Not a Bestseller

Now, Never, or Forever

Teens are so dramatic. I feel bad for you guys, reading a book that you thought would be one thing, but before you know it you find yourself reading a teenage soap opera with way too many dramatic conversations. I wish I could tell you about more exciting stuff. Maybe a terrorist attack on the White House, or an earthworm digging to the center of the earth and finding a lollipop. 

There's no point to keep reading, if you've made it this far. In order for a story to be good, you need a beginning, middle, and end. You've got your little part in the beginning introducing you to everyone, and then a bunch of conflict happens leading you to ups and downs. But here's the thing about a story: It's got an ultimate climax. Romeo and Juliet killed themselves. The Braveheart dude died. Bad guys die. Heroes die. Alex dies.

Just kidding.

The climax comes and everyone knows they're in for something good. Real life in its pure and raw form? It doesn't make a very good story. Life is full of conflict. I've proved that. But it always resolves itself in the end. Most can't categorize their lives in one climactic moment.

The tiny person controlling our heads makes sure of that. Even if dethroned and off balance as mine was. (I think he's an alcoholic now.)

Looking back at my life, I'm no exception. There's not some big distinctive moment that represented a turning point when I decided that my non-life was slightly worth living. It was a result of a lot of conversations, hard work, a butt-load of mistakes, and a couple of good friendships.

Great for me, not so good for entertainment.

I really need to get some sleep.

On another note, I had one more heart to heart with Julia White. I knew she was going to go to college. I knew I'd never get to see her alone again. Everything was perfectly timed, as you'll come to read, and I wasn't going to let this opportunity go. 

Time to face reality.

Alexander wasn't a jerk. I loved Julia. Julia had a dead brother who she couldn't save. I was the friend she did rescue. All of the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place with all that time to think during the dumb movie.

(Thank goodness it wasn't good. I would've missed it.)

I couldn't go on hurting her like this. But I wasn't going to keep stabbing myself in the back. I'd put myself out there. I got hurt. The pattern wasn't going to stop.

Austin told me I didn't deserve to get hurt like that. I wanted to believe him.

While I'd been in the dark, I'd snuck a marker from Valerie's collection. I'd decided what I was going to say, and I wrote it down—just as I did with anything important so I wouldn't forget it. 

The events of my destruction went a little something like this:

The movie was over.

We'd stepped outside. Valerie got a call that her dad's RV was found in an abandoned warehouse in Detroit, so she ditched me. (I made that up. I don't remember the real reason. Leave me alone. I'm tired.)

Alexander decided to go home. He didn't explain himself.

So, of course, Julia was my only ride. I had to ask, she had to say yes. We were about three blocks away in the front seats of her car when she said, "I had a great time tonight. This was nice."

My head racked back a snort, but I managed to nod without losing my insides. My arm covered in scribbled notes twitched.

"I'm glad. I'm happy you're over everything." She glanced between my eyes, my hand, and the road. "I mean, I've missed you. And with Alex and I going to college right here and everything...I'm really glad I'm still gonna get to see you. I missed you." She said again. "A lot."

Wind slowed against the windshield. I forced myself to swallow. It felt like a sword slicing me open. 

I'm starting to take myself way too seriously. 

"Julia, I didn't go anywhere."

She pursed her lips. "I know. It's just that I thought—I knew—things were going to change, well, be different. It's not anyone's fault, but I'm glad to have you back."

Here we go.

"You mean you're glad I'm over you?"

Her chest lifted like a marathon runner. She nodded.

I glanced at my arm beneath the street lights. They were everywhere, words few and far between. But they were mine. I could work with this. 

"Ben?

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm not over you. I honestly don't think I ever will be."

Something in her face changed. "Ben-"

My words staggered with the scribbles. The writing had smeared on my jacket. "I mean, I'll keep living. I guess that's what anyone does: pretend to be okay. But it doesn't change anything. You get distracted, but that's all anything ever is, a distraction."

"Ben-"

I leaned against the window. "There's nobody left to blame either. All this time, I just waited for it to change. But that's when I realized what I really am to you, and that it will never be what you are to me. Not if you think like that."

So many emotional conversations in a lifetime. Why???

???????????????

"Be-"

"I'm my best self when I'm with you. You know? So, I guess I'm just living in the moment and hoping for the best."

"I'm so-"

"No." I shoved my sleeve back down. Screw this. "Don't feel obligated or anything, okay? Just listen." 

Her ears perked.

"Look, I'll find a way to live with or without you, Julia. But I can't- " I pinched oxygen into my knuckles. "My whole life has been nothing but these one-sided, two-faced...people pretending they care about me. I can't do that anymore. I just...can't."

Julia gripped my wrist. "What are you trying to say?"

I pulled away. "I know. Okay? About your mom. Your brother. Everything."

She froze.

"You couldn't save him, so you saved me," I said. "But as much as you want me to be some shot at redemption for you, I'm not. I'm me. And I want you to be happy, but...this...our friendship isn't going to work anymore. Not if that's what I am to you."

The car stopped. We were in front of my house. 

For once, Julia's mouth was open, but no words came out. Her eyes glossy, she turned her head back to the windshield and unlocked my door.

I felt for the handle. "I'll try, okay? But...it's never going to be the same between us. Ever. You're kidding yourself, and you need to stop. The Julia White I know knows what's what."

Those emeralds found me again, wider than I'd ever seen them. The night air tore through the car's interior when I opened the door.

"Julia?"

She drew in a breath. Her lip quivered.

"I don't know what you want from me. But I'm always going to be here. Okay?"

I wanted her to say something. This girl was titanium. A mountain. No one could break her. I closed the car door. Then, I said one of the cheesiest lines in the history of dramatized conversations. Tiny Person threw up.

"You changed me for the better. Now, go change the world."

My body slipped inside the house without turning back, but I never heard the car pull out of the driveway.