Regret List (15 page)

“Nurse,” he explained. “You know, you’re going to
have a pretty nasty bump on the back of your head.”

I grimaced. “Gross.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go feeling too sorry for
yourself.” He doubled over in laughter. “You poor soul.”

“Shut up!” I flailed my good hand at him, but he was
sitting on my other side this time.

“See, I learned my lesson,” he said, sitting back
with his hands behind his head. I heard his phone vibrate in his
pocket and he pulled it out, flipping it open with a cocky grin.
“Hey, some of my friends want to know if you’re dead.”

I laughed and one of the paramedics frowned at me.
“Stop moving around so much. You’re going to make your injuries
worse.”

“Should I tell them you’re in a coma?”

“Yeah, suggest that they take bets on when or if I’ll
wake up.” We both grinned at each other and for a few minutes, I
forgot where we were headed. But then, the ambulance slowed and
reality returned. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead,
threatening to drip down my temples. “Now you can’t even hold my
hand,” I moaned, wiping my good hand across my face.

“I bet he’d hold your hand.” Asher gestured at the
paramedic who sat opposite him, but his face softened a little when
he saw how much distress I was in.

“I hate you,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. Before I
was even close to being ready, we had stopped, the doors had
opened, and I was being removed from the relative safety of the
ambulance. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I knew it was his, even
without opening my eyes.

“No, you don’t,” he replied quietly as we bounced
along. The brightness against my eyelids dimmed suddenly and I knew
we were inside the hospital. “Hey, your mom’s here already.”

I opened my eyes, but couldn’t see her until she
leaned over me, looking frantic. “You must’ve driven like crazy to
get here before the ambulance,” I said lightly, trying to keep the
anxiousness from my voice.

“Paige!” she wailed, clutching her hands over her
mouth. “The nurse said a girl pushed you down the stairs at
school!”

“It was an accident, Mom. I’m fine,” I protested,
sighing at the scene she was making, and reluctant to explain
exactly why I had been pushed down the stairs. “Seriously.” She
reached for my bad hand and I snatched it away, holding it
protectively to my chest. “Except for that!”

She looked horrified and I felt Asher pat my
shoulder. “You poor, poor soul. All busted up.”

“I really do hate you,” I insisted. I was handed off
to a nurse, who stuck us in a tiny cubicle-like room.

“Thank you,” my mom said suddenly. I was about to ask
her what she was thanking me for when I realized she was talking to
Asher.

“Uh, no problem,” he said, running a hand through his
hair.

Before she could continue, I was whisked off to check
out my wrist and head. I’m not sure what Asher and my mom talked
about while I was away, but I can only imagine how awkward it was
for the two of them. I think he must have spent most of the time
writing because by the time I left with a broken wrist and a bump
to the head, he was ready to hand the notebook back over to me. He
also demanded on being the first to sign his name on my cast in
giant block letters that took up most of the space.

Really, the hospital wasn’t
that
bad and
everyone was really nice, but I still felt a huge weight lift off
my shoulders when I stepped into the fresh air of the outdoors.
Asher put an arm around my shoulders. “You see, that wasn’t so
bad,” he said brightly.

I held up my wrist. “Uh, you’re not the one with a
broken wrist,” I pointed out. “But yeah, it wasn’t too awful.”
After dropping Asher off at his house, I realized my mom was
remaining strangely silent. “What’s up, Mom?”

She just pinched her mouth up in a troubled look.
“What happened to Jason?”

“What do you mean?” I dug in my pocket for my phone.
“I suppose I should let him know what’s going on. I think Asher has
been spreading rumors that I’m in a coma.” I giggled and started
flicking through all the texts and calls I had missed, asking if I
was okay.

She shook her head, still looking displeased. “Don’t
you think you should back off things with Asher a little if you
have a boyfriend?”

I laughed as I sent a Jason a text, assuring him that
I was okay. “Relax, Mom. We’re just friends.” Now, I think you and
I can both agree that that was not the case, and I even knew it at
the time. I might have not admitted it out loud to myself, but I
was happier than I had been in a long time. I hadn’t even truly
realized how much I missed Asher – just the closeness we shared,
where I felt like he was the most important person in my life.

I’ve thought a lot about bullies since that whole
incident. I think I was lucky. I’ve heard about a lot of people who
get bullied no matter what happens. It doesn’t matter how injured
they get, who else tries to step in, it just gets worse and worse.
Some people keep being bullied until they stand up for themselves,
and sometimes that doesn’t even work. Kandice was only suspended
for about a week, but neither she nor Sammy ever bothered me again
after that incident at school. Maybe bullying only stops when it
goes further than the bully intended. For Kandice and Sammy, that
was sending me to the hospital. Like I said, I was lucky.

That’s why, for a few weeks, everything seemed
perfect. I started eating lunch with Asher and his friends, Jason
worried over me and carried my books from class to class, and
everyone wanted to know what had happened and what my ride in the
ambulance had been like. For a few weeks, life was awesome and
everything seemed to be falling into place. But then, this wouldn’t
be much of a story if everything stayed perfect, would it? This
next part is the worst part of the story for me. It all fell apart
on Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day started with a mysterious message.
This was my first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend, so I was
excitedly awaiting something like this. Because it was a Saturday,
I was still lounging in bed when a text message vibrated my phone.
With a stretch, I slipped on my glasses and read the message.
Strangely enough, it came from an anonymous number, probably from
one of those websites online that’s intended for people who don’t
own cell phones.

Look out your window.

Grinning, I bounded over to the window and peered
outside. Red lava rocks were piled in the shape of an arrow against
the dirt, pointing down the street. It was still cold outside, so I
quickly bundled up and hurried outside, anxious to see what Jason
had planned for us. I nearly ran into my mom on the front porch.
“What is all this?” she asked, sounding irritated.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Mom. I’ll clean it up later.”
I thought that with all her dates, she’d understand this kind of
thing, but she just sighed and headed indoors.

“Well, stay safe,” she said, closing the door behind
her.

I plodded down the sidewalk, avoiding the snow drifts
that still piled up against trees and mailboxes. I stopped at the
end of the block, not sure which way to turn, but a glimmer of
something sparkling caught my eye. A heart-shaped metallic balloon
was caught in the tree and reaching up to untangle it, I realized
it was tied to a branch. On my tiptoes, I untied the balloon and
pulled it free. A note was attached to the string.

I have some books to return. Meet me at the
library.

Wishing I had grabbed my bike, I continued walking,
tying the balloon around my wrist.
The library, huh? Not exactly
the most romantic of locations, but whatever.
Half a mile
later, I entered the library, happy to get out of the cold. I stood
for a moment in the lobby, looking around for Jason. Instead, one
of the librarians caught my eye. “Red balloon,” she said. “You must
be Paige.”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, walking over to her desk.

“I was told to give you this.” She smiled
conspiratorially and handed me a book. “It’s already checked
out.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!” I waved and bounded back toward
the door, ready to head back into the cold.

“It’s due back in two weeks!” she yelled after
me.

Back outside, I stared at the book for a moment,
leaning against the bike racks.
What am I supposed to do with
this?
I hadn’t read it before. It was entitled “Journey of a
Girl” which was rather fitting, but not particularly useful. I
flipped through the pages and something bright flashed by, standing
out against the cream-colored pages. Carefully paging through the
book until I found the spot of color, I discovered a bright pink
sticky-note with an arrow pointing at one of the sentences.

I found her at the coffee shop, dunking a blueberry
muffin in a cup of hot chocolate.

Swiveling on my feet, I looked around at the other
stores nearby. Across the street, a little coffee shop was bustling
with happy couples having a relaxed morning coffee. Tucking the
book under my arm, I sprinted across the street with my balloon
trailing behind me. I waited patiently in line until the harried
barista asked for my order. Realizing I didn’t even have my wallet
with me, I panicked until her eyes blinked into focus and she
noticed my balloon.

“Oh, it’s you! The balloon girl!” She shouted at her
coworker to make a hot chocolate, and then handed over a blueberry
muffin on a plate. “No charge,” she assured me.

I sat down at a table, laying the book and muffin
down in front of me while I waited, wondering what was next.
“Balloon girl!” I heard the coffee guy yell. I hurried back across
the coffee shop, apologizing when my balloon bounced off someone’s
head. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. As I lifted it up to
my lips, something about the cup caught my eye, and I held it out,
shifting my fingers a little. In the space where they normally
wrote the type of drink, something else was written. Another
message.

Turn around.

My heart pounding for some reason, I slowly turned
around, ready to throw my arms around Jason for the fun morning.
When I didn’t immediately see him, I blinked, trying to focus on
what I d
id
see. Asher stood there, staring at me with an
expression I had never seen on his face. Confusion washed over me
as the music, the conversation, everything else faded away except
that weird look on Asher’s face.

Slowly, he brought his hand up in front of him,
extending his thumb, index finger, and pinky. He was signing three
letters at once: I, L, and Y.
I love you.
Even if I didn’t
know the sign, I could see it in his eyes. Remember what Grace
said, about the “spark”? I had no idea what she was talking about
at the time, but I saw it then as I had seen it hundreds of times
before. This time, I recognized it for what it was.

Something else Grace said suddenly made sense in that
moment. I finally understood why she said she had never seen a hint
of a spark in my eyes for Jason. She was specific about that.
“Not for Jason, anyway.”
Because now that I could see it, I
could feel it too. I knew I was giving Asher the same look. I knew
I had been giving him that look for a long time. There is a reason
nearly every memory includes him at my side.

Slowly, I brought my hand up in the same sign.
I
love you, too.
And for one absolutely perfect moment, Asher’s
face lit up and he moved toward me. Then, my hand dropped, reality
crashed back in, and I burst into tears. “I can’t be with you,” I
sobbed.

Looking horrified, Asher glanced around and I knew
everyone must be staring. Setting the hot chocolate down on the
nearest table, I ran from the coffee shop, getting stuck for a
second in the doorway when my balloon caught on the frame.
Absolutely desperate to get away from there, I wrenched my hand out
of the loop and sprinted away, slipping on the ice and nearly
falling on my other wrist, still in its cast. Instead, I managed to
land on my butt and I just sat there for a moment, temporarily
lacking the strength to get back up. Rubbing my sleeve against my
face, I tried to wipe away all the tears and snot, knowing I looked
like a disaster.

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. Carefully
picking myself up and collapsing on a nearby bench, I dug it out of
my pocket and tried to read the message through my tears. It was
from Asher and read very simply:
Never happened.

I thought that might be okay, that maybe we could
continue just being friends, but evidently, that message meant a
lot more than t
oday
never happened. I didn’t hear from him
for the rest of the weekend. Believe me, I considered telling him
why I insisted on going out with Jason, but that would mean I had
to tell him the whole story about my dad. Admitting to exactly what
my dad had done was just too horrifying. I didn’t want Asher to
look at me and see a murderer’s daughter. They say you grow up to
be an awful lot like your parents and seeing Addiction and Suicide
already stamped on that card was more than enough for me.

Instead, I was just left with that image of Asher,
looking shocked as I burst into tears and ran out of the coffee
shop. With no other communication from him, I spent the weekend
writing, hoping I could make it up to him in some other way. At
least there was still that one thing that bonded us together. I put
all my energy into writing our book and only hoped it would be
enough.

I should say something before we continue, though. It
would be so incredibly easy to say that Jason forgot about
Valentine’s Day, treated me like an afterthought, and write him off
as a lousy boyfriend. I know now that going out with him because of
my guilt was an absolutely horrible idea and it would be so much
easier to tell you that it wasn’t that big of a deal, because he
didn’t care so much about me anyway. But like I said earlier, I’m
going to tell you the truth, even when it makes me look bad. Jason
was awesome. He dropped by later on Valentine’s Day, all dressed
up, and gave me a box of chocolate and a necklace. I still looked
like a blotchy mess and I lied, telling him I wasn’t feeling well,
so I didn’t have to invite him in.