Brylee
“Jerk alert,” Aspen tells me quietly. We’re on our way to lunch, stopping for a minute to look at today’s menu.
“Gooooo bulldogs!” Scott cheers, throwing confetti up into the air, littering the hallway.
Crap. “Hi, Scott.”
Aspen gives him the side-eye. “Bye, Scott.”
He gives her a scowl. “You two aren’t pumped we made it into the championship?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, we don’t eat, drink, and smoke on the skill of your throwing arm.” Scott’s the quarterback. And captain. Of course. “And you won’t make friends with the janitor by throwing crap into the air like that.”
His eyes move to a bit of a glare. “I’m trying to be festive.”
I think that meant he’s trying to be celebratory.
He turns to me, a smile replacing the glare.
“So, Brylee there’s that dance after the pep rally on Friday.”
Aspen groans, but he ignores her.
“And I don’t have a date. Care to do the honors?” He asks like he expects me to giggle and clap my hands for joy.
OMM. He’s never actually asked me out before. Crap. “Uh-uhm. I think I have… plans.” I look at my best friend. Help!
But Aspen’s already on it. “Yeah. She’s planning on going to the new housing development to watch paint dry.”
He smiles. “Oh get real. I’m serious, Brylee. Why not come to the dance with me?” He reaches down and gets my hand. “We could have a good time.” His thumb brushes the back of my hand, making my skin crawl. I jerk free of his grasp.
“I’m busy.”
He reaches up and brushes some of my hair behind my shoulder. “We could go as friends.” His hand holds my shoulder like a claw. “It’ll be so much more fun if you’re there.”
I take a step back, pushing away his hand, and Aspen loses her temper.
“When are you ever going to get it? She’s not interested!”
He finally turns to her. “Who said anything about being ‘interested’? I’m asking her as a friend.”
“Ugh!”
I speak up. “If I’m just going to go with a friend, I’ll go with Aspen.”
She gives him what could only be called a Cheshire Cat grin. “There you are, then.” Her arm wraps around my waist. “Buzz off.”
He lets out a huff and rolls his eyes, ignoring her once more. “Brylee, okay, so I wasn’t asking as a friend. I don’t know why I said that. It’s just a dance, and it’s definitely more fun than whatever she’s got planned.”
Plum. I have to be blunt. “I’m sorry, Scott. No.”
He wilts for just a second before recovering. “Oh, sure, yeah. No problemo. I’ll just ask that freshman Jenna or whatever her name is. Whatever. Have fun watching paint dry.” He throws a scathing look in Aspen’s direction.
Aspen doesn’t let it go. “Anything’s more fun when you’re not around.”
Later, at lunch, I see that Scott did ask the other girl out, and she attaches herself to him like a tick. He keeps glancing over at me, and I’m irritated with myself how I keep glancing back. Ugh!
This evening, we have a small party for Elle and Brent as they age to teen.
Elle kind of looks like a mix of everyone and Brent… really looks like Uncle Mike.
Why does aging to teen have to be such a drastic change?
At any rate, we all go to a restaurant nearby, and towards the end of it, I step outside to get some air.
I’m pouting, and I can’t figure out why. It was a shock seeing my little sister and cousin age up, but is that a reason to pout? Am I having some weird mid-teen crisis thing like now I feel old?
I just feel… sad. And none of my little tricks are working right now.
Maybe it’s because I can feel adulthood creeping up on me, and with that comes adult life. As in, I’m probably going to get married and kids and stuff and then I’ll just get older then die. What’s the point?
And I don’t know if I want to get married. There’s not a single guy I could possibly imagine myself being interested in. I’m not even gaga over famous guys that girls at school drool over. I’ve never even wanted a boyfriend for plum’s sake!
There’s probably something wrong with me. That’s it. That’s nature telling me that I’m the end of the line for my bit of the family tree. I’m just too odd. My brain’s all screwed up.
Depression is a bitch.
I should probably get back inside. Mom and Dad are going to wonder where I am. I just had to escape Mom’s scrutiny for a few minutes. Whenever I get like this, she hones in like a vulture on carrion.
“Brylee?”
I jump and turn towards the voice. It’s Scott.
“Where did you come from?” he asks. “You don’t live around here, do you?” He sees the restaurant. “Oh yeah. Tony’s.”
“Yeah. It’s my little sister’s age up party.” I get up from the picnic table. “I should probably get back inside.”
“Before you do,” he calls out because I can’t walk away fast enough, “could I talk to you for a sec?”
I guess I’m just too nice. I can hear all the ways that Aspen would reply in a snarky way, but I just pause, turn to him, and ask, “What about?” Nice though I am, I still move a few steps back when he approaches me.
He notices, and he crosses his arms in front of himself.
“I want to talk about what happened before lunch today.”
Crap. “Scott, I just flat-out don’t want to go to the dance.”
“Then why not say that instead of letting Aspen do the talking for you?” Then he mutters under his breath, “Again.”
I look at his shoes. “I didn’t know what to say.”
He lets out a huff. “Brylee, we’ve been friends for years.” We have? “If Aspen’s bullying gets out of hand, you know you can come to me, right?”
I scowl. “What?” Since when is Aspen a bully? “She’s not.”
He unfolds his arms. “She’s not? She sucks up every second of your time. Haven’t you noticed you hardly spend any time with Cohen or Jessica? I can’t remember a time we’ve had a conversation where she wasn’t cutting in with her attitude. And you just let it happen like you approve. What kind of hold does she have on you? It’s getting to where you don’t do anything without first getting her approval.”
I give him a look. “I don’t need her approval. That’s ridiculous.”
“Then why let her talk to me like that? I get that she hates me, and I don’t care. But… do you hate me?” He folds his arms again.
“No, I don’t hate you.” I don’t particularly like him, though, but I don’t want to be mean. He creeps me out.
“Then don’t treat me like dirt, okay?”
“I wasn’t meaning to. Sorry.” I pause. “And I need to get back inside.” I try to walk past him, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist. I spin around in shock, pulling my wrist back, but he has a vice grip on it. He pulls me back to him.
“Why do you hate me?” he asks, reaching up and holding my cheek with his other hand.
“I don’t.” Well, I might.
“What did I do that makes you flinch every time I touch you?”
I pull on my arm again. “Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m not asking for it?” I remember back in middle school how I’d asked him to stop touching me and hating the hurt look on his face. He’d stopped, but over the past years, he’s gradually gone right back to the way he was when I was in seventh and he was in eighth grade.
“You’ve never had to ask.” He responds to my tugging. “Brylee, please, I’m holding you like this because I can never get you to talk to me otherwise. You always manage to slip away before I can get to it.” His grip loosens a fraction. “I’d hoped I could have a chance at the dance.”
“Scott…” I don’t know what to say exactly.
But he does.
“I adore you, Brylee. Ever since middle school. You’re so beautiful, and when you smile… Watcher, you light up the world. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to like me back. I’ve tried so many times to get your attention, get you to notice me. What more do I have to do?” He’s seconds from kissing me if I don’t do something.
“I don’t want a relationship right now.” Or maybe ever.
He stops his attempt to kiss me. “With anybody? Or just me?”
“I… don’t know.” No idea why I don’t just tell him.
He sighs. “Okay. I’ll wait.” A smile covers his face suddenly. “But so you know, you’re the one I want, so don’t believe anything else you see or hear. I don’t really care about Jenna. Trust me, all you have to do is snap your fingers, and I’m yours.”
A picture pops into my mind. “Well, wouldn’t the team be entertained by that?” I smirk.
He laughs. “I don’t care.”
I hear Dad call out my name. Phew. There’s a better excuse than just ‘leave me the plum alone.’ “I gotta go.”
“Okay.” He kisses my hand.
“Stop it,” I snap and successfully yank myself free. Then I watch his face fall.
“Sorry.”
I start to walk away, but Aspen’s voice in my head makes me stop. I can’t leave it at this. So, I turn to him. “Don’t wait for me, Scott. I’m not interested. I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that, and I doubt I ever will.” Well, that’s why I haven’t done it yet. The crushed expression on his face tears me up inside that I could do that to someone. I try so hard to fight off the sadness that I disadvantage myself when it comes to preventing hurt feelings anywhere.
I’m a monster. Why couldn’t I just do it better than that? I’ve spent so much trying to keep from hurting his feelings even though he’s always bothered me, but I can’t find another way to do it. And the fact that I can’t find another way to do it just proves that I’m a monster.
I make my way over to my family, carefully avoiding my parents’ eyes. I know they’re curious, but thank the Maker, they don’t ask questions.
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