Eastwood Academy

Chapter 12: Reminiscence

"Yes, I did," she answers me heavily. She pulls out her phone and hands it to me and I stare at the photo on her screen. In it are five people, all in what looks like soccer uniforms. Carly sits on the bleachers at the sports stadium, laughing as she looks at the camera, her arm around her friend Kim. A guy stands behind them, his head hanging over their shoulders, also smiling at the camera. Sitting beside to them is a slightly younger-looking River with a gorgeous girl on his lap: Imeria.

Even sitting down, I can see that she's tall and willowy. She has light red hair that flows over her shoulders like silk and pale blue eyes, the color of the sky just after dawn. River and Imeria are smiling, their arms around each other and eyes only for one another.

Looking at the photo, I feel an irrational surge of jealousy and dislike for Imeria. I wonder what it would be like to be the girl sitting on River's lap and have him look at me like that. Then I feel ashamed. I shouldn't be thinking about someone who died in such a negative way. That feels disrespectful. Oblivious to my inner thoughts, Carly continues to talk.

"I didn't know her that well," she says. We were on the soccer team together for two years. She was much more popular than me. We didn't run in the same circles, but she was always nice. She met River halfway through freshman year. They got together instantly. Both of them were smitten. They went everywhere together. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Then she..." Carly trails off into silence.

"Then she died," I finished quietly.

Carly nods, seemingly lost in thought. When she speaks again, her mind is elsewhere, and only her body is here.

"I was there that night," she says. "Conner, the other boy in the photo, invited me to accompany them. I was so excited to go to a kickback at his lake house. I'd never been there before. Those parties were only for the varsity soccer teams, and I'd been hoping to get invited for so long." I look at her in mute sympathy. I want to say something comforting, but I have no idea what.

"That was the worst night of my life. I'll never forget seeing River being dragged out of that house or watching the firemen restrain him from going back inside. He was so heartbroken it was painful. He broke his hand punching a tree once they let him go. That was the last I saw of him until the second semester of junior year."

"I'm sorry," I tell her softly. At my words, she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

"So am I," she replies. "Imeria was the best of us, it's not right that she died the youngest. Looking at her, it would have been easy to dismiss her as just another shallow, pretty face, but she wasn't, you know?" I nod uneasily at Carly as she continues talking, that horrible feeling of jealousy and insecurity rising up in me again despite my attempts to block my irrational feelings.

"She was so nice to everyone, which, believe me, was a change from some of the other girls on the team. They could be vicious. But Imeria shut them all up whenever they would try to pick on someone or shit talk to them, even though she was younger than them. She was just so bold. Totally fearless." I nod again, my lack of sound pulling Carly out of her reverie.

"Sorry," she says to me. "I'm sure my reminiscing is not what you want to be hearing right now. I'm probably boring you. Well, she's right about the first part, I don't really want to listen to her talk about Imeria, but not for the reason that she thinks. But again, there's no way I'll be saying any of what I'm thinking out loud to her.

"I understand. You need to talk about what happened," I tell Carly. That sounds really traumatic. I'm so sorry that you saw all of that." She smiles at me, looking more like her usual bubbly self.

"Thanks for listening to me," she says. "I haven't talked about that night with anyone here. It feels too strange. Plus, everyone would spread it around as gossip, and I don't want that."

"Well, you certainly don't have to worry about me gossiping," I reply. "I hardly know anyone here."

"That will change," Carly reassures me. "Just give it a couple weeks. You'll know half the people who go to Eastwood." Then she checks her phone. "Shit, I'm going to be late, I'm supposed to meet some friends to study. Sorry, I gotta run," she exclaims.

"Bye," I tell her lamely as she goes, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts for company. Precisely what I don't want. Bold and fearless. Well, that's sure as hell not me, not off the baseball pitch. The only time I can ever remember feeling fearless was in a high stakes playoff game in my freshman year of high school.

My mother was quite sick by that time, and I was fully aware that it might be her only chance to see me win a high school baseball championship. The fear I felt was all consuming. What would I do without her? How would I get by? At first, I played like shit, and then, in the second inning, something happened. I entered some kind of flow state that I had never felt before. We won, and my mother was ecstatic. I've never been able to replicate that feeling. Until I met River. As ugly as our interactions are, they force me to be present.

Something about him completely absorbs me. Once again, my feelings rise to the surface, and this time, Carly and her oblivious chatter are not around to provide a distraction. I scowl. Sometimes, I hate being alone with my thoughts.

Gavin texts me a couple of times, asking if I'm okay. I tell him I'm, but I don't think he believes me. I've never talked about this with any of my friends before. I considered calling Jessica and asking her to talk. She'd understand, I'm sure. But something holds me back. Something about my conversation with River at the party opened up a sea of feelings I've been trying to hold back. And I don't care what bullshit he spews at me, I know he didn't find our interaction as loathsome as he would have me believe.

Because I don't know where else to go, I head back to my dorm. I hope Jessica might be in the room, but she isn't, so I pull out my planner and flip pages restlessly, telling myself that I am going to do my homework. But after a minute, I chuck it at the wall and give up. It's moments like these that make me miss my mother the most. I love my dad, but I can't exactly call him up and tell him I have boy problems. But if my mother were still alive, I know she would listen and somehow make me feel better.

That thought makes me sad, jealous, and annoyed at myself. I turn on my music and crank up the volume, hoping the sound will drown out the endless whirlpool of negative thoughts running through my head.