Forever Changed

I had spent months hating him, wishing he would disappear off the face of the earth, and yet, somehow my anger for him had drained away.

“I’m sorry,” he said without turning around when our time was at the halfway mark.

“What?” I asked, not sure if he was talking to me even though we were alone.

“I said, I’m sorry,” he said, walking toward me.

“Me too, I kind of lost it Friday.”

He laughed, almost harshly. “I think you were entitled to lose it.”

“Not really. I’ve spent months blaming you for something that really wasn’t your fault. I guess I just needed someone to blame besides myself.”

“Kassandra, you weren’t wrong to blame me. I could've stopped him that day. I should've stopped him,” he said in the same defeated voice from Friday.

“How would you have stopped him?” I asked, more curious than I should have been.

“Just by talking I could've stopped him. It doesn't take much to provoke my dad,” he said bitterly.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, looking down.

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

We didn’t speak the rest of the time, but for once, the silence between us wasn’t suffocating.

We walked to the parking lot at the same time, not necessarily together, but close enough. The knots that had ravaged my gut at the beginning of detention had unraveled by the time we made our way to our cars. We didn't talk, but she lifted her chin in acknowledgement as she climbed into her SUV. I returned the nod and watched until she drove away.

I sank back against my car once she was out of sight. We had actually talked without her looking at me like she wanted to dip me in battery acid. I tried to control my heart rate. Just because she no longer wanted to hang me up by my toenails didn’t mean she suddenly shared my feelings for her.

I made the short drive home to my aunt’s house, smiling like a goon the entire way. I bounded up the three porch steps, iPod in hand, anxious to hit my room so I could rehash our conversation. My aunt was sitting on the living room couch when I let myself in. She clutched a letter in her hand and looked up at me with wide eyes.

“Great, what now?” I asked, sensing it was something bad.

“We got a letter from your father’s public defender. He wants to know if we will speak as character witnesses on his behalf.”

“Um, let me think about it. Hell NO,” I said sarcastically.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “It could help him.”

“Exactly,” I said, making my point clear. “I couldn't care less if his ass rots away in jail for the rest of his life.”

“You might change your mind later on down the road,” she said quietly.

“Dolores, I’m not going to change my mind,” I said exasperated. “Maybe he'll finally dry out,” I added, my mood significantly soured as I made my way to my room. I thought it was classic that he dared to ask for my help. After all the crap he had thrown my way over the years, all the poundings and he expected me to rescue him?

Frustrated, I threw myself on the bed and tried to dredge up the happy feelings I had before I walked through the front door. I pulled up the image in my mind of how Kassandra had looked at me in the auditorium without anger for the first time. How the corners of her mouth had pulled up slightly, like she was on the verge of smiling. Her lips were one of my favorite features, and I had spent a ridiculously insane amount of time thinking about them. Slowly, the anger and frustration left as I entertained ideas of what I would like to do with her lips at that exact moment.

I felt an odd mixture of apprehension and something akin to anxiousness the next day when I got to school. For months, the campus was the place where I might have to see him, which forced me to deal with my demons. But he was no longer an it presence. He had a name, Maddon. I rolled the name around in my head, remembering his confessions from the day before. It floored me, knowing that he dealt with the same inner turmoil that I did.

I walked through the doors, feeling lighter than I had in months. The weight of my "if onlys" had lifted. I no longer had to worry about what I would do if I saw Maddon, or what I would say to him. We’d crossed that bridge.

Colton was once again waiting by my locker. “Well, this is turning into a habit,” I said, giving him a smile.

“Wow, Kass, I think that’s the first legit smile you’ve had in months. What brought that on?”

I started to shrug my shoulders, ready to retreat back into my protective shell, but decided to be honest. “Things are just starting to feel a little less dramatic,” I said, closing my locker door.

“I bet. It was total suckage about your dad. I’d give you mine,” he joked.