When It All Goes Wrong Again

“I can’t believe you guys are making me go to this,” I complained, shifting my weight to offset the heavy package of Lord-knows-what that was resting on my hip.

“Geesh A.J., it’s just the Fourth of July! It’s not like we’re making you torture small, furry animals!” Patrick exclaimed while rolling his eyes. “What do you have against this holiday anyway?”

“Please, don’t ask her that!” Pete hurriedly answered, throwing me a look that clearly said, “shut up” while he used a free hand to press the doorbell. “She’ll just start trash-talking all holidays – the girl’s got a serious observance problem!”

“But how can anyone not love a cook out?” Patrick wondered, truly bewildered about how I didn’t share his love of celebrations.

I tuned the two out. Once they got started on a subject, they could rant on for what seemed like hours – and they never noticed if I participated, thankfully. I shifted the box to my other hip, patiently waiting for the door to be answered.

“Try it again,” Patrick demanded. “He’s probably pissy cause we’re late.”

“He’s one to talk,” Pete grumbled, leaning against the buzzer again. “He’s the one who was late to movie night last week, then had the audacity to be mad because we started without him!”

I turned my head to hide my smile at their conversation. The past few weeks have been… indescribable, with lots of moments like this. It’s strange how comfortable I felt with these guys, how it was almost like coming home. They’ve been patiently tapping away at my shell, and I do believe it was starting to crack a little.

Before I could really start enjoying their annoyed banter, the door was flung open, and an extremely excited looking Brendon stood there beaming down at us. “Good, you’re here!” he exclaimed as he took the heavy box from my arms. “Now we can really have some fun!”

We followed him into his foyer, music and voices drifting in from the backyard through the door he had left hanging open. Pete and Patrick set their stuff on the kitchen table (why wouldn’t anyone tell me what we were bringing?). “Should we go set this up now?” Patrick asked, nodding his head at the boxes.

“We have plenty of time for that later,” Brendon said as he waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “But first, I have something for you – party favors!” He picked up a box of sparklers and offered them to Pete and Patrick. When I tried to take one, he pulled them out of my reach. “No you don’t! I’ve got something much better for the girl who shares my love of fire.”

“I hardly think anyone could share your love of—“

My words were cut off as he pulled out a massive sparkler – one that had to be at least two feet long – and handed it to me, a knowing grin on his face.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Where did you…? How did you…? I’ve never seen… Wow…”

“I know,” he said proudly. “Isn’t it the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Wait a minute,” Pete said, a disappointed tone in his voice. “Why are our sparklers so tiny?”

“Feeling inadequate Pete?” Patrick asked with an amused smile.

“No, its just A.J.’s is so much… bigger.”

“Well, when you’re as pretty as A.J., then you’ll get one of these. Until then…” Brendon said, motioning at the smaller sized sparkler. He folded up the long, empty box and put it in a large, black trash bag already full of party paraphernalia.

Pete’s face fell and I reached over to tousle his hair. “Don’t be sad. You know they say it’s not the size that matters.”

He looked at me with the strangest expression. Was he shocked? Mad? Insulted? I couldn’t tell. Silence fell over our group and I had the feeling I was being left out of something.

Brendon hopped up from the floor where he had been peeking in the boxes and came to my side. “Come on A.J.,” he said, pulling on my arm. “Everyone else is already outside.”

I broke my scrutinizing of Pete off and followed Brendon into the unusually cool night air. The backyard was filled with picnic tables, buffet tables, alcohol tables – I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a candy table somewhere. People were drifting around, some eating, some talking. It was your typical casual party atmosphere.

I couldn’t help one last glance over my shoulder. Pete and Patrick were whispering furiously as they made their way to the makeshift bar, heads close together. Pete’s eyes were narrowed and he hurried away from Patrick, like he heard something he didn’t want to.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, nudging Brendon and pointing in the other direction.

Brendon brought me to an empty picnic table and unnecessarily helped me sit. “I don’t know,” he cautiously said. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure. A soda’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a jiff!”

When he left, I took the opportunity to glance around at the other guests. Some I recognized and threw them shy waves. They smiled and waved back, but knew me well enough to know I’d rather be alone. It was nice that they didn’t think badly of me for it – just another quirky character to add to the bunch.

A plate of food appeared before me, as if by magic. “You must be hungry,” Patrick stated, sitting next to me with a plate of his own. “Eat!” he ordered.

We stuffed our faces for several minutes, with only the sounds of my chewing and the scraping of my fork against the plate (real dishes at a cook out?!) to fill the silence. “Hey,” I started haltingly, “what were you and Pete talking about before?”

“Man, this is good potato salad,” Patrick moaned in delight. “Have you tried the potato salad yet?”

“Patrick,” I said warningly.

He sighed and sat his fork down. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“So, should I not worry about that, too?” I asked, pointing across the yard. Patrick sighed again as his eyes followed my motion. Brendon and Pete were having what looked like the same whispered conversation: Brendon speaking very fast and low, holding his hands in some sort of pleading gesture, and Pete taking it, standing stubbornly with his arms crossed and his lip… “Is he pouting?” I asked in shock.

Patrick turned his attention back to his plate and quickly started shoving food in his mouth. “You know how Pete is,” he said between mouthfuls. “One minute cool and controlled, the next a big baby. He’s just being too hardheaded for his own good. It’ll pass.”

I let out a sigh of my own as Brendon threw up his hands and stalked away from Pete. Pete looked oddly smug until he saw I was watching. He gave me a shy, hesitant smile before turning back to the bar.

Realizing that was all I would get out of Patrick, I turned back to my own plate. The hunger I felt earlier had faded as worry crept in, and I could only bring myself to half-heartedly push the food around. I hope they’re not fighting, I thought. I couldn’t pick sides after knowing them for a month! I didn’t know any of them well enough for that. Well, other then Pete, I guess, but I was just starting to enjoy the idea of a group of friends. I don’t want that to go away, I admitted to myself.

“That stupid son-of-a-bitch! Why does he always dig in his heels?” Brendon muttered as he approached us.

“What’s going on?” I asked, hopefully keeping the worried edge from my voice.

Brendon dropped onto the bench and looked up in surprise. “What? Oh, nothing, it’s just…” He trailed off as a look of realization dawned across his face. “Shit A.J., I forgot your drink! I got sidetracked, but I’ll go get you one now—“

“Don’t worry about it Bren,” I said, stopping him before he walked away. “I’m not really thirsty.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said uncertainly. Suddenly, and old rap song blared from the speakers and he grinned as he held out his hand. “Let me make it up to you. Help me ‘bust a move’.”

I glanced over at Patrick just as he very unsuccessfully tried to cover up his laugh. Seeing how I wasn’t hungry anyway, I threw my napkin down and took Brendon’s hand. “Fine, but if you throw something out in the process, I’m not taking responsibility!”

-~-~-~-~-~-

~Pete~

Two hours.

Two hours of dancing with him, laughing with him, mingling with him… And he knew I was watching. “Thanks Bren,” I muttered. “Way to rub it in.”

“You should just go over and join them,” Patrick commented. His voice was calm, but I could tell he was getting tired of my pathetic sighs and impatient huffing.

“He’s just fucking doing this to prove a point, isn’t he?” I turned my back on them again, looking at my best friend for reassurance.

“I don’t get it, Pete,” Patrick said, eyebrows narrowed in a confused manner. “We don’t get it! You’ve never had a problem going after what you want before. Why now?”

I shifted in my seat, turning so I could see her from the corner of my eye. She threw her head back and laughed, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, and I cringed when she placed her hand on Brendon’s arm. “She’s different,” I whispered. “Different from anyone I’ve ever met. So sad, so desperate to hide it. She doesn’t want sympathy or for anyone to know her – and that just makes me want to.” I looked away from the idyllic scene I couldn’t help but be jealous of and back at Patrick. “I don’t think I could stand the rejection. What’s worse, I don’t think I could stand to lose her friendship, even as much as I want… her.”

Patrick stared me down, surely pondering some great words of wisdom to brighten my spirits. He was always good at shit like that. His face broke out in a grin and he stood, chuckling. “When did you become the epitome of emo, man?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Of course it is.” He came around the table and punched my arm lightly. “Emo is as emo does. Look, she’s alone. Go over and be her friend, Pete. And remember, she’s just a girl.”

He walked away, shaking his head. A part of me knew he was right, but if he only felt what I did… She’s not just a girl, I insisted to myself as I maneuvered around tables in the ever-darkening night.

-~-~-~-~-~-

“Did you know that when leaves fall off the trees in the summer, it means snow will come before Halloween?” A.J. offhandedly commented as we watched a few leaves swirl in the breeze. We were still sitting Indian-style on a table, distancing ourselves from the others, talking about whatever came to mind.

“Is that so?” I said. There was just enough light from the Chinese lanterns to make out the rueful smile she gave me.

“Well, that’s what my Poppa always said, but he lived down south. What would he know about snow?” She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the sky. “My mom would call him a superstitious old man and say that it just needed to rain.”

I held my breath and waited for more. This was the first time she’d ever mentioned her family, with the exception of her sister. Not that she’s said a lot about her, but in those few words you could tell how excited she is about Bridgett’s visit next month.

She didn’t go on, just closed her eyes and let her head hang back, hair brushing against the wood. Yet another mystery. Should I ask about it? It’s obvious she loves them, isn’t mad at them, but why does she so stoically avoid any family related questions? And in such a practiced way that the subject changes without you even noticing the detour in the conversation?

“Pete?” A.J. asked, saving me from making a decision. “Do you think the people who live in places where the sun barely goes down dream less?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well,” she said, sitting up like it would give her a better grasp on her thoughts, “more sun means less night – and maybe less sleep. Maybe the lack of darkness messes with body chemistry or something and you don’t dream or have nightmares or—“

“Hey guys!” someone called. “It’s time!”

Something heavy and soft hit me in the face then fell to my lap. A blanket. It’s time! I hopped up, took A.J.’s hand and pulled her to the spot under the tree that I had already picked out.

“It’s time for what?” she asked. Her eyes danced wildly as they followed the others whom were trying to find a decent spot. They, like me, were kicking rocks out of the way and throwing down blankets. “Pete, what’s going to happen?”

I looked up from the fabric I was struggling to smooth, curious about the panicky edge to her voice. “Fireworks, silly. It is the Fourth of July.”

The look in her eyes told me the simple connection just clicked, and with her jaw set, she turned and stomped back towards the house. “Where are you going?” I called, scrambling to get to my feet.

“Home.”

I quickly caught up and grabbed her arm, stepping in front of her to block her escape. “But you didn’t drive.”

“Then I’ll walk.” She tried sidestepping me to get around, but I cut her off.

“You live on the other side of town!”

“I don’t get enough exercise – it’ll be good for me.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders and planted my feet, my attempt at eye contact failing. “A.J.,” I said softly, “what’s wrong? Why the sudden need to leave?”

She tried jerking away from my grasp, but finally gave up with a sigh. Her eyes were resolutely on the ground and her arms crossed defensively as she said in a small voice, “I don’t like fireworks.”

“But everyone likes fireworks!” I cried in surprise.

“Not me.”

I narrowed my eyes and looked more closely at her downcast expression. “You sure seemed to like that sparkler.”

Another sigh. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Are you… afraid of them?”

Her head shot up angrily, eyes flashing. “No! I just prefer not to be around them. And there’s nothing that everyone likes – it’s impossible!”

It seems we were at a standstill. A.J. gave me a brief wounded look before turning to the group of guys working in the dark. Her eyes landed on a few very familiar boxes.

“We brought the fireworks, didn’t we,” she stated more then asked, with a note of finality.

“Listen,” I said in a low voice, gently taking her arm and pulling her back to our blanket, “I’m not going to let you leave alone, so you’re just going to have to brush off whatever issues you may have – at least for tonight.” I sat and patted the spot next to me encouragingly, and with a roll of her eyes, she joined me. “How bad could it be?” I added weakly.

She ignored my lame attempt at humor and stared off into space, her knees tucked under her chin. Her face was carefully blank and the only clue I had to her discomfort was the fact that her teeth were clenched so tightly I was afraid they would crumble into dust. Guilt crept in around my good intentions. Yeah Pete, this is how to win her over, I contemplated sarcastically. Force her to do something she doesn’t want to do.

“Okay everybody,” Brendon called from a distance. “We’re gonna start here in a minute. Everything is fine, just don’t get too close. We don’t want any accidents.”

“What, like last year?” someone from the crowd yelled out.

“Yeah Bren, I thought you were getting professionals this year!” someone else joined in.

“I didn’t need to – I read a book,” Brendon said defensively.

“What book?”

He paused, then answered sheepishly, “Fireworks for Dummies.” Laughter broke out and Brendon hurried away, finishing whatever necessary chores he had before starting.

When I looked to see how A.J. was doing, I saw that she hadn’t moved a muscle – except to squeeze her eyes shut. “Um, what are you doing?” I asked, a bit concerned.

“Pete,” she said, her eyes still closed, a wry, emotionless smile playing on her lips, “you can make me stay, but you can’t make me watch.”

“You’re not going to watch?!”

“Nope.”

“Just one? To see the amazingness and then you can change your mind?”

“Nope.”

A.J. flinched as the first firework went off and she missed as the sky filled with blue and green shimmers, fading as they fell. “You know,” I said playfully, “I could make you watch.”

A humorless laugh slipped from her throat. “What, are you going to hold my eyelids open?” My silence filled the air. “Pete, you wouldn’t…” she whispered, her voice wavering.

Suddenly, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back on the blanket, lying on top of her so she couldn’t get away. “I might,” I whispered right back.

Another firework went off just as her eyes popped open in surprise, its colors reflecting in those startling green eyes. I was transfixed as I stared down at her. Her eyes connected with mine, and she froze – probably at the emotion she saw.

More explosions came from above, lighting up her face, showing no signs of alarm on it. It looked peaceful, and those eyes… I couldn’t read them, but I was sure she was trying to tell me something. Without thinking, I leaned in closer. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

From there on out, it was like my brain disconnected from my body, like it was hovering somewhere above, watching. I was running on instinct only, and glad to be. No paranoid thoughts yelling at me to stop, no overanalyzing her every move, no berating myself for doing nothing – just action.

I lowered myself even more, my shadow falling over her. Her breathing quickened and I could almost feel each puff on my skin. If I just get a little closer… God, she looked so… Would it be cheesy to tell her how beautiful she looked beneath the glow of exploding gunpowder?

Soon, I was resting only on my elbows – which was enough to keep my full weight off of her – completely covering her and shielding her view of everything but me. My eyes flicked over her face, finally landing on her lips where they hungrily traced their outline.

I barely noticed as my face inched closer, our fast breath mixing, only wanting to feel her lips on mine. The air was laced with electricity, the outside world fading away except for the steady booming that matched my heartbeat. Millimeters separated us as I got closer… closer… closer…

“Hey – get a room!”

I froze as the immature remark brought me back to reality. The dreamy quality in A.J.’s eyes cleared and a scared one replaced it. In horror – and shame – of what I let happen, I rolled off her, moving as far away from her as I could while still on the blanket. It wasn’t very far – our elbows still brushed as she sat up, shifting into her previous position while carefully avoiding eye contact. For the rest of the ‘show’ we sat in silence, A.J. watching every burst of flame in the sky intently.