hoping he would question me no further. Instead, he pulled up his sleeve. Marking his perfect pale arms were red cuts lining every inch of his forearm and wrists, most were around his "I am bulletproof" tattoo. I looked at him with tears in my eyes. Andy was supposed to be strong, a rock, stable and supportive. No like me who was like a bent piece of metal, never to return to it’s normal form again. “Every name, beating, and manipulation ended up right here.” He pointed to his arm.
“But…” I trailed off. I could not think of one intelligent thing to say. I just sighed and shut my mouth.
“I finally stopped after finding my way out.” Andy reached down and picked up his guitar. “Music was my way out. I wrote a song that helped me stop.”
“Can I here it?” I asked softly. He smiled and nodded, positioning his fingers on the correct strings to form a G chord and started strumming the most beautiful melody I have ever heard.
"Alone at last, we can sin and fight.
And I've lost all faith in this blurring light,
Stay right here we can change our plight.
Storming through this despite what's right.
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Lay your heart down, the ends in sight.
Conscience begs for you to do what's right.
Everyday it's still the same dull knife,
Stab right through and justify your pride.
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Whoa-oh-oh
Well I can't go on without your love, you lost, you never held on.
We tried our best; turn out the light,
Turn out the light
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Whoa-oh-oh
Well I can't go on without your love, you lost, you never held on.
We tried our best; turn out the light,
Turn out the light"
By the time Andy reached the last few notes, there were already fresh new tears dripping down my cheeks.
“That was…beautiful. What’s it called?”
“Knives and Pens,” He said, placing the guitar back on the floor. He then took my hands in his and stared into my eyes. “Just know you’re not alone, okay?” I nodded and he whipped a tear from my cheek.
“Thank you,” I whispered then reached out and hugged him.
The atmosphere of the coffee shop was relaxing. People were clicking away at their laptops, enjoying the free Wi-Fi and sipping at their mocha. A woman sat in the back, holding a muffin and reading a James Patterson book. Two teenagers were in the far corner holding hands, laughing and just appreciating their time together.
The clerk behind the counter smiled as I approached.
“What can I get you today?” He said.
“Coffee with extra French vanilla, please.” I said. He nodded and began to make the coffee. When he set it on the counter I handed him the money.
“Have a nice day.”
I walked to a table near the window and waited for Andy. We had been coming here for the past three weeks. It was like a daily routine; after school we would meet here and just try and get to know each other better. He did not push me into telling most of my life and I was grateful for that.
So far, Andy has been the one doing the talking. He’s a senior who transferred to my school in his sophomore year due to bullying. He said he is planning on getting a record deal after he graduates. His father is not very pleased with the fact that he’s a musician; his father wants him to go to collage and major in business. I’ve only heard a few songs from his band and I have to admit that they are really good. Andy’s voice is deep; it fits perfectly with the music the band plays.
“Hey,” Andy said with a smile as he slid into the chair. He had already bought himself a coffee.
“Hi,” I greeted. “How did it go with your dad?”
Andy’s face fell and his eyes shifted to the table. “Not well,”
“What happened?”
“He said I didn’t know what I was doing, he said I was going to end up on the streets. If I did, he’s not going to take symphony when I come crawling back.” A tear escaped his eye and he quickly wiped it away.
“What did your mom say?”
“Same as always. She agreed.” He clenched his teeth, “I’m going to prove him wrong. It’s my dream and I’m going to get it no matter what he says.”
I smiled and patted his hand. The boy had so much confidence that I wish I could have. Whenever someone tries to crush me, I go down and it takes me forever to get back up again.
“You can do this, Andy. Never give in.” I said, and he smiled.
“Never back down.”
Suddenly, something had caught his eye, making them go wide in fear and hide behind his coffee cup.
“What’s wrong?”
He motioned his head toward the door. A boy stood by the entrance. He was tall, maybe a few inches taller than Andy. He had brown hair that was nearly gelded up and matched brown eyes.
“Remember when I told you about Justin Thanes?” He whispered. I nodded. “That’s him.” I looked over once again. Andy said Justin used to beat him and his friends up all the time at his old school for wearing make-up, black clothes, and liking “emo” music. “I haven’t seen him in two years. I don’t think recognizes me.”
“Andy Speckman,” I looked up to see Justin behind Andy, his arms crossed and an evil smirk playing at his lips.
“Spoke too soon,” Andy breathed. He straightened his shoulders and turned to look at his old nemesis. “Justin,”
“No longer working the long emo hair, I see.” Justin said.
“I see you’re still trying the Bieber look.” Andy spat.
Justin clenched his teeth and his eyes shifted to me, a flirty smile appeared. “Who’s this pretty lady?”
“None of your business.” I said coldly.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to be nice.” Justin’s smile turned cold. “Don’t waist your time with this kid. You should hang with us real men.”
“I would rather slam my tongue in a car door.”
Justin shrugged. “Suit yourself. Later, freak.” He slapped the back of Andy’s head before walking out the door.
I looked at the boy in front of me. Last time someone called him a freak, he threatened to beat the crap out of them. Now Andy just sat there, eyes on the table and his cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Andy?”
His eyes lifted for a second before falling back to the table. “I’m sorry,”
“You don’t have to be.” I said, placing my hand over his wrist. He flinched and quickly pulled away. The sleeve of his leather jacket was moved up a little and I could barely see red lines crisscrossing his skin.
Were those scars? Could it be possible that the unbreakable boy in front of me was actually cutting?
“I need to go.” Andy stood from the table and tossed the coffee cup into the trash. “I’ll text you later.”
I sat there in disbelief. I have never seen Andy look so defeated like that. He’s always been strong; the strongest person I’ve ever met. I rose from the chair, threw out the cup and started walking home. The art contest was next week and I need to keep that on my mind, I’ll worry about Andy later.
The theme for the contest is teenage problems and I still had no idea what to enter. Annabelle had texted me last night saying Jett had already finished his and been flaunting it all over school. I should just drop out. I can’t beat him. No, Harley. That’s exactly what he wants you to do. I won’t let him win. I can’t give up.
Dennis was in the kitchen when I got home. He sat in one of the chairs, sipping a can of beer. The usual smell of alcohol filled the room and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. Dennis glared as I walked passed him and into my room. I went to my computer and logged into Facebook.
34 messages, it said.
Drop out; it’s not worth it.
You’re worthless. You can’t win.
Just drop out before you make a fool of yourself.
Every single one told me to drop out of the contest. Jett was going to win and I would look like a fool. Tears formed in my eyes. Why can’t someone just believe in me? Why can’t someone be there for me? I slammed the lid and threw the computer on the floor. My hands tangled in my messy black hair as I let out a muffled scream in my pillow. I am worthless and everyone will know it.
The demon poked back into my mind again. After so many months I thought it had finally gone away. No, it was still there; it’s always going to be there. I quickly stood up and grabbed a box from under my bed. The blade smiled at me when I opened the lid. It was an old, broken off pencil sharpener, but sharp enough to pierce my skin. I rolled up the sleeve of my gray and black hoodie to reveal the past scars that have healed and left ugly pink lines across my flesh. My eyes closed and without thinking, I dug the blade into my skin, dragging it across old scars and leaving new ones. Blood now covered my arm and I dropped the pencil sharpener. Tears erupted and soon I was full on sobbing. My hands covered my face as I tried to whip the tears.
My body stiffened as I heard a soft knock on the door. I prayed it wasn’t my mother. The door opened to show a very apologetic looking Andy. He had a guitar slung on his back and his eyes were casted down on the floor.
“Look, Harley, I’m sorry for running off earlier. I just didn’t want you to – “ He stopped when he spotted my blood covered arm. “Harley…”
“Please don’t hate me…” I whisper through tears. He dropped the guitar and kneeled in front of me, taking the bloody arm in his hand.
“I could never hate you.” Andy gave a weak smile then pulled me up by the waist and led me into the bathroom. He turned on the water then guided my arm underneath. I hissed in pain as the hot water hit my skin. The blood had eventually stopped and I watched it fall down the drain as Andy wrapped gauze around the fresh wounds. He then guided me back into my bedroom and sat down on the desk chair. I hesitated, knowing the questions were about to come, but I sat on the bed anyway.
“Why?” Andy asked after a minute of silence.
“Because I deserve it.” I said, looking down. “It takes away the pain and memories.”
“But it also makes you want to go back for more. You get addicted until you can’t stop. It’s like a drug.” Andy said. I stayed silent, hoping he would question me no further. Instead, he pulled up his sleeve. Marking his perfect pale arms were red cuts lining every inch of his forearm and wrists, most were around his "I am bulletproof" tattoo. I looked at him with tears in my eyes. Andy was supposed to be strong, a rock, stable and supportive. No like me who was like a bent piece of metal, never to return to it’s normal form again. “Every name, beating, and manipulation ended up right here.” He pointed to his arm.
“But…” I trailed off. I could not think of one intelligent thing to say. I just sighed and shut my mouth.
“I finally stopped after finding my way out.” Andy reached down and picked up his guitar. “Music was my way out. I wrote a song that helped me stop.”
“Can I here it?” I asked softly. He smiled and nodded, positioning his fingers on the correct strings to form a G chord and started strumming the most beautiful melody I have ever heard.
"Alone at last, we can sin and fight.
And I've lost all faith in this blurring light,
Stay right here we can change our plight.
Storming through this despite what's right.
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Lay your heart down, the ends in sight.
Conscience begs for you to do what's right.
Everyday it's still the same dull knife,
Stab right through and justify your pride.
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Whoa-oh-oh
Well I can't go on without your love, you lost, you never held on.
We tried our best; turn out the light,
Turn out the light
One final fight, for this tonight.
Whoa-oh-oh
With Knives and Pens we made our plight.
Whoa-oh-oh
Well I can't go on without your love, you lost, you never held on.
We tried our best; turn out the light,
Turn out the light"
By the time Andy reached the last few notes, there were already fresh new tears dripping down my cheeks.
“That was…beautiful. What’s it called?”
“Knives and Pens,” He said, placing the guitar back on the floor. He then took my hands in his and stared into my eyes. “Just know you’re not alone, okay?” I nodded and he whipped a tear from my cheek.
“Thank you,” I whispered then reached out and hugged him.