The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(14)

“What kind of trouble did you get in?” Seth asks, checking the watch on his wrist.

“Not too much.” Luke pops a toothpick into his mouth. “The cops in our town usually go easy on football players.”

“Figures,” Seth mutters, giving me a sidelong glance, and I offer him a sympathetic smile.

Kayden’s foot keeps bumping mine from below the table and I want to ask him to stop, but I can’t even make eye contact with him. I grow flustered because part of me likes it. I’m losing control over my feelings and I desperately need to get a hold of them again.

The waitress returns and jots down our orders. I try to do my best and order a whole meal with the intention to eat it all. When the food arrives however, my stomach clenches, and I can tell right away that I’m going to do it, just like I always do.

Chapter 3
#52 Take a Chance For God’s Sake

Kayden

It’s been a week since school started. Classes are a pain in the ass. I was warned that college would be harder, but I never prepared myself for how much solo work was required. Between that and practice, I’ve had zero time to focus on anything else in my life.

I’ve crossed paths with Callie twice since we ate at the restaurant and each time she avoids me. She’s in my Biology class, but sits in the back, as far away from anyone else as she can, focusing on her pen and paper. The girl has to have a whole notebook full of notes with how fixated she is with them.

I try not to stare at her, but most of the time I can’t help it. It’s fascinating to watch how oblivious she is to everyone. It would be nice to get lost in my thoughts, instead of always worrying about shit.

I’m getting ready to go to class, telling myself that I need to leave Callie alone, when I get a phone call from my dad.

“You left your shit in the garage,” is the first thing he says to me.

“Sorry,” I apologize, forcing myself to breathe as I grab my books. “But I thought mom said I could.”

“Your mom has no say in these things,” he says sharply. “If you wanted to keep your shit here, you should have asked me. God, how many times do you have to screw up before you stop?"

I want to argue, but he’s right. I screw up more than I don’t. I let him chew my ass off for over fifteen minutes, and he makes me feel like a f*cking kid again.

After I hang up, I stare at the mirror above the dresser, analyzing every scar on my face until it just looks like one big scar. Suddenly, all this anger pours out of me and I kick the shit out of the dresser until one of the drawers falls out. Luke’s stuff scatters all over the floor; lighters, photos, a few tools, and a razorblade. He hates it when his shit gets disorganized and is going to go nuts if he comes back to this mess.

I quickly put everything back inside, trying to make it look orderly, and pretend not to notice the white elephant staring me in the face as I scoop it up off the floor. But it’s all I can think about as I hold it in my palm, begging myself not to use it.

My hand shakes as my mind drifts back to a time when I wasn’t like this; where I thought that maybe, just maybe, everything didn’t have to center around pain.

My older brother, Tyler and I were messing around in the garage. He was about sixteen and I was eight. He was working on a motorcycle he had bought with the money he’d saved up from his summer job.

“I know it’s kind of a piece of shit,” he said to me as he grabbed a wrench from the toolbox in the corner. “But it’ll get me places—away from here, which is all I f*cking want.”

He’d been fighting with my dad all day and had a giant bruise on his arm and cuts on his knuckles. I’d heard them arguing and then they were hitting each other. It was normal though. Life.

“Why do you want to leave?” I asked, wandering around the bike. It wasn’t shiny or anything, but it looked like it could be fun. And if it could take anyone away from here, then it had to be something special. “Is it because of dad?”

He tossed the tool back into the box rather hard and raked his hands through his long brown hair, which made him look like a homeless person, or at least my dad said so. “One day, buddy, when you get a little bit older, you’re going to realize that everything in this house is one f*cking big lie and you’re going to want to get the hell away from here, no matter what it costs.”

I stepped up on a crate and climbed on top of the bike, grabbing onto the handles as I swung my short leg over it. “Will you take me with you? I want to leave too.”