Reason to Breathe

3. Distraction





“You will never believe who just asked me…”


I wasn’t able to throw my varsity jersey over my head in time. I closed my eyes and took a breath in preparation for her reaction.

“Shit,” Sara whispered, still frozen at the door of the locker room.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I knew the large circular bruises that covered my right shoulder and continued to the middle of my back said more than enough.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I mumbled, still not having the heart to face her.

“Looks pretty bad to me,” she murmured. “I can’t believe that was for forgetting to take out the trash.” We were interrupted by voices and laughter, as a few girls entered the locker room. The girls brushed past Sara, who remained unmoving in the doorway.

“Hey, Emma. We just heard about you telling off the hot new guy,” one of the girls exclaimed when she noticed me. “He must have totally pissed you off,” added another as they began to change.

“I don’t know. I guess he caught me on a bad day,” I mumbled, my face changing color. I picked up my shoes, socks, and shin guards and left the room before anyone could say anything else, especially Sara.

I sat at the top of the steps leading to the fields in the back of the school and proceeded to put on my shin guards and shoes. I needed to gather myself after everything that had happened in under two hours. This was not how my days were supposed to go. No one tried to get involved with me, and I kept to myself. This was the place where everything was supposed to be safe and easy. How could Evan Mathews unravel my constant universe in just one day?

That’s when I heard his voice again. What was with this guy? First I didn’t notice him for almost a week, and now I couldn’t avoid him. He exited the guys’ locker room below the steps, talking to another guy I didn’t know about giving him a ride to the football game the next night. I caught his eye, and he nodded to me in recognition. Why wasn’t I invisible to him like I was to everyone else? To my relief, he continued to jog toward the practice fields with a small black bag in his hand. From his attire, I realized he was heading to the guys’ soccer field. Great, he played soccer.

The sun danced off the glints of gold in his tousled light brown hair as he jogged further away. Lean muscles along his back brushed against his over-worn t-shirt. Why did he have to look like he just stepped off of an Abercrombie bag?

“Nice,” Sara exhaled looking after the same image. I turned with a start, not realizing she was next to me. Heat spread across my cheeks, fearing she could read my thoughts. “Stop it - he’s hot. It’s just taken you way too long to notice.”

Before I could defend myself, a bus pulled up along the dirt road that circled the school, separating the fields from the building. The open windows carried the synchronized chanting and hollering that were indicative of a high school sports team.

“Who are we going to beat?” several boisterous voices screamed.

“Weslyn High!” the bus rumbled in response.

“Don’t think so,” Sara stated. I smirked and jogged with her to the field.

~~~~~

“Omigod!” Sara screamed, as we drove home. “Stanford! Emma, this is so amazing!”

I couldn’t find the words to say anything. The stunned smile on my face said it all. I was soaring from our win, then taken to a different level when I discovered four colleges were scouting the game in which I happened to score three out of the four goals.

“I can’t believe they’re going to fly you out there this spring,” she continued in a rush. “You have to take me with you! California! Can you imagine?”

“Sara, he said that they’d be interested in setting up a visit, depending on next quarter’s transcript.”

“Come on, Emma. That’s not going to change. I don’t think you’ve received less than an ‘A’ your entire life.”

I wanted to be as confident, but then we pulled into my driveway. I was immediately grounded – the win and the scouts dispersing like I woke from a dream into a nightmare.

Carol strolled up the driveway from the mailbox, pretending to get the mail. She was up to something, and my heart sank into my stomach. Sara glanced over at me, just as concerned.

“Hi, Sara,” she said, completely ignoring me as I got out of the car. “How are your parents?”

Sara smiled her dazzling smile and replied, “They’re wonderful, Mrs. Thomas. How have you been?”

Carol sighed her exasperated, pathetic sigh. “I’m surviving.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sara returned politely, not falling for the woe is me bullshit.

“Sara, I feel terribly uncomfortable asking you without speaking to your parents directly.” I froze in anticipation. “But I was wondering if it would be a bother to allow Emily to stay the night tomorrow night. George and I are going out of town, and it would be easier if she were with someone who was responsible. But I don’t want her interrupting your plans.” She spoke of me as if I weren’t standing next to the car, listening.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I was planning to go to the library to work on a paper. I’ll check with my parents when I get home.” Sara smiled, playing along with Carol’s façade.

“Thank you. We would be so appreciative.”

“Good night, Mrs. Thomas.” Carol waved back as Sara drove away. She turned her attention to me in disgust.

“You have no idea how humiliating it is to have to beg people to take you just so that your uncle and I can spend some time together. It’s a good thing Sara pities how pathetic you are. I have no idea how she can stand to be around you.”

She turned and walked back to the house, leaving me standing in the driveway. Her words circled me like cutting barb.

There was a time when I thought she was right. That Sara was only my friend because she felt bad for me. Honestly, all you had to do was look at us standing next to each other to easily conclude the same thing. Sara, in all her gorgeous brilliance, compared to me in my ordinary plainness. But I learned that my friendship with Sara was probably the only thing I could really trust.

I entered the house to find life waiting for me with the sink full of dishes and pans from dinner. I set my bags in my room and returned to clean up. I didn’t mind the monotony of washing the dishes, especially tonight – engrossing myself in scrubbing to keep from smiling.

~~~~~

When I woke the next morning, I felt more optimistic than I’d felt in a long time. I had my backpack over one shoulder and a tote bag full of clothes in my hand.

Then reality came crashing down with a jolting tug of my hair. “Don’t embarrass me,” seethed into my ear. I nodded - my neck tense, resisting getting any closer to her as she tightened her hold of my hair with her hot breath scorching my skin. And just as quickly as it happened, she was gone – calling sweetly to the kids to come down for breakfast.

Sara was giddy when I entered the car. She gave me a hug and exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’re going to the game tonight!”

I pulled back, still shaken by the threat. “Sara, she’s probably watching. We’d better get going before she changes her mind and locks me in the basement for the night.”

“Would she do that?” Sara appeared concerned.

“Just drive.” Yes. She would, was the answer I couldn’t say out loud.

Sara drove off. The top was up since the brisk fall air was finally catching up with us as we headed into October. The leaves on the trees were beginning their yearly change to the vibrant hues of red, orange, gold and yellow. The colors looked brighter to me today, maybe because I was actually paying attention. Despite Carol’s threat, I was still floating from our team’s win along with the positive comments from the Stanford scout. And knowing I was going to the game with Sara tonight eased a smile on my face that actually felt comfortable. This would be my very first football game – it only took me three years.

“I’ve decided that before we go tonight, I’m going to pamper you a little.”

I looked at her cautiously. “What are you planning?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it!” Sara beamed.

“Okay,” I gave in. I feared my idea of being pampered was going to be completely different than what Sara had in mind. I preferred to hang out, watch movies and eat junk. While that might seem very predictable and boring to most teenagers, this was a true luxury to me. I decided not to worry about it. She knew me, so I trusted her.

“I’m going to ask him out tonight after the game,” Sara declared while we walked to the school from the parking lot.

“How are you going to do it?” I was finally able to ask after tunneling through Sara’s entourage and their gleeful morning acknowledgements. I couldn’t believe how matter of fact she was about putting herself out there. But then again, who would say no to her? “No” didn’t seem to be in Sara’s vocabulary, whether it was receiving it, or saying it.

“I was thinking, but only if it’s okay with you,” she gave me an apprehensive glance, “that after the game we would go to Scott Kirkland’s party, and I’ll ask Jason to meet me there.”

A party?! I’d never been to a party before either. I overheard the gossip about them in the halls and locker room and even saw the mementos hanging in the lockers throughout the junior and senior halls. It was a rite of passage I wasn’t privy to and wasn’t sure I was ready for. A wave of panic surged through me just thinking about walking through the doors and having everyone stare at me.

Then I looked into Sara’s anxious blue eyes and knew this was important to her. I could make meaningless small talk with people I’d been in school with for the past four years, yet knew nothing about. This would definitely be interesting.

“That sounds great,” I said, forcing a smile, falling in line with all the others unable to disappoint Sara.

“Really? We don’t have to go to the party. I could figure something else out. You looked pale when I mentioned it.”

“No, I want to go,” I lied.

“Perfect!” Sara exclaimed, hugging me again. She was very affectionate today; it was throwing me off. I think she realized it too because she pulled back. “Sorry, I’m just so excited that you’re going with me. I don’t think I could go through with it if you weren’t there. Besides, we hardly ever get out of school time together, so this is going to be the best.”

I smiled awkwardly, my stomach still twisting with thoughts of the party. It was for Sara. I could get through it. What was the worst that could happen? Well… people might actually try to talk to me. My stomach turned again just thinking about it. This was going to be terrible. I swallowed hard.

More than ever, I needed to retreat to Art class to recover from panicked thoughts of the party. Art was the rotating class that moved through my schedule. Today it took the place of English, as my first class - thankfully. I was desperate to escape in my work.

I walked into the open space of the Art room, inhaling the calming scents of paints, glue and cleaning chemicals with a gentle smile. It was inviting and warm with its tall yellow walls covered with art projects and the oversized windows that glowed with natural light. I breathed easier in this room. No matter how my day was going or what I left behind at home, I gained control over it in here.

Ms. Mier greeted us as we sat at our stools at the tall black work tables. Ms. Mier was the sweetest, kindest person I’d ever met. Compassion exuded from her, which made her an amazing artist and an inspirational teacher.

She invited us to continue working on our assignments from last class, replicating a picture with movement we tore from a magazine. There was some murmuring, but it was fairly quiet as the attention was primarily focused on the art. The quiet was another reason I loved this class so much.

My heart skipped a beat – amongst the murmurs, one stood out. I didn’t want to look but was drawn to the smooth voice. There he was, standing at the front of the class, talking to Ms. Mier while holding a camera. She flipped through a book of what appeared to be photographs, making comments. He glanced up and grinned when he saw me. I shot my eyes back to my canvas. I wished I really were invisible.

“So I guess you are pretty good,” Evan said from beside me. I looked up from my canvas. My heart was behaving insanely, beating at a pace that didn’t coincide with sitting still. Calm down – what was wrong with me? He continued when I could only stare up at him blankly. “Soccer. That was quite the game yesterday.”

“Oh, thanks. Are you in this class too?” I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

“Sort of,” he responded. “I asked to switch to this class if I could work on photography projects instead. Ms. Mier agreed, so here I am.”

“Oh,” was all I could mutter. He grinned, which sent more color to my face. My body was betraying me – between my hyperactive heart and my fiery face, I had no control. It was not like me, and it was driving me crazy.

To my relief, Ms. Mier interrupted us before the possession could completely humiliate me. “So you know Emma Thomas? That’s wonderful.”

“We met yesterday,” Evan replied, glancing at me with a smile.

“I’m happy to see that you’ve made some connections. Emma, would you mind showing Evan the photo lab supplies and the dark room?” My heart went from being on speed, to a dead stop, but my face kept beaming red. It must have been radiating heat by now.





“Sure,” I said quickly.

“Thank you.” Ms. Mier smiled in appreciation. Why was she, of all people, torturing me?

Without looking at Evan, I stood and walked to the back corner of the room. I slid open one of the cabinets that hung above the counter.

“This is the cabinet with all of the photo supplies. There’s paper, developer, whatever you need.” I slid the door shut, with my back to him.

On the counter below I pointed to the paper cutter and sizing equipment. We crossed the room to the dark room, where I explained the developing light and the switch on the inside wall to turn it on.

“Do you mind if we look inside?” he asked.

I stopped breathing for a few seconds. “Sure,” I replied, glancing at him for the first time.

We walked into the small rectangular room. In the center was a long metal table lined with trays for developing pictures. There was a sink in the back right corner. Cabinets lined the long wall on the right and to the left were two rows of wires with black clips for drying the developed pictures. Even though the developing light wasn’t on, the space seemed unnaturally dark – not a place I wanted to be alone with Evan Mathews.

“Here it is,” I declared, holding my palms up to present the room.

Evan walked past me toward the cabinets and started opening them, examining their contents. “Why don’t you talk to anyone besides Sara?” I heard him ask from behind the cabinet door. He closed the door, anticipating my answer.

I remained frozen. “What do you mean?” I shot back, sounding defensive again.

“You don’t talk to anyone,” he stated. “Why not?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to answer.

“Okay,” he recognized my stalling. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

“That was direct,” I accused. He smiled, causing my heart to attempt another escape from my chest.

“Well…” he pushed.

“Because I’m not sure I like you,” I blurted without thought. He looked at me with that devious, amused grin. What kind of reaction was that?! I couldn’t stay in the confined space with him any longer. I turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

Concentration evaded me for the remainder of class, leaving my art piece unfinished. Evan left to take pictures of whatever he took pictures of, but his presence lingered. This class was supposed to be my sanctuary, and leave it to Evan to turn it upside down.

Sara noticed my agitation when we were switching books at our lockers.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Evan Mathews is in my Art class,” I fumed.

“And…” Sara looked confused, waiting for me to continue.

I shook my head, unable to find the words to explain how disruptive he was to my predictable day. As much as Sara understood me, I wasn’t ready to talk about it. My blood was still surging; I was having difficulty collecting my thoughts.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said in a rush and walked away. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening to me. I survived by keeping my emotions in check – by maintaining my composure and tucking it all away. I managed to stay under the radar, skating through school without anyone truly remembering I was here. My teachers acknowledged my academic successes and my coaches depended upon my athletic abilities, but I wasn’t important enough to make a recognizable social contribution. I was easily forgettable. That’s what I counted on.

There were times when people tried to befriend me by talking to me or inviting me to a party, but that didn’t last long. Once it was obvious I wouldn’t accept the invitations, or provide more than one or two word answers, I wasn’t interesting enough to acknowledge any longer - making my life easier.

Sara was the only one who stuck by me when I first moved here four years ago. After six months of Sara persistently inviting me over, Carol finally said yes. She wanted to go shopping with a friend and didn’t want to bring me along, so the invitation was convenient for her. That serendipitous moment sealed our friendship. I’ve been permitted to go to Sara’s on occasion, and I got to sleep over on rare occasions when it suited Carols’ social schedule. It helped that Sara’s father was a local judge, so Carol relished the prestige through affiliation.

Last summer I was even allowed to go to Maine with Sara and her family for a week. It coincided with a camping trip George and Carol had planned with the kids. When Sara’s parents invited me, they made it sound like they were inviting the entire soccer team and were obligated to include me, which made it easier for Carol to agree. I ended up paying for it when I returned home – I guess I wasn’t grateful enough.

But the bruises couldn’t take away the best week of my life. It was during that week I met Jeff Mercer. Jeff was a lifeguard at the beach that was walking distance from the lodge. His family owned a summer house on the lake, so he stayed for the season and worked as a lifeguard.

For two days, we went to the beach and drooled over him. After his shift on the second day, he invited Sara and me to a bon fire party at a private beach.

When Jeff introduced us to his friends, I lied and said I was Sara’s cousin from Minnesota. That lie developed into a more elaborate story that Sara and I pre-fabricated before the party. My false life revealed itself comfortably, allowing me to be anyone I wanted and no one knew the difference. I didn’t have to be invisible, because I really didn’t exist.

Swept up in my story, I allowed Jeff to get close to me. I was able to talk and laugh with ease. Jeff and I ended up having a lot in common - he played soccer and we listened to a lot of the same music. He was an easy person to like.

At the end of the night, while everyone was sitting around the fire either coupled off, or involved in conversations, Jeff sat next to me on the sand, leaning against a large log, intended to be a bench. In the midst of the calming mood, with the sounds of a few guys playing guitar in the background, he put his arm around me, and I leaned against him. Being against him was oddly comfortable considering this was the closest I’d ever been to a guy.

We talked and listened to the music. He shifted his body to face me and casually leaned down to kiss me. I remember not breathing for a minute, paralyzed with fear that it was obvious I hadn’t kissed anyone before. He was gentle as his soft, thin lips touched mine.

It wasn’t easy saying good-bye, with false promises of emailing; but it wasn’t hard either. Not for Emma Thomas from Weslyn, Connecticut – the overachieving, self-contained shadow who roamed the halls of Weslyn High. It wasn’t hard because that girl didn’t truly exist to Jeff.

That’s what was bothering so much about Evan Mathews. He knew I existed. He was determined to pull me out from the shadows, and I couldn’t get away from him. He wasn’t deterred by my one word answers or abrupt responses. He wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to me, and I was trying, without success, to ignore him. But he was getting to me, and I think he knew it – and it seemed to amuse him.

I took a deep breath before entering my A.P. European History class, prepared to see him as I walked in the room. He wasn’t there. I looked around in surprise and felt my heart sink. That was another problem. My heart was beating, stopping and sinking like it had a mind of its own, not to mention the absurd flushing that was overtaking my face. I was beyond annoyed!

Evan wasn’t in my Chemistry class either. Maybe he wouldn’t be everywhere as I feared. Distracted with retrieving my homework assignment during Trig, I tensed at the sound of his voice, inciting the rapid beating in my chest.

“Hi.”

I continued opening my notebook for today’s lesson, refusing to look at him.

“Not talking to me at all now, huh?”

Angered by his antagonism, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I turned to face him.

“Why do you want to talk to me? What could you possibly want to talk to me about?” I snapped.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise but quickly replaced the look with his taunting, amused grin.

“And why do you keep looking at me like that?!” My face flushed as I tightened my jaw.

Before Evan could answer, Mr. Kessler walked in to begin class. I stared at my book and the front of the classroom throughout the period. I could feel him looking over at me every so often - it kept me on edge the entire class.

As I was gathering my books to head to Anatomy, I heard him say behind me, “Because I think you’re interesting.”

I slowly turned around, with my books clutched firmly to my chest.

“You don’t even know me,” I replied defiantly.

“I’m trying.”

“There are so many other people in this school - you don’t have to know me.”

“But I want to,” he replied with a grin.

I walked out of the class, confused. He never said what I thought he should. What was I supposed to say? I started to panic.

“Can I walk with you to Anatomy?” I was too distracted to realize that he’d followed me out of the room.

“You are not in my Anatomy class too, are you?!” Seriously, the world was conspiring against me, along with my rapidly beating heart. I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t fill my lungs.

“Didn’t notice me at all this week, huh?” People stopped to look at us as we walked down the hall. I’m sure their universe was getting tipped upside down too, to witness Emma Thomas walking down the hall with another student, who was also a guy – the same guy she made a scene with in the hall yesterday. Let the gossip begin.

It didn’t take long to reach the classroom due to my escaping pace. I stopped outside of Anatomy and turned to face him. He peered down at me in anticipation.

“I get that you’re new, and I must seem intriguing to you. But I assure you, I’m not that interesting. You really don’t need to get to know me. I get good grades. I’m decent at sports, and I keep myself busy. I like my privacy. I like my space, and I like being left alone. That’s it. You can get to know everyone else in this school who’s dying to know you. I’m not. Sorry.”

He grinned.

“And stop looking at me like I’m entertaining you. I’m not amused, so leave me alone.” I rushed into the classroom. I thought I would feel better, relieved – but I didn’t. Instead, I felt defeated.

I had no idea where Even sat during Anatomy, but it wasn’t next to me. Actually, no one was sitting next to me. The seat where Karen Stewart usually sat at my table was empty. Karen was always lost during the lessons and constantly asked me questions to try to keep up. Today, I finally had the silence I kept pushing everyone away to get, but it wasn’t comforting.

By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, I was over it. Knowing I was staying over at Sara’s and didn’t have to return home helped – as did not seeing Evan again.

“Hi!” Sara greeted me as we gathered our books from our lockers. “I feel like I haven’t seen you at all today. How are you? You didn’t get to tell me…”

“Don’t mention it. Later, okay? I’m finally feeling better and just want to have fun tonight, alright?” I pleaded.

“Come on, Em. Don’t do this to me. I heard you and Evan walked together to Anatomy. You have to tell me what’s going on.”

I hesitated, not wanting to say anything where we could be overheard. I scanned the halls, stalling to make sure I wasn’t going to add to the already circulating gossip.

“He keeps trying to talk to me,” I explained to Sara. I thought this might be enough, but Sara shrugged her shoulders, waiting for me to continue.

“You were right yesterday. He told me he thinks I’m interesting, whatever that means. Sara, he’s in all of my classes, or at least it feels like it. I can’t get away from him – he’s always right there.

“I finally told him that I wasn’t interesting and to leave me alone. That’s what the walk to Anatomy was about. I don’t get this guy.”

“Em, he’s interested in you. Why is that so bad?” Sara asked, genuinely perplexed. I was surprised she didn’t understand the problem.

“Sara, I can’t have anyone interested in me. You’re my only friend for a reason.” Her eyes lowered, beginning to understand my dilemma.

“I can’t go out. I don’t go to the movies. Tonight will be the first and probably only party I’ll ever go to. I don’t want to have to lie. And if anyone ever got close enough to touch me…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of being afraid to be touched because I might cringe in pain made me shudder.

I wished I didn’t have to be so convincing, but until I said it, Sara hadn’t put it together. For just a moment, she saw the world through my eyes, and her sorrowed expression made my chest tighten.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should’ve realized. So, I guess you shouldn’t talk to him.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her with a tight smile. “I have six hundred seventy-two days left and then anyone can find me interesting.”

She smiled back but not as big as usual.

The pity in Sara’s evasive eyes reflected the patheticness of my life, it was hard to take. It was harder to escape – literally.

I couldn’t remember a time when my life wasn’t a disaster. I had images of a smiling child stored in shoe boxes, but my father was usually included in the pictures. When he was taken away, I was left with a mother who didn’t know how to be one. So, I did everything I could to get by with as little parental interaction as possible. If I was perfect, then there wasn’t anything to regret, or distract her from the replacements she sorted through, who would never live up to my father.

I was still too much – a burden. I hoped my academic drive would help my aunt and uncle accept me as an addition to their family. Unfortunately, the reception never warmed beyond the frigid steps when I crossed the threshold four winters ago. Guilt opened the door that night, and I couldn’t be perfect enough to earn their forgiveness for what they never wanted. So, I’ve mastered evasion and over-achievement. Neither as deftly as I’d prefer, since Carol was right there to brand me with my lack of worth at every opportunity.