this is not a sad story

chapter 2

But, like every other teenage bitch in the world, along came something that filled me up for a bit. And his name was Beckett. I know, it's stupid and it sounds like bucket, but this is my story so whatever.

Beckett moved into town the summer before senior year. The story I told you about me fucking the kid Travis? That was the night Beckett came to Woodland Hills. While I was out getting plastered in the orchard, Beckett was unloading boxes full of his stuff into his new bedroom.

I'll tell you a bit about Beckett. He looks like trouble. Adults will see his smirking face and automatically label him as a trouble-making delinquent. He is, don't get me wrong. He came from southern California. He used to live on the beach and he went surfing a lot. His dad had to move his company to the east coast to oversee a new chain of something, I don't really know. Beckett was white, he had tan skin and light blue eyes. His mom says God took the ocean and put them in his eyes. See, I agree, but I don't ever want him to know that. He was tall, definitely well over six feet. He had floppy black hair and nice features. If you looked at him, you'd guess he probably surfs or skates. He does both, and he fits the stereotype quite well. He has a drumset and a signed guitar from the Rolling Stones. Sometimes when he gets angry or sad, he'll play them, but other than that, they sit vacant.

We met on the first day of classes. He sat next to me during first period, which was english. I liked english and I usually saved the seat next to me for Summer. We had been in the same english class since freshman year. We reserved the left side of the back row by the window. Beckett took her usual seat, and because I didn't know him, I didn't say anything. Summer came in ten minutes late with two iced coffees and immediately gave me a look, like I was supposed to do something. I just didn't care enough to pick a fight.

Beckett was quiet, but you could tell he always had something to say. They say the ocean is reflective of Poseidon's moods. Sometimes he's in a good mood, bringing in the tide slowly, but surely because of the moon from Artemis. Sometimes he's angry and brings ships of humans down to his territory. He'll kill anybody in his territory. You can always tell, though, because he doesn't keep anything in. And anybody stupid enough to mess with him just gets crossed in the fire and ends up his pawn. I think Beckett's like that.

He's a sweet kid, though. There's a lot of anger inside of him. Maybe it's because his dad chose his job over him and because his mom was fucking anybody with a dick. He told me he grew up mostly himself, other than a few half-assed nannies who learned pretty on that he's a mature kid who could keep himself busy for hours and they could mooch off of his expensive luxuries like a television with over 900 channels and an indoor pool with a built-in waterfall. But Beckett has a good heart. He likes animals, especially dogs. He likes to go on drives whenever he feels sad or lost.

But that's coming soon, I promise. I'm just going to start off with the first time he ever spoke to me.

"Hey, you're in my english class, right?" Beckett asked one day when school let out. Everybody was going to the parking lot and we happened to be walking kind of close to each other.

"Yeah," I responded.

That was where the interaction ended. He took a left and I took a right.

All the girls liked him. He was quiet, hot, and new. He was like the mysterious bad boy in every teen movie or novel. The guys didn't know what to think of him. Beckett didn't play any sports or join any clubs. He just showed up to school, quietly did his work, and then left.

It was at Bethany Harris' party when I really talked to him for the first time.

Anybody worth anything was invited to that party. I guess I was invited because I put out and my friends were fun. We showed up late because Gabby and Nick had broken up (for the 80th time) and she was crying on my bedroom floor about it. I can't tell you why, really, all I knew was that Nick called her a desperate whore and said he was tired of it, or some bullshit. I think he just really wanted to fuck Bethany at her party and this was he'd have less of a guilty conscience.

But we showed up a few hours in looking like the badass bitches we are. Summer lent me her Levi's and because she was a few sizes bigger than me, I pulled a belt super tight against my waist. I didn't even try to hide the fact that my shirt was a bra, but I felt fucking hot wearing it anyway.

Before we left, we made sure Gabby's makeup was immaculate and extra, shiny with glitter so that she'd be more noticeable. Then we did the same shit, and looked like we just stepped off the set of Euphoria.

We got there, went to the drinks, took a few shots and then dispersed. I saw the Travis dude with some of his baseball friends and said hey. Surprisingly, he pulled me into his lap like we had been dating for six years. I didn't mind, though. I kind of liked playing the part of a madly in love girlfriend. So I played with his hair, laughed extra loudly at his shitty jokes, and didn't move his hand as it rested on my inner thigh.

That's when I noticed Beckett.

Bethany was trying to talk to him as he leaned against the wall, sipping out of a solo cup. She kept touching him and he obviously wasn't into it. We made eye contact and kept it for a few moments before he just straight up walked away. Bethany was in mid-sentence because she looked stupidly offended by that.

I wasn't sure what that meant, so I did the same thing. I got up out of Travis' lap and followed Beckett into the next room. He wasn't there, but there was a door that led to the backyard with a half-assed paper sign that said 'do not enter'. I don't give a fuck about Bethany and her stupid house, so I went outside.

Sure enough, Beckett was outside lighting a cigarette.

"You smoke?" he asked.

"Nah," I responded.

He looked at me. "Not even weed?"

I shook my head.

Now, you might be wondering, Maya, I thought you said you needed a bowl every night to have dinner? Well, my friends, remember one of the first things I told you? I'm a fucking liar. I don't like weed. It makes my head feel cottony and it smells like shit. There's your first lesson. I got you there, didn't I? Even when I'm dead, I can't help but fuck with people. It's one of my favorite things to do.

Beckett shrugged and continued to take a drag. "How long have you lived here?"

"My whole life," I told him. "It's boring."

"It is."

We sat in silence for a little until I broke it. I'm not one to break silences because usually I just don't care. But Beckett infected me with the disease he probably gives every teenage girl who likes dick. "Why'd you come tonight?"

Beckett looked at me while he pulled from the cigarette. "I had nothing better to do. Plus, that Bethany girl really fucking wanted me to, so I did."

"How do you like a classic Woodland Hills throw down?"

He laughed. "It's pretty shit, actually. Nobody's doing anything other than pong or talking."

"Consider this a formal initiation, then. There's nothing to do here other than that."

Beckett looked at me. "You're Maya, right?" he asked.

I nodded. "And you're Beckett. The new kid."

He smiled into his cigarette. "Are people talking?"

"You're the first new kid since, like, middle school. I mean I think we've had others, but nobody this interesting."

Beckett looked at me. "You think I'm interesting?"

I looked back at him, the way his shaggy black hair fell into his eyes, the way his ocean eyes seemed to penetrate through any wall of security I built up around myself. "Yeah," I replied. "I do."