From Me To You Read online

  “Beth,” I try to smile at her, “You look – different.”

  “Hell yes I do,” she clicks her tongue at me. She does this when she’s upset or in disagreement with something I do. “Ana Poppy, you know I have to change at some point. I have to make myself look pretty for the college boys. It’s our last year, we have to do things for ourselves for a change. I can’t be seen wearing blue-jeans and supporting an anime t-shirt.”

  That felt like a low blow and a serious jab at me. Before last summer started she and I pretty much had the same fashion sense. If we really wanted to feel fancy we threw a cardigan over that shit and called it a day. She never actually showed any interest in these sort of things before, so what happened over the last couple months?

  She didn’t necessarily look unhappy. She just had too much cleavage showing, and I was sure she was going to break her ankles in those strappy shoes of hers. But that’s not my problem, that’s all on her. If she wanted to suddenly be a different person, who am I to change her back to how she used to be?

  “Don’t take any offense to it, Ana Poppy. I don’t mean any harm. I just want to look more grown-up and sophisticated.” She pats my cheek, then flounces down the hall to her next class.

  I should probably explain why she calls me Ana Poppy. Poppy is my middle name. The only thing mom insisted when she dropped me off with my dad as a new born was that my name should be Analyse after my great-great-great whatever grandmother. Dad wanted to name me Poppy after his favorite plant. Beth doesn’t like to have to call me Ana – she says that it’s not fair that I have to have a name that means nothing to anyone except a person that wants nothing to do with me. I told her it’s okay, dad calls me Ana. It’s a perfectly alright name. So, she called me Ana Poppy. Mainly to appease the both of us.

  I did my duty and wandered from class to class. All we did all morning was revisit what we had already gone through last year. My Lit teacher almost had her first meltdown when she couldn’t get people to stop talking.

  Mainly, it was just a very loud “Shut the fuck up, you little shits.” Until one of the other teachers had to come in a forcibly remove her before she started throwing things again. This happens a lot. We’re all pretty much used to it by now.

  I was happy when lunch time came around. I went through the line and got soggy tatter tots and even soggier pizza – I just drowned it in ranch and went on with my time. Who cares what the food looks like as long as it’s edible, right?

  “You know, you could look so pretty if you just did something with this hair,” I glanced up and Beth was standing next to me. Her hands were moving before I could protest and she had my hair out of the braid it was in.

  “Beth this morning I literally had time to crawl out of my bed before my dad threw a shit-fit and drive to school. I’m not getting up super early to slap a bunch of artificial shit all over my face just because everyone is going to think it’s pretty.” I take a bite out of my pizza and grimace.

  Beth clicks her tongue, “You’re just saying that because you happened to land a super hot boyfriend.”

  I look back at her again, wrinkling my eyebrows together, “Beth, what if I was to tell you that I want to break up with him?”

  “Can I ask ‘why’ first?” She sits down across from me. For the first time all morning I see the old Beth come through.

  “Because,” I blow out an exasperated breath, “Because I feel like if we stay together now we’re going to stay together forever and get married and have kids. But I don’t love him… Right now the only reason why I’m still with him is because I am scared to hurt his feelings. He’s such a great friend, but we should never have dated in the first place. We don’t really care whether we date or not.”

  She leans against her hands and gives me a steady look, “Basically what you’re saying is you’re not happy where you are anymore?”

  “Exactly! But every time I have tried to say something to him, he just gives me that dopey-ass smile and acts like I’m the best person in the world and it makes me feel horrible.”

  Beth laughs, “Yeah, he does have a dopey-ass smile. And a cute ass dimple. Girl, do you want me to just tell him that you want to break up?”

  I sigh, “No, I need to do it myself. I’m a big girl. I can break up with a boy. I mean, I’m sure we can go back to being friends, right? It’s not like we actually do things as a couple. Everything will be fine.”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anyone.” Beth says. I look at her the same way I was looking at my soggy pizza a minute ago and she clicks her tongue again. “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

  “So,” I say trying to change the subject, “You’re on the warpath to turn our school into a redo of Mean Girls now?”

  Beth laughs, “Hell yes I am.”

  ***

  I’m going to do it.

  I can do it.

  I got this, right?

  My brain was going nuts after I made my way back to the parking lot after school. Jet was already outside leaning against his truck surrounded by his friends, like he hadn’t moved from this morning.

  “I need to talk to you,” Wow, I sounded a lot more ballsy than what I was feeling.

  Jet looked at me and smiled like he always did, “Sure, babe.”

  I look around at all of his friends, “Um, alone?”

  The smile on his face slowly fades and he says something to the guy closest to him. We watch as they wander away, shouting at him that they would see him in a little bit.

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms across my chest. It was a total defensive pose, but I wasn’t sure how else to stand without looking like I was going to bolt.

  “Jet… We need to break up,” I choke out.

  His face freezes like he can’t process what I was saying, “Ana… what?”

  “We need to break up. Jet, I do love you. But weren’t we so much happier as friends? I mean, we started dating as a spur of the moment sort of thing.” I feel more confident now. I reach out and put my hand on his arm and he grabs my wrist.

  “You can’t break up with me, Ana!” He looks pissed, and his hand is tightening around my wrist.

  “Jet, you’re starting to hurt me.” I try to sound rational, but it was hard when he was consistently tightening around my wrist.

  “Let her go, man.” A soft voice came from behind my head and Jet looks up – his nostrils flaring in anger.

  “Who the hell are you?” He demands. I’m trying to place it. The voice sounded so familiar.

  “Her knight in shining armor, fuck-face. Let her go.”

  Seriously, the voice sounded so familiar.

  Jet scoffed and let go of me, “Ana we’ll talk about this later.” He got in his truck and pulled out of the parking space.

  I slowly turned around, rubbing the sore spot on my wrist.

  Ian had a concerned look on his face. His gray eyes dark as night.

  His face slowly cracks into a smile, “Hiya, Analyse.

  Chapter 3

  I’m Too Anxious For This

  “So, meat-head is the boyfriend – sorry, ex-boyfriend, huh?” Ian said talking between chewing. Somehow we ended up at McDonald’s. I just had a coffee in front of me, but I didn’t actually want it.

  This is awkward. I don’t know what to say to him.

  Hey, thanks for getting me out of an awkward situation, see ya!

  I knew I couldn’t just do that, which is when he said we should go get something to eat I didn’t really object. Now I was watching as Ian shoved french fries in his mouth and tried to fit his gangling body under the table. His knee connected with the underside and he cussed under his breath. I couldn’t help but giggle a little.

  “Yeah, he was my boyfriend. Before that he was a good friend for a long time. We messed up trying to make ourselves more than what we actually are.” I tell him. I don’t actually know why I’m telling him. He’s not a friend or anything, but of course that may be why it was so easy for me to say.

  He thinks and chews some more, “But is that really a cause to grab you like that? Ma’am, as a feminist I’m going to have to say I don’t approve of such behavior.”

  I wrinkle my nose, “I don’t think you have to be a feminist to feel that way, you know?”

  Ian smiles and his upper lip disappears, “Let’s be friends.”

  I choke on my coffee, “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, I want to be your friend. What do you say? I save you from having your arm torn off, you sometimes acknowledge the fact I exist?”

  I laugh, “Why should I do that? I do appreciate the fact you helped me, twice. But I don’t know you. I have literally met you two times. You’re a good guy. But you don’t want to be friends with me.”

  That insufferable smile is still stretched across his face, “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, you heard me.”

  I roll my eyes and slide my phone across the table.

  He picks it up and puts his number in it. “I’m not going to have you give me your number, though.” He says, sliding my phone back to me.

  I look at him confused, “Then what was the point in you giving me your phone number?”

  “Because you are going to text me first.” He says.

  “What makes you say that?” I demand.

  “I knew I wanted to be your friend from the moment I saw you, Analyse. But I’m not going to make you be something you don’t want to be. So, I’ll wait patiently until you are ready to be my friend.” He shrugs, like it’s the most rational thing in the world and I feel bad.

  I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder, “I suck at texting. I don’t know how to be friends w
ith people, so I’m sorry if I don’t exactly meet expectations. I’m going home now.”

  His eyes are the brightest gray I had ever seen, and it’s starting to bother me, “You’ll come around, my dude.”

  ***

  Dad wasn’t there when I got home. He works late in the summers. He goes out and lays down mulch and digs holes all day. He does what he loves and sometimes he comes in at 10 at night, tracking mud and whatever into the house. I have to wash his clothes separate from mine when I do laundry just because it causes a muddy mess every time.

  By time dad did roll up he was so covered in mud and muck I insisted on hosing him down outside first. His sandy blonde hair was sticking up and clumps of dirt was caked in.

  By time I let him inside – after thoroughly yelling at him to leave his boots outside – he was muttering and talking about how if he was the one to have any say in anything, he would walk through his own damn house. He looked at me in realization that he is the parent, but I gave him a look and he scurried off to the bathroom.

  I had just finished making dinner – just some salad. A neighbor had brought over a bunch of vegetables from their garden over the weekend and I wasn’t sure what else to do with all of it.

  “How was your day?” Dad asked. He filled his bowl up and sat at the table across from me.

  I picked at the hole that was starting in my jeans, “Jet and I broke up.”

  Dad tried to look shocked for my sake, but his face couldn’t quite do it. “Sorry, Ana.”

  “No, no, I broke up with him, actually.” I reassure him.

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to do that. It sucks.” He shoved food in his mouth. I was reminded of earlier with Ian.

  “I mean, I did see that one guy again, though.” I say. I try to make it sound as nonchalant as possible.

  Dad raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, he sort of caught the tail end of our conversation and helped me make my grand escape. We had a talk and he said he would like to be friends.”

  “Well, that’s great! Be his friend!” Dad sounded enthusiastic.

  I sigh, “I don’t want to make new friends, dad. The ones I have are already enough trouble. Beth is now going through a “we have to make ourselves look perfect for boys” phase, and I was told so many times today that I could get pretty if I actually tried.”

  Dad nods, “Sounds like Beth.”

  I finished my dinner, washed my dishes, and kissed dad on top of the head before heading upstairs and closing myself into my sanctuary. I had enough of people today. I threw myself down on my couch and looked at the orangish-pink light of the sunset cast shadows along the ceiling. I loved sunsets. I wish I could paint, so I could just sit outside in the backyard and paint them all. Just sunsets over and over, always changing.

  I always imagined my mom was a painter. That she gave me up to live out her dreams to travel the world and paint everything she could to show me, then she would come home and be my mom again.

  But I don’t know what she’s doing or where she’s at.

  I shake my head and decided not to think about it anymore. I pull my book off the table where I left it yesterday. I started reading that book Ian recommended to me, and I have to admit that I really do enjoy it. I should have told him thanks for telling me about it earlier.

  I was contemplating texting him. I don’t know why I wanted to. I wanted to also bash my head in and call it a day.

  Reading my book also wasn’t going to happen today either. I was too focused on how the characters in the book were busy falling in love. I wasn’t sure how anyone thought love could be so simple in the books. Well, I suppose it wasn’t always easy. There’s the whole forbidden love thing. I once read a book about two people who found out they were siblings after they fell in love – now that was messed up.

  Real life love was never what people actually thought it was supposed to be. It sucks. Nobody actually loves you as much as they say they do. If they did this world would be a better place and probably more peaceful. Although, I guess things like passionate love are different from parental love. I know my dad loves me, but like when Jet told me he loved me, I knew he didn’t actually mean it. It was just words that people say.

  God, I was depressing myself.

  I got up off the couch and tossed my book down. Screw it, I’m going to go take a bath.

  Can I just say: baths are the freaking bomb.

  Like I have this moment of the day where I can fully submerge myself in a garden bath full of hot liquid that I can throw like bath bombs and shit in to make it even better? I feel like a freaking mermaid every damned time I sit down in it.

  I take baths mainly though cause I’m too damned tall to fit under the shower head.

  I sat in the tub and put my hair in the water and watched as it floats around me.

  Freaking. Mermaid.

  ***

  I was sitting in the car with my windows down and blasting music. I hoped I woke up the neighbor bitch with all the little chihuahuas that nipped at my ankles. It would serve her right.

  I had to figure out how exactly to face Jet. Like, do I? Do I try to like, go up to him and be all Hey, Jet, nice to see you after I broke up with you yesterday and I think you may have tried to break my wrist. How are you, buddy? I’d rather choke and die.

  I fretted over it the entire way to school. The ten minute drive felt like it took eternity. I pulled into the parking lot and parked as far away from Jet and his gang as possible. I just couldn’t face him – not today. When he was comfortable coming to me and talking, he would. I was sure of it. I sat in my car and fought with myself on whether I should just go back home. Sweat was dripping down my face, it was starting to get humid in here. I pulled my glasses off my face – I didn’t feel like fighting with my contacts today – and wiped my face with my shirt collar.

  So classy. So lady like. I’m the picture of grace.

  I got out of the car. I had to do it today, I suppose. I grabbed my bag out of the backseat and straightened my back. If I have to go into the war zone today, I was doing it with my head held high.

  I could feel them.

  The eyes.

  I knew who’s too. The group of people hanging around Jets truck had gone silent as I walked past. Their silence was almost more deafening than the noise. I kept my eyes forward though, I wasn’t going to let it get to me.

  No matter what.

  ***

  I was standing next to my locker, trying to remember if I had put my lunch in my bag or not. I had packed myself a PB&J, and I was going to be super pissed if I had forgotten it at home. My luck dad would have taken it and eaten it for breakfast, because he has no self-control when it comes to food.

  “Who is he?” Jet shuts my locker door and leans against it. He had this amazing ability to be the biggest asshole I’ve ever seen sometimes. I sigh and flip my hair over my shoulder.

  “Who is who?” I ask, aggravated.

  “What’s-his-name from yesterday. The one who interrupted our conversation. That’s the one.” He’s doing that thing where he’s working his jaw and it distracts me for a moment. I never denied that Jet wasn’t attractive. Especially after the coach started making him bulk up more before football seasons.

  “You mean Ian? Just a – friend.” I say “friend” hesitantly. I wasn’t actually sure how to label him. I couldn’t say he was practically a stranger to me anymore, not after he had helped me yesterday.

  “Hmm, well I didn’t appreciate what he did.” Jet put his hand on my back, “Ana, you didn’t mean what you said yesterday, right? You’re still my girl.”

  “You get that I can still be your friend, right? Like, that’s not a totally taboo thing to do. We tried – it just didn’t work.”

  “Yeah, but maybe that’s not what I want.” He whined.

  I looked at him square in the face. Sometimes you had to treat him like he was 5-years-old again and wasn’t getting what he wanted. “We. Are. Broken. Up.”