She made no move to come closer to me, but seemed to only be polite and cordial.

“That was a great duet,” she ventured.

I stared at her a few moments before turning my gaze back toward the darkening horizon. You could barely see the sun casting its fiery, blood-kissed arms of light into the panoramic evening sky. It had turned a hazy purplish-red, the blues mixing with the lingering tendrils of sunlight, turning it into a chaotic kaleidoscope of colors. It was exactly what I was feeling at that moment; a jumble of ricocheting pinballs inside my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Nodding my head slightly, I replied,”Yeah, it was, but of course, you carried us through it all.”

“No, I think you’re the one who moved the audience,” she whispered quietly.

“Oh? I see. I guess there was just something that I could empathize with,” I murmured.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean it to end up that way,” she blurted out. Her eyes began to sparkle and shine, as tears began to form at the edges of her eyes. Her face was a mask of sadness, fighting to hold back the eruption of grief.

“Hey, it’s ok. You can’t help what you feel. That’s just the way things are, that’s all.”

“Do you forgive me?” she asked hesitantly, wiping her face to prevent the waterworks from exploding.

“I don’t know, Jess. It still hurts, but I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m not sure exactly. I just don’t know…” I murmured.

She took a couple of steps closer and stood facing me. “Are we friends? I guess I can’t expect you to say ‘yes’, but I hope that one day, we can be friends again.” Her voice cracked with the strain. Within those words I detected an echoing heartbreak, and I almost caved in. I still cared about her well-being and I never liked to see someone I cared for in such pain, even though she had unintentionally created the tornado that we got sucked into.

“Yeah, maybe, one day.” My tone was sorrowful, but edged with a certain hardness. I didn’t want to let her back in. We had always been good friends, but I couldn’t totally forgive her transgressions. That chaotic entanglement had crushed me; more than I would ever admit. And the wounds had barely begun to scab over.

They still itched daily.

The space between us became silent, enveloping us, and blocked out the chatter of the others mingling around. The distress clung to her like strands of matted, wet hair. The disquiet threatened to punch a hole in her mask, and would have capsized the boat of liquid crystals that was desperately trying to stay afloat. I looked up and took a deep breath. Breathing a sigh, I started to speak.

“Hey, big brotherrrrr…” my sister sang.

Her voice snapped me out of my trance, and I looked over to see her bounding toward me with two of her friends in tow. She didn’t notice Jess, or my somber mood, and ran up to me excitedly.

“Hey, guess what?” she crowed.

Before I could even open my mouth, she blew right up to me like an electrifying whirlwind. “Mom and dad have a surprise for you! Guess what it is? Guess!”

I knew my sister, and I knew her well. That’s why I never answered any of her rhetorical questions because before I could ever respond, she’d end up telling me anyway. Looking at her, I raised a questioning eyebrow and that was the only signal she needed before she let loose.

“They’re sending you to France!” She was practically jumping up and down with glee, even though she wouldn’t be going along. She was simply excited because she could break the news to me, her all-knowing brother.

“Wha? Europe? France?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah! France, Switzerland and I forgot the other place. Dad said that Aunt and Uncle, along with Lynn are going this summer and they asked if you would like to go. Dad thought that it’d be good for you to get out there and understand and appreciate other countries, or something like that.” She was almost tearing apart at the seams with giddiness.

She always had a habit of speed talking when she was excited. Often, only people who were familiar with her speech patterns could follow her vocalizations. There were times when even our parents got confused when she got going. I was used to her jabbering though, being able to filter out all the extraneous information, leaving me with the essential parts.

“Ahhh, I see.” I replied.

This was part of my father’s philosophy. The only way for one to learn and grow, is to go out there and experience it for themselves. To learn, you must be given the chance and then what you do with that chance is up to you, but you shouldn’t waste it. He didn’t believe in coddling or the easy path. There was no easy path or shortcuts to achieving greatness, or success. You worked hard and tried your best, even when you’re lost and alone. If you dig yourself a hole, you pull yourself out of it.

I knew my father and the ideology that he dished out, although I didn’t often follow it at the time. I was young, stupid and immature. But as I would later grow into adulthood, I would truly understand and appreciate the enormous gift he had given me.

“So? You want to go or not? Mom and Dad are talking to people and wanted me to find you and ask you what you wanted to do.”

My sister’s question snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Sure, I guess I can go. It’s gonna just be Aunt, Uncle, Lynn and me?” I queried. “You’re not coming?”

She responded with a snort. “Nope! I’ve got soccer camp and practice this summer and I’m not going to miss that.”

“Yeah, go tell Mom and Dad that I’ll go. There’s not much left for me here.” I said, casting a sideways glance at Jess, who was still standing there, watching our exchange.

Why not go? Thinking about it, I realized that I needed a change. I needed to get away from this burden, and by the time I came back, maybe this would all be over and done with. Then there was the new start next year, in high school.

“Ok! I’ll see you later big brotherrrrr…” she yelled back toward me, as she ran off.

“So I guess you’re going to Europe this summer,” Jess said quietly. “I guess it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, I guess so. After all, it is Europe. I don’t get to go that often, you know. I’ve gotta run now.”

I hopped off the stage and turned to go. Grabbing my arm, she stopped me from walking away.

“Send me a postcard when you’re there, ok? I’ve never been to France before.”

“Sure thing,” I said, while nodding. “I’ll see you later, Jess.”

Walking away, I glanced back at her silent silhouette, and thought I saw falling tears. It could have been my imagination, because there was nothing left for me here.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Melody and harmony. The cascading chords wafted through the air, gently borne on the effortless strength of well-trained voices. Notes floated and settled on the hands and faces of our parents and loved ones, covering them like a blanket of breeze-blown scented petals. The lingering notes swirled and embraced the listeners, as they found purchase in their hearts.

The sound of clapping echoed through the auditorium as the song ended. My eyes swept across the crowd, anticipating what was to happen next. Climbing down the steps, I made my way to the front of the assembled choir. Spotting Jess, I noticed her picking her way through her section, choosing a path to where I stood.

When she reached me, we each took a mic in our hands and waited for the cues from our conductor. I looked at her, trying to catch her eye, but she hardly paid any attention to me. She kept rubbing her fingers together, trying to dissolve the nervousness that showed in her posture. Finally peeking up at me, I tried to reassure her with a smile, but she didn’t seem to notice. Seeing me watching her, she looked away, embarrassed and rubbed her hands together.

A quizzical expression crossed my face, as a question flashed through my mind. What was she thinking? But before I could explore that thought further, the piano started playing. Almost losing my cue during that brief lapse in concentration, I opened my mouth just in time.

Lining up in a room off to one side of the auditorium, we waited for our cues. There was still a flurry of activity, last minute preparations and fine-tuning, because this was to be our last performance of the year. Parents, family members and friends had already filed in and filled many of the seats, then passed the time by greeting each other and talking among themselves. When we finally climbed onto that open-air stage, I looked out across the expansive space at the audience sitting there, waiting.

A cool, late-spring breeze swept by, bringing with it the smell of freshly cut grass and budding flowerbeds. The bright evening sky was was unusually warm for that time of year, considering that summer was not yet upon us. Tugging at my freshly-pressed collar of my shirt and tie, I tried to stay comfortable, but still wasn’t used to dressing up for such events.

We had been warming up in an adjacent room for the last hour, waiting for this concert to start. Everyone felt it, the palpable tension that fill the air. For the 8th graders including me, this was to be our crowning achievement, the last few pieces that we would ever perform before we moved onto high school.

Mounting those bleacher steps took more effort than I expected. My feet were struggling to find their place, just like the emotional tremors trying to find their place within my chest. Looking toward my left, I could see Jess among the other sopranos, fidgeting and looking ill-prepared for our very last concert of our middle school careers.

The look on her face didn’t betray her feelings much, but I knew her well enough to be able to tell that she wasn’t comfortable or happy. Something was bothering her, and the stress showed, if you knew where to look. I wondered if the audience could see through my facial facade and read the tell-tale signs of anxiety I was also experiencing.

As my mind wondered about mundane details, I calmed a bit. Looking around, I tried to take in the entire scene before me. The sight, the sounds and the vibes permeating the air. Turning my head, I caught Jess looking at me, so I raised an eyebrow and gave her a friendly smirk, as she quickly looked away and resumed her stoic composure.

I wondered if she was thinking about the same thing that I was.

Nah, she couldn’t be.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Sitting on somewhat damp and cold wooden benches, I looked out across the field of green grass tipped with sparkling shards of morning dew. Sporadic growths of wild grass and weeds peppered the landscape, pushing through the damp earth, spreading out their leaves and clutching at the dim morning rays of sunshine. The morning chill’s bite caressed my face, leaving it tingling and ruddy with blood pumped from the inner coils of my core, pushing the cold away.

Remembering the madness that swept me up in its forceful grasp, I wondered what it would be like to fly away, leaving the events of this chaotic year behind. Turning over different images in my mind; the good, the bad, and the truly ugly moments ricocheted around, causing me to sigh audibly. I stared into the morning sun, praying that it would burn the darkness from my soul, as I searched for the answers to my own internal struggles.

A flutter of wings and the sharp cries of crows shook me from my thoughts, as I marked their wedge-shaped flight into the blue horizon. What would it be like to grow some wings and take off, climbing high into the sky, viewing the world from a safe distance? How would it feel to be away from all this and start anew?

“Hey there, what’s going on?” a voice called to me, breaking nature’s silence.

Looking over, I saw Anne walk toward me.

Putting a foot on the bench, I turned to watch her striding over. The interplay of her muscles made her gait sure-footed and easy; something to admire, but from a distance. There was nothing between us but friendship, but one couldn’t help but admire her athleticism. She was one of the more active girls at school, playing many sports and was a natural talent in almost anything she participated in. She was also a good friend of mine, who always spoke her mind.

“Not much, really,” I replied. “Just some things that I’ve been trying to sort out, after that whole incident with Jess and Andrew.”

Looking at me with a bit of concern, she hit me on the head with her binder, then plunked down on the bench beside me.

“Don’t go off and get into trouble again, you hear me?” she scolded.

Raising my eyebrow at her, I made a sound like a cross between a sigh and a scoff.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m not looking to put him into the hospital anymore. They can have each other for all I care,” I replied.

“Good, cause that little incident was one of the most retarded things you’ve ever done,” she said with a sense of finality, nodding to herself.

“So I saw your end of the year concert yesterday. You sounded good, even though she was your partner in that duet. Not sure how you kept it together, but you did.” She looked over and smiled at me, trying to be a good friend and reassure me that things would be ok.

“Yeah, I guess it was ok,” my thoughts drifting away from the present.

Memories of the concert were still quite fresh inside my mind, since it had only happened yesterday. It was the very last concert that I would ever participate in as an 8th grader, and I had to share the stage with the one who shattered me.

Getting onto that stage, mentally and emotionally intact, was one of the most difficult steps I had ever taken.

But it was something I had to do.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

The lock clicked open and I entered the house. Someone was typically home, so I halted my footsteps to listen for any noise that would indicate the presence of family members and found none. It was eerily quiet, which was somewhat strange, but I welcomed the silence; recent events weighing heavily on my mind.

Avoiding my father took top priority, before I could actually clean up. If he had seen me in this condition, I would have been facing a long, torturous lecture; punishment notwithstanding. He never worried about my physical health and well-being, but his frustrations and disappointments usually stemmed from knowing and understanding his son. My passionate stubbornness, youthful recklessness and lack of respect for the consequences of my actions in certain situations, would often cause him grief. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the situations I found myself in. I simply chose to blaze my own path, regardless of the possibilities of doom.

This fight would be one of those kinds of situations.

Sliding my shoes off, I padded through the wooden hallways in my socks, checking the commonly used rooms and found no one around. Sorting through a quick checklist in mind, I looked at my clothes and realized that I needed to hide the evidence. Recalling that I had laundry to do, I bound up the stairs to my room and stripped off my shirt.

“Shit, there’s blood on it,” I muttered to myself. “Guess this is going into the wash too.”

Grabbing my dirty clothes, I headed back downstairs to the laundry room. It would take a few minutes to fill the washer, so I took the time to put together a story if someone questioned me about my injuries. As the tale formed in my mind, images and actions of the fight flashed through it as well. Poring over the frames locked inside, I knew that I had hurt him pretty badly. A pang of sadness and guilt came along with those images, as the power of my father’s words echoed through the core of my soul.

“Your skill in martial arts is exceptional. You’ve been trained since you were very young to hone those talents, but to also temper them with discipline and patience. What I’m afraid of is that you end up losing control or you act recklessly and end up severely hurting someone else, possibly even killing them. There are things in this world that time and money can’t heal. Try to keep that in mind.”

Those words, words I had heard time and time again, but had disregarded as the words of a worrisome parent, sank into my gut. It was the kind of gut check I wasn’t prepared for, nor welcomed. My vision overflowed with guilt as the consequences of my actions steadily became real to me.

What if I had snapped his neck? At one point, he did go limp in my arms and those were metal lockers. What if I had damaged his head or face so badly that I disrupted parts of his nervous system? It wasn’t impossible, having seen such an event during a tournament some years ago. My actions could have done permanent damage and I would forever reap the repercussions of such a calamity.

Listening to the sound of rushing water, I hung my head as those torrential feelings swept over me. The introspective lesson that I learned hurt more than any lecture my father could ever give me. My shoulders shook, as a chill ran up my spine and I put my face in my hands.

“I really need to make better choices, at least make decisions when I’m calm and collected,” I said to myself.

Sighing, I grabbed the laundry basket to head back upstairs. I knew that I couldn’t tell my family what happened, lest I felt like facing the wrath of my father. I had lost Jess, lost my heart and now lost my head. I couldn’t turn to my family, and my friends probably wouldn’t understand the burden that I carried. Some day someone would, but until then, I put it aside, filing it away in a memory archive.

Turning the corner, I trudged through the house, feeling dejected and utterly alone.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Dropping back on my right foot, his body slammed into mine, knocking me back a few steps before I regained my balance. He attempted to push me over, but I held my precarious balance by shifting my weight to match his pushing.

I wasn’t used to close quarters combat, but being bigger than most guys our age, I generally wasn’t very worried. His arms were locked around my chest, head down, trying to bowl me over. When it didn’t succeed, he flailed wildly; a fist catching me once in the shoulder and another connected with my face. A jolt of pain registered inside my head, igniting the angry fuel I had let build up inside and I retaliated. All I could see was the back of his head, so I started pounding on it like an out-of-control jackhammer.

Peering over my shoulder to get my bearings, I spied a dull-grey tint of metal coming from the row of lockers behind me. Glancing down, his head was pressed up against my ribs, right underneath my left arm. Wrapping an arm around his neck, I half-fell and half-yanked him toward me, slamming into the metal lockers, my back arching with the jarring impact.

Holding onto his head by his neck and chin, I kept ramming his head and face into the lockers, totally unaware that with each resounding impact, I was hurting myself as well. Anger and hate motivated me now and it only increased my animosity toward him. It became an endless loop. The pain I felt, only fanned the flames of destruction in my heart.

What did I do to deserve this? My situation with Jessica and now this. I didn’t start this mayhem, but was going to put a stop to it once and for all. I didn’t want this to continue. My pain, her pain and now his. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sadness, pain and sorrow; I could understand those things, but this was stupid on a whole different level.

“Stop! Please, stop!” she screamed.

My head jerked up and looked into the tear-streaked face of hysteria. She must have seen the wild look in my eyes as our eyes met. Momentarily frozen in place by her cries, my chest heaved and my lungs gasped for breath. I finally felt the arms of friends holding onto me, trying to separate us. Snapping my head back and forth, I met each face with a look and growled,”Get the fuck away from me or you’re next.”

She stepped forward and approached me, as the others backed away.

“Please, let him go.” She was crying and shaking.

“Dude, come on, it’s over. You’ve won, just let him go,” Eugene said, holding my arm.

Looking first at Jess, then at Eugene, the options tumbled through the dark recesses of my mind. I had known Eugene since we were in elementary school and was one of the very few people who I trusted, implicitly. Letting out a long exasperated breath, I looked down at Andrew, still locked in my grip, finally realizing that he was quietly sobbing. “Fine, you can have him,” I bit out with such hate and anger that she backed up a step.

I let go of his neck and shoved him away from me, all the adrenaline drained from my body. Backing up, I collapsed against a wall and looked over at her, tasting blood. Gingerly touching my lip, I put my jaw in my hand and rocked it back and forth, causing my friend, Pain, to reintroduce himself. Reaching back, I felt the bumps and bruises that were already starting to form on my back.

Jess leaned over him, holding his head, dabbing his face with wet paper towels. Others gathered around, encircling them to gawk and check on his injuries. She covered his bloodied face with some damp towels, one side was already puffy from the swelling.

“Here, man, take this,” Eugene said, handing me a stack of paper towels, half of them wet.

“You’ve got a fat lip and you’re still bleeding a bit,” he stated, examining me with curious eyes.

“Thanks,” I muttered, unconsciously reaching out to shake his hand. “You’re a real friend, G, unlike some people.”

“Don’t worry ’bout it. I was just afraid you had completely lost it and I’d have to try and take you down.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You fucken kicked his ass, but scared the shit out of everyone.”

We both turned to my left, to see a gap in the circle and I found her face red and streaked with tears, confused eyes, mixed in with sadness. They didn’t hold any anger or malice, just regret. A few seconds passed and I turned away.

Slamming my fist into one of the lockers, I dented the locker and felt a fresh spasm of pain as my skin tore away. Leaning my head against the cool metal surface, my anger slowly abated. Spinning around, I started toward the circle where Jess still sat. Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I turned to see him standing there, questions and concern in his eyes.

“Just let it go, man. It’s over.”

“Nothing is gonna happen,” I said, shrugging off his loose grip.

Covering my bleeding fist with a paper towel, I slowly made my way over to where they were. Looking straight at her, my face, impassive and stoic, I unloaded.

“I didn’t start this fight, but I sure as hell ended it. If you want to blame me for it, then go ahead, I don’t care anymore. Andrew’s a moron and he deserved what he got. After all of this, you know what I realized? I care for you, more than you can possibly know, but it isn’t worth this kind of anguish. I’m in love with a girl who doesn’t deserve my love. You don’t even deserve his love, but if he still wants you, fine. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.”

The silent tears flowed without interruption. The devastation in her gaze cut deeper than any bleeding wound. Turning my back on her, I walked away. The first few steps were the hardest, my heart throbbed with pain, my back wincing quietly in unison. Agonizing over my choice, I wanted to turn around and go back to her, to somehow comfort her, but I’d simply be hanging myself with a noose tied by my own hands.

A sigh escaped my lips, footfalls echoing off the walls while the distance grew. It was simply too late.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Using my sleeve to wipe the last remnants of salted drops from my eyes, I turned around and looked at him. Taking a cursory appraisal of the situation, I noticed his clenched fists and pinched face. Focusing on the latter, I saw angry waves of fire flashing through his eyes and I figured that there was only one way out of this, unless this tension was squelched. Either way you looked at it, one of us was going to get hurt, if not both of us.

Glancing over his shoulders, I spied a small crowd of guys behind him, watching, waiting and looking on. Most of them were his friends, although some were mine. I suspected that they knew a confrontation like this would happen and in typical human fashion, tagged along to see the fireworks and napalm bombs explode when resolution couldn’t be reached.

“Andrew, sup?” I gave him a curt greeting.

Staring at me steadily, he barely blinked. For a few breathless moments, no one moved. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I slid my feet apart and shifted my weight a bit to the back, preparing for anything that might come my way. All those years of training did teach me one thing; people were unpredictable.

“Saw you leave the choir room,” he stated flatly.

A number of thoughts crossed my mind. “Did he wait for me outside the choir room? Or did come to visit Jess and find her sobbing in her seat? The fact that I took off running, and she was crying makes for a great assumption. After all of that, now I’ve got to deal with this.” I simply nodded in agreement and waited for the chaotic tirade that never came.

“Jess was inside, crying,” his voice slowly rising in volume.

“You don’t know shit, man. It’s not about you,” I shot back, annoyed by his accusatory tone.

“But she’s my girlfriend,” he quipped, putting emphasis on the last two words. “What did you do to her?”

His tone of voice had annoyed the hell out of me and I wanted to shut him up once and for all. Sure, Jessica was his girlfriend, but he wasn’t shit to me and I was going to make sure he knew it. I always tried to avoid conflict because of the promise I made to my father, but I also didn’t like being pushed around. If push came to shove, I always did the shoving.

“If you want to know why she was crying, ask her yourself,” I growled, the irritation quite clear in my voice. “You’re her boyfriend, right? I’m sure she’ll tell you. Doesn’t she tell you everything? Or does she keep certain things from you too?” I sneered.

I already felt awful about how things went from bad to worse because of all the wayward emotions between me and Jess. At one time, we were the closest of friends, but now this tumultuous friendship was all that was left. There was no way I was going to let this snot-nosed jackass use it against me. It didn’t take much to turn that feeling of guilt into one of anger. I wanted him to feel the same as I did, so I twisted the knife that was already plunged into his side.

“I guess you two aren’t that close. Maybe she just doesn’t love you, as much as she loves me,” I taunted.

“Fuck you! I’m gonna kick your ass!” He practically spit in my face, as he screamed those words out loud.

Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and drawled,”Kick my ass? Yeah, right. Are you dreaming? Is this the same dream where you think she loves you?”

Those final words had hardly left my mouth before he lunged at me.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Flipping through the sheaf of music, I saw the teardrop notes resonating with their unique character only I could hear. Closing my eyes, I saw the music come alive, feeling the rhythm of the song as each note swept by, along a riverbed of black pearls. The notes slowly imprinted themselves against my consciousness, becoming an entity that melded with my own.

As I read the music, the words ate away at the lock and key of my emotional vault. When the lock fell away and the gates swung open, a wild storm of unimaginable proportions careened across the plain of my soul destroying every living thing in its path. I was sad, angry and bitter to no end. Try as I might, it was inescapable.

The battle stretched across the vast valley between the peaks of the heart and the mind. They each spoke to me in passionate tones, struggling to coax me onto their path. “We’re the righteous ones,” they both cried. Each trying to persuade me to listen and learn from an unseen wisdom that I somehow knew existed.

In that instant, I gave in to the anger and bitterness that I had held at bay for so long. Perched there in the bleeding blackness that was consuming my sanity, bit by bit, I found it hard to come to terms with rejection. What the hell did Andrew have that I didn’t? Why was he with her instead of me?

—–

The room was quiet, as we waited for our teacher to come start our practice session. I avoided her eyes and ignored her, lest I unleash the strife that raged inside of me. I wanted to confront her and demand an explanation, but I knew better. She had no answers and there were no answers that could satisfy my bloodlust anyway. I sat there, sullen and crouched in my own personal hell, letting it fuel the darkness that had already consumed almost every part of me.

“Hey, you ok?” she quietly asked.

“I’m fine.” But we both knew that I wasn’t. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to scream and yell about how it was unfair? Was I supposed to hammer away at her defenses and make her feel guilty for the way I felt now? Should I just make her feel worse just so I could feel better?

Even with all the anger and resentment I had bottled up, I still cared for her very much and I’d rather stew in my own juices than take it out on her. She was undeserving. But a part of me wished that she could feel the torment that I felt whenever I saw them together and whenever my mind was at rest.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” she pleaded.

“You really want to know?” I replied.

“Yes, please, I don’t know what to do or what to say. I see you act this way and…but I’m powerless to do anything.”

“Sad and powerless? Welcome to the club,” I bit out, unaware of how I sounded.

“I know that you’re hurt, but you’re still my friend. I just don’t know what to do anymore…” and tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Looking at her start to cry, a part of me felt glad. Glad that she was being made to suffer as much as I was. Sitting there, watching her cover her face in despair, I started to feel terrible. Not only did I let my bitterness overwhelm me, but now I felt guilty for making her feel like she was responsible.

Not being able to look at her tearful face, I grabbed my bag, shoved a desk aside, knocking a chair over in the process and bounded up the steps of the choir room and out into the sunshine. I couldn’t stay there any longer.

I ran.

I ran to get away; to be free of the burdens of my pain. The concrete fell behind me with each step, increasing the distance between the source of my pain and myself. At least that’s what I believed. Reality reared its head and showed me that there was no place on earth that could shield me from the sorrow I carried. When my feet hit asphalt, I stopped in my tracks. Tears had streaked my face during my sprint. The tide of emotional chaos rolled over me and I shuddered in my grief. Putting my hands on my knees, I leaned over and closed my eyes.

Why wouldn’t this just simply end? I could have simply let it go, but I couldn’t. The war within me refused to let up, each side giving no quarter. The clashing feelings I had rode me like a jagged lighting bolt, shearing through walls and shattering my resolve.

Consumed by the turmoil inside, I didn’t feel the hand on my shoulder until I felt a slight tug. Turning around, I looked straight into his eyes. There was anger there, brewing just beyond the horizon and it was approaching fast.

“Hey, I wanna talk to you…”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Walking off, I couldn’t help but feel a bounce in my step and a slight smile cross my face with the obvious tension floating in the air. The improbable situation that we found ourselves in, gave me a sense of satisfaction that I didn’t know was possible. I didn’t want to act or feel like a jerk, but I’d been feeling like a sack of shit for months, shunning all of the friends we had in common. This would be both uncomfortable and interesting, indeed.

“Hey, wait!” she called out. I turned around to face her and when our eyes met, she quietly asked,”You’re not still mad at me are you?”

Tilting my head to one side, I tried to puzzle out why she would care so much about how I felt. Why did she care? Sure, she was my friend and I suppose she would care about my well-being, but she was with the “right” guy now. That’s what she wanted, right? I wasn’t the guy she liked, it was Andrew.

“What makes you think I was ever mad at you?” I questioned.

“Oh, I just thought that after what had happened and with you not talking to me, you were still mad at me.”

“No, I was never mad at you. Sad, maybe, but never mad,” I told her as I walked backward toward the outer gates. “I’ve got to get going, but we’ll talk later. We still have practice you know.”

As I trotted off through the gates, I heard her whisper to no one in particular,”but I still miss my friend.”

—

Heading toward the pool, I thought about what just happened and the words I heard that were meant for no one. I had gotten over some of the sting of her refusal at my honest confession, but it still hurt, regardless of the time that had passed. My mind tried to seal up those wounds and push them aside, but whenever I thought about the event, there was bitterness that invaded my chest cavity. The same questions kept repeating themselves, ravaging my spirit. But when I asked those questions, I always came up with the same answers that was the salve for my soul.

Although it would get easier with time, rejection was still very new to me. This was the very first time where my honesty had netted me a backhand from Life. Simply put, it sucked. I had missed her too. Our friendship before my big mouth was what I missed most. We were buddies, pals and though the chance that I had taken failed, I couldn’t help but remember that we were still friends first.

Approaching a copse of trees, I wandered inside and looked up to see sunlight filtering through the branches at the very top. I had often climbed these trees, searching for something; adventure, fun and ultimately a sanctuary. Here I found some peace in the shadows and silence, blocked by the leaves that surrounded me.

“Why me? Why couldn’t it be easy? Why did you make this so hard?” I shouted into the forest of green leaves, heralding the coming of summer. When no answers came, I resolved to seek my own answers and find my own way. I wasn’t her boyfriend, but I could still be her friend.

Leaving that solitude behind, I realized that this duet might be more than just a simple song.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

The pain of rejection hovered around me like a cloud of frosted glass; obscuring my view from the world that continued to spin, unbeknownst to me. The days and weeks that followed overlapped each other, merging and melding into a continuous nearsighted blur. There was nothing to discern the difference between one day and the next. Even thick, coke-bottled glasses were of no use here.

Time found me huddled deep in the shadows of an unspoken alcove, wanting to disappear from the questioning gazes and sympathetic murmurs of friends and acquaintances alike. After all, everyone had heard about what had happened, but no one had been given specific details. People wondered what had transpired, but I wasn’t up for any interviews, less an open forum to hash out the events of that afternoon. It was still too raw for me; nursing that constant sore that refused to scab over.

To alleviate the social pressures, I buried myself in my school work and activities. Tackling each day with fervor, I was able to forget, at least for the time being, the ache which filled the space where a buoyant heart once was. Those shattered remains of my core still existed; I hadn’t lost it completely. Instead of sitting where it belonged, I carried it around in a dull, grey leather satchel, cinched tight. Maybe one day some power would come along and piece it back together.

School days came and went. Avoiding the darkness festering inside of me was tough, but between choir practice, competitions, swim practice and meets, they all came as a blessing in disguise. They gave me purpose and focus, for that I was glad for.

Toward the end of that year, preparations for the year end ceremony were underway. I was always very involved in choir and some might say that I had a talent to match my interest. Encouraged to audition for a solo, I found my way in front of the music teacher, pouring my heart and soul into a song, harnessed by the emotional turmoil that had struck its first blow against my teenage soul.

The results of the audition were quite favorable, and I ended up getting the sought after part. Although I had beat everyone else out for that solo, our teacher felt that a duet would be appropriate and wanted a soprano to balance out my tenor/baritone. Another audition was held, only this time, it was for girls only.

After two days of auditions, the results were posted on her classroom door. The final bell of the day rang, and a mass of bodies hurried to see which girl would get that coveted slot. Looking at the sheet taped to the door, I paused as reality slapped me in the face. I was slated to perform the duet, with Jess.

The ache returned. Why did this happen? After all this time, I had thought myself clever enough to avoid the issue, waiting for time to wrap itself around my wound and close it. But now I had to face it head on. Was some unseen force amused with the situation I now found myself in? Did they have any idea what I had gone through for these last few months? The questions thundered inside my head, as the voices of my classmates drowned out the beginnings of my apparent pseudo-psychosis.

Stunned and subdued, I turned around to leave the throng of kids milling about and spotted her as she approached. I suppose she hadn’t heard the news yet. Mustering up my courage, I managed a cordial greeting.

“Hey, Jess. How’ve you been?”

“Hey there… I’ve been ok. How’re you…doing?” she asked, careful concern edging her voice. “I haven’t talked to you in a while. I didn’t know if you’d ever talk to me again.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is…” I trailed off. “I’ve been busy and so have you.”

She didn’t say anything, but I knew. The story read like a novelette in her eyes. They had been going out for a few weeks now and she knew that I knew. She wrung her hands with anxiety and lowered her eyes. In the distance, I saw him watching our uncomfortable interaction. He avoided me, as I avoided him, not wanting to cause a stir or a fight. At least he respected my wishes, as many others did that year when it came to that subject.

“It’s ok. You’re happy, right? That’s all that matters,” I managed to say as I smiled slightly. “I’ve got to get going now. Swim practice…”

As I turned to walk away, I said over my shoulder,”You got the part, Jess. I guess this time, it’s just me and you…”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.