Beneath the Surface, page 10
I sniffle quietly, but the sound loudly contrasts the silence looming in the air.
Jax stands there, watching me curiously for what feels like an eternity. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Then, finally, it’s as if he makes some kind of internal decision about me. His jaw hardens, and he stalks away.
I sit there for a few more minutes until I’m brave enough to stand up and make my way out of the room and out of the school. Thankfully, I manage to leave through an exit in the theater, undetected, and the school has cleared out by the time I enter the hallway. Once I’m outside the building altogether, I sprint home.
The next day, I’m practically shaking as I approach the front entrance of the school. Dad had to leave early for work, so he offered to drive me, but I politely refused. If he had and then noticed people looking at me strangely, he might have asked me what was going on, and I’m not prepared to talk to him about it.
Shelly is onto me though. Last night, Casey came over for dinner, as planned, and brought my stuff that I’d left behind in the classroom. I was quiet, and Casey tried to help me out by talking to Shelly, but I could tell by the way Shelly kept trying to steer the conversation back to me that she knew something was up.
My relationship with Shelly had gotten off to a rough start, but after my friendship ended with Jax and she started staying with me when Dad went out of town, I got to know her better. In a particular heartfelt conversation, she assured me she wasn’t trying to take the place of my mother. She said she just wanted to offer me friendship, and I certainly needed a friend then.
I surprised myself by opening up to her about my fight with Jax. I hadn’t even given my dad any details about it.
When I’d told Dad that we’d had a fight and I didn’t want to stay at the Reynolds’ house anymore, I could tell he was relieved. One night, I’d overheard him talking to Shelly about it, and he’d admitted to being concerned about my relationship with Jax.
“There’s a possibility that they will make up,” Shelly told him.
“I’m hoping they don’t,” he replied. “I know Hannah is upset now, but I think it’s for the best. I don’t think Jax is a bad kid, but he makes poor decisions. Other parents talk about the number of fights he gets into at school.”
“Do you think he’d hurt Hannah?”
“No. Not at all. But I’m still worried.”
“About what?”
“Whether or not he realizes it, Jax has a lot of influence over Hannah. Her staying over there was fine a year or two ago when they were younger, but now, it feels inappropriate.” He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before continuing, “I see the way Jax looks at Hannah, and until their argument, I honestly thought he was in love with her. If fourteen-year-olds are capable of falling in love, that is.”
That conversation has always lingered in my memory because I can recall just how shocked I was to hear it and how much it hurt as well. The idea of what could’ve been with Jax still haunts me. I don’t know if we were in love, but I know he broke my heart.
I blink, realizing that I’m standing outside the school, just staring up at it in a daze.
Despite being terrified of what I might find, I allow my eyes to wander and take in my surroundings. To my surprise, no one is whispering to each other or throwing knowing glances my way. It’s as if it’s a normal morning and everyone is going about their day.
I make it inside the school and to my locker without a single interaction. When I open my locker, I brace myself for the possibility of another note, but there’s nothing. Has everyone already moved on? I’m not complaining, just surprised. Normally, a rumor of this magnitude would hold on for at least a month and then resurface periodically thereafter.
Feeling a little more at ease, I grab the books I need from my locker and shut it. When I turn around, I see the guy who looked me up and down yesterday when I was leaving the classroom. His locker is on the opposite side of the hall, across from mine. I expect another rude interaction, but the second our eyes meet, he looks away.
As I walk to class, I gently test the waters. I steal a glance at another guy, one that I recognize from Calculus, and as soon as I make eye contact with him, he seems uncomfortable and turns completely around to walk in the opposite direction.
The girls are acting strangely too. Instead of laughing behind my back, they are simply watching me, almost with curiosity. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s going on. And then I see him.
I’m coming around the corner, almost to homeroom, when I spot Zane at the other end of the hallway. Just as I muster up the courage to confront him, the sight of him makes me stop short, and I can’t help but stare at him in awe.
As Zane walks closer, I notice he has two black eyes and a split lip. He’s a big guy, at least six feet tall, so I can’t fathom what happened to him. He’s so banged up that I assume he must’ve been in an accident of some sort.
It’s not until he’s almost past me that he notices I’m there. He immediately diverts his attention away from me, deliberately staring at the floor in front of him as he walks by without a single word.
THIRTEEN
Jax | Present
I think I’ve gone crazy.
That’s the only rational explanation for what’s happening. Or perhaps I’m psychic. However, that wouldn’t explain why this morning was exactly like the previous two.
I was rude to Miguel, practically biting his head off when he told me he was making me eggs for breakfast. Then, when he suggested that Hannah and I go to the Seven Tethers concert with him and Alyssa, I snatched up the flyer, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.
Now, as I stand outside Hannah’s apartment, waiting on her once again, I’m full of anticipation and apprehension. I want to see her, to have physical proof that she’s still alive, but I don’t know what’s happening or why.
Hannah appears, wearing the same button-down shirt and jeans as the past two times I’ve seen her, and I can feel my anxiety shoot through the roof.
“I think there’s some kind of festival going on downtown,” I blurt out before even saying hello.
I vaguely recall someone mentioning it last week, and if today is technically Sunday, then it’s still going on. The bottom line is, I don’t want to do anything the same as our previous two encounters—the ones that ended in her death.
Hannah doesn’t seem fazed by my brashness—I guess she just expects it from me at this point. “Okay,” she casually replies. “Are we taking your car or mine?”
I insist on driving this time, partly because I want to switch everything up and also because I need to feel in control of something even if it’s only my car.
Downtown is a ten-minute drive from campus, and I know I’m being too quiet. A few times, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hannah glance in my direction. I wait for her to ask what’s wrong or try to make small talk, but she must sense that I’m in my head because she doesn’t.
The festival, which occurs every year, is being held in a waterfront park downtown. There is limited parking on a good day, but I luck out and find street parking just down the road from it.
“Do you mind if we go into that shop over there before we head to the festival?” Hannah asks after we get out of the car. She points to a store directly behind me, called Beaufort Clothiers. “I should stop in for a minute.”
I nod and head in the store’s direction. Reaching the door first, I hold it open for Hannah. Although I debate on waiting for her outside, I decide to go in. I don’t trust anything right now and want to keep an eye on her to make sure she’s safe.
We enter the store, and Hannah lingers in the doorway, looking around. I’m about to ask her what she’s hoping to find when a woman steps out of the back room and lights up when she sees us.
“Hannah!” the woman greets her. She hurries to Hannah and pulls her into a tight hug. “I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m happy to see you.”
“We came downtown to the festival, so I thought we’d stop in and say hi,” Hannah replies as they part.
The woman looks at me with wide, surprised eyes. I take a minute to figure out who she is because it’s been so many years since I’ve seen her, and even then, I only met her twice. It’s Hannah’s stepmother, Shelly.
“Jax,” Shelly says, more to herself than to me. She can’t seem to move past her shock to formulate any other words.
“It’s a long story,” Hannah explains. “But Jax and I are working on a project together. Actually, today is our last day.”
Shelly turns her focus back to Hannah. I can tell by the way she’s looking at Hannah—full of curiosity and concern—that she’s trying to decide if Hannah hanging out with me is a good thing or not.
If Shelly were to land on not, I’d have to agree with her. Prior to this assignment, Hannah had her whole life ahead of her. Now, here I am, back in her life for only a few days, and Hannah’s future suddenly ceases to exist.
Before I can dwell on it any further, Hannah is hugging Shelly goodbye as she explains we need to get going. Before we leave, Shelly makes Hannah promise to call soon so they can catch up, and I know it’s because she wants to grill her about me.
“I don’t blame her, but she hates me,” I tell Hannah once we’re outside the store.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Hannah replies. “But she was there for me after our friendship ended.”
I don’t know how to respond to that because I know I hurt Hannah when I cut her out of my life. The reality that she needed to rely on someone who was practically a stranger to her at the time makes it sting even more.
“I should probably thank you though,” Hannah says. “If it wasn’t for our argument, I might never have accepted Shelly.”
Back when we were friends, Hannah had her reservations about Shelly, but I never fully understood why.
“I’m sure you would have. Her relationship with your dad was just new to you.”
Putting myself in Hannah’s shoes, it can’t be easy, seeing your dad move on with someone else after watching your mother lose her battle with cancer.
She shakes her head as we cross the street. “It wasn’t that. You were the main reason I didn’t want a relationship with her.”
I step onto the sidewalk and look down at her, not following at all. I can’t recall a single time that I discouraged her from accepting Shelly. “Why do you say that?”
Hannah stops walking and turns to face me. “I never told you this, but my dad was really apprehensive about me staying at your house.”
I swallow hard as I feel my pulse speed up. Did he know something bad was going to happen? Surely not, or he would’ve kept Hannah home, away from me and away from my family.
“He was concerned about how much time we were spending together and how close we were getting,” she explains. “I didn’t understand it then, but I think it was mainly because we were getting older, and, you know, he was worried about teenage hormones and stuff.”
I let out a breath and hope she doesn’t notice.
“He wanted me to stay home and just have Shelly come stay with me. Apparently, she had offered, and I guess he was already contemplating proposing to her so …”
“Okay,” I say. “That makes sense.”
“But I resisted her completely because I was worried it would drive a wedge between you and me.” She sighs. “But I guess I did that on my own anyway.”
Is that what she’s been thinking all these years? That she’s the one responsible for our friendship ending?
As I think back on the words I said to her that day, I guess I left her no other choice but to come to that conclusion. I never really thought about the long-term impact of what I said to her. At the time, I just wanted the most effective way to get her out of my life as quickly as possible. I thought she’d just get pissed and write me off as an asshole. I didn’t expect her to internalize it and hold on to it for this long.
She walks again, but I catch her arm, gently pulling her back.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her, looking her square in the eye. “We ended because I’m fucked up—not you.” I release her, but I can’t tell whether or not she believes me.
She’s quiet for a moment, but then changes the subject. It’s her go-to move when she doesn’t want to deal with something. “Let’s head over to the festival.” She nods her head in the park’s direction. “I bet I can beat you at ring toss.”
“Not a chance. And this is a festival, not a carnival.” I chuckle as I playfully bump her shoulder.
“I’ll find something there I can beat you at.”
“Come on then, shit-talker.” I turn toward the park. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
FOURTEEN
Jax | Present
I stand in my kitchen, flipping grilled cheese in a pan, wondering why I didn’t suggest takeout. After spending all day at the festival, Hannah felt hungry on the drive back to her apartment. For whatever reason, I felt compelled to offer to make her dinner.
Okay, that’s not completely true. I offered to make her dinner because the fear of her going home and dying again had occupied my thoughts all day. I hoped perhaps changing the location of her evening could prevent the events from unfolding. It was worth a try.
The problem was, when I made the offer, I didn’t have an inventory of what food was at the apartment. Miguel usually cooks, and I scrounge his leftovers or just eat on the go. I can’t remember the last time I actually went into the kitchen and cooked something myself.
There were probably other options, but with my very limited skill set, I saw the bread and the cheese and felt like it was a safe solution. I’m sure Hannah would’ve preferred something else, but she just smiled and told me it sounded perfect.
I glance at her as she wanders around the living room—not that there’s much to look at. It’s a minimal bachelor pad at best. All we have in the living room is a couch, a recliner, a TV stand, and a TV mounted on the wall. The only piece of decor is a painting of Times Square that sits above our couch. It’s Miguel’s, and he brought it with him when he moved in. Even though he’s lived in South Carolina most of his life, he was born in New York. He’s contemplating moving back there in a few years, when he’s ready to attend medical school.
“They’re ready,” I tell Hannah as I place our sandwiches onto plates.
She joins me in the kitchen, and I hand her a plate. “Thanks. This looks delicious.”
“Assume nothing until you try it.” I’m not kidding. I have no clue how these are going to taste. “We can just eat in the living room.”
We don’t have a dining room, let alone a dining table, so Miguel and I have become accustomed to just eating in our laps.
I let Hannah take her seat, and when she chooses the couch, I sit in the recliner. We eat in silence, but it’s not awkward at all. It’s more like we’re both so hungry that we’re too preoccupied with our food to carry on a conversation.
We had no trouble finding things to talk about today though. Except for our drive to the festival, the conversation flowed effortlessly between us all day. It was mostly small talk and commenting on the things around us, but it felt normal. It was like two friends hanging out, catching up for the day. Although I’ve had fun with her, the probability of her perishing tonight has stayed in the back of my mind.
I’m still at a loss as to what it all means. The days couldn’t have happened because Hannah is sitting here with me now. But without a doubt, I experienced them. At first, I thought it was all a dream, but not two days in a row—three if you count today.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful to be here with her right now. That first night, I never thought I’d get the opportunity again. As much as I want to just sit here and enjoy the present, it’s overshadowed with a sense of impending doom about what might happen to her tonight.
After we finish eating, I take our plates and load them into the dishwasher. I wait for Hannah to ask me to take her home, but she doesn’t. Instead, she asks if I feel like watching a movie.
“What do you like to watch?” I ask, scrolling through the endless options of movies to stream.
Hannah used to enjoy mysteries, true crime documentaries, and occasionally a horror movie, but I have no clue what entertains her now. For all I know, she could be into rom-coms.
Man, I hope she doesn’t say rom-com.
“Ooh!” She points to the TV. “That’s the new zombie movie. Want to watch that?”
I smile. This is an example of why she was my best friend back in the day. She’s definitely not a rom-com kind of girl.
I open my eyes, and it’s dark inside the apartment, except for the TV, which is still on. The movie is long over, and another random movie is playing. Immediately, I look over at the couch, hoping that Hannah hasn’t left. Thankfully, she’s still there, lying on the couch, asleep.
At least, I hope she’s asleep.
“Hannah?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Hannah?” I repeat, louder and more demanding this time.
My heart beats in my throat as I move the recliner back into an upright position. Just when I’m about to get up to shake her, I see her head move.
“Hmm,” she murmurs.
I force myself to breathe. I forgot what a heavy sleeper she is.
Hannah sits up, groggily looking around. “What time is it?”
Good question. I dig my phone out of my pocket, and it does nothing to ease my anxiety. “It’s after eleven.”
