Chapter Text
December 20th, 2013, 116 days left
Andie Bell was six years old when she learned that fairytales and happy endings simply couldn't exist. At that age she was a girl that was weaved from stories of magic, damsels in distress, justice, and happily ever after. She only existed in the late of night under the covers, reading stories. It was that age when she also learned that secrets can ruin any life. Secrets seemed to exist with her in the late of night. The night after Thanksgiving, after Becca had fallen asleep at the beginning of The Princess and the Pea, the house was silent. Silent enough that she could hear when her parents started arguing in the room down the hall. None of it could have made sense to her, but even as a six year old with little comprehension, she knew it was bad. It was a new story that weaved itself into her. One of an unraveling of lies, a girl who wasn't a princess, and a faraway city that never slept. Once the final words had entwined themselves into her meek bones, she found herself back in the first story of the night. The rainbow bunny stuffed animal between her and a sleeping Becca was all that she could think about. It couldn't feel any more out of place. The way it felt against her side made her want to crawl out of her skin more and more with each second that past. She wasn't a princess, and it wasn't a pea.
She was a town over, putting on lipstick for a party when she found out. The same way she was now. The dark red smudged against her cheek, paling her skin even more. She'd been up all night looking through old posts for at least some clarity of when it started. She should've known he was cheating on her mom. With all the comments about how pretty she used to be, and the late night meetings when he thought everyone had already drifted to sleep.
"Wait so Sal's dating Mr. Ward's daughter now? I'm so confused," Emma broke the silence, coming out of her closet in a blue crop-top and shorts with rhinestoned butterflies.
Andie wiped the red lipstick away barely turning her eyes toward them.
"I don't care who he's dating. I thought we had something during the summer, but apparently he didn't. Can you pass me my computer I need to edit before I party."
Chloe passed her the laptop out from her bag before giving Emma the most obvious subtle glance that Andie had ever seen. A subtle glance that carried too much meaning. She knew she was mildly fucked up, but she didn't need her friends knowing it. Chloe exhaled in the way that usually followed these glances. It was a game of who was going to crack first and it couldn't be her. She opened her laptop clicking away the open tabs, flipping to her documents. While she stalked her parents at midnight, she made a time table of possible instances where he could have been with other women. She clicked it away shaking her head like it would clear the thoughts. Finally, she opened her mess of an essay.
"Andie you don't even like writing, and we need booze. Come on, people are getting here in like five minutes and impressing our English teacher who I'm pretty sure hates you isn't going to make you any happier. So you can either tell us what's wrong or go get totally wasted." Chloe put a hand on her shoulder, putting on the best comforting voice she could. Sometimes Andie was sure they couldn't survive without knowing everything about her. What lipstick she wore on Christmas Eve two years ago, which boys were hitting on her over the summer, what happened with Becca and why couldn't she leave her home alone. She reacted the same way every time, a small smile and a short answer. It was what kept them friends with her. Her only friends.
"Ms. Fredrick said we could do an essay on anything for extra credit. As scandalous as it might seem, I like writing about things that I'm actually interested in," she said, highlighting a sentence for later, before smiling at them from the mirror.
"Okay, but you came here to party. You didn't make yourself look absolutely gorgeous to sit here all night. I mean, you always look absolutely gorgeous, but let's get downstairs please." Emma opened her bedroom door before shutting Andie's computer. There was nothing else in the world that she could possibly dread more than facing the universe that would arrive once the calamity started. Even so, there was nothing else in the world she felt she needed to succumb to more. She needed to research, she needed to write, and she needed to make a plan. The same universe that she dreaded gave her the ability to make all of that disappear.
As soon as Emma opened the door, the mess of gangly, sweaty teenagers started pouring in. Andie pulled at the edges of her dress, giving smiles to the people who passed. Except for when Salil Singh passed her. Why was he here? He knew this was Emma's party. He knew she would be here. She knew it wasn't her decision to decide which parties he could go to, but hell if she wasn't going to make him know he didn't belong here. She kept her gaze away from his eyes as he smiled at her. She wasn't his to smile at.
The first time she saw him she felt she was sure that there was nothing else worth looking at. He was speaking to someone with a glowing smile that was better than any play she could ever watch. He caught her staring though. He came over to her with every intention of hijacking her evening. They spent the rest of their night ignoring the fireworks, talking to each other for hours about anything and everything they could. School, family, music, universal beginnings, hair, the history of fireworks. Whatever they could until their parents expected them home. Sal's idea was to drive her home, taking the longest possible route. She'd called it stupid, but still found herself in the passenger seat of his car laughing about things that weren't even objectively funny.
They spent the rest of the summer dating but not-dating until the summer bled into the school year. Like clockwork, he'd ask her out at the end of the week and she'd decline. She had no clue why she was declining something she wanted so much. Maybe because it would make it real, and real was scary.
Then last month, all of the magic faded away from her when Becca told her that he'd been kissing Naomi Ward over the summer as well.
None of that mattered now. She had other things to deal with. Like college. That's how she'd get away from this town. Not some boy who she was just a game to.
She poured herself a glass of some overly sugary, unnaturally neon drink. All that mattered was the alcohol in it. Tonight she'd forget her life, tomorrow she'd fix it.
She plopped down against the couch that Emma's parents had spent a good thirty minutes talking about before they left for their trip. It was new, and expensive and just another way for them to flaunt their money. She hated it.
She felt the weight of someone sit down next to her. It was supposed to an unspoken rule that if someone's leaned against a couch at a calamity, you leave them be. How stupid could this person be?
Oh.
"Of course it's you." The 'above it all attitude' she had with her friends left her body. She threw her hands up in the air dramatically, forgetting the drink obviously still in her hand. He had that effect on people. She especially hated that. Her sticky victim laughed.
"Okay, so you're obviously drunk. Are you okay to talk? You won't throw another drink on me, will you?" Sal licked a splash on lip, his face contorting like he'd licked a lemon. It was foreign to her, how he was never mad at her. She needed to add that to the list of things she hated about him.
"I didn't mean to. And I'm not drunk. I only got one sip in before the rest ended up all over your shirt." She finally looked at him, but somehow she managed to make it completely void of emotions. It was a look she specialized in.
"I don't know what happened between us, but I miss you. I had to talk to my brother about that newsletter you made me sign up for. He's sweet and all, but a terrible listener. I even came to this party when I should be studying because I knew you'd be here." Andie made him sign up for some random facts email newsletter back in August, so they'd always have something to talk about.
"Maybe you shoul've talked to Naomi about it. Or were you too busy sucking each other's faces off to get a word in?" She felt sort of like a child, crossing her arms and turning away. She kept him in her peripheral enough to see his face drop.
"Oh my god. That's what this is about? Andie, look at me," he turned her, looking at her like she was the most important thing in the world, "She kissed me once. During the summer while both of us were totally wasted. I'm pretty sure she thought I was Jake. Plus, I was completely enamored with you. I am completely enamored with you."
"Enamored? Are you a poet now?" She relinquished a small smile. A real one. She didn't need to trust him. She didn't trust anyone. That was what made her survive. Part of her wanted to. To just talk with him like there was no outside world. In her own personal fairytale.
"If you'd like that, then of course I am. Call me Emily Dickinson. Or not, she was more into death. Technically, historically, the first poet was Enheduanna, so call me Enheduanna?" He laughed, and suddenly to Andie there was no other sound worth hearing.
"Nope, you can't go back on it now, it's decided, you are now Emily Dickinson."
"Does that make you death?" He looked at her quizzically, speaking with a soft voice.
"If you write many, many poems about me, Emily."
"Consider it done."
To anyone passing by it would look like they were frozen in time. Unbothered by the events existing around them. They both took a minute to soak each other in. Each for different reasons.
Andie moved first, putting her hand on his chest before realizing it was covered in the sticky, disgusting, neon concoction. She pulled it off, blinking herself back into reality.
"Hey, I should probably get home and change, but I wouldn't be opposed to taking you home on an extra long route?" He stood up, offering his hand out to her.
"Do you promise to take me on a real date soon?" She tilted her head pointedly, taking his hand.
"You'll actually let me?" He pulled an overly exaggerated shocked face.
"I wouldn't be completely averse to it." She rolled her eyes, taking a step towards him.
"Then it'll happen. You should really spill your drink on me more often."
"I hate you," she said matter-a-fact-ly.
"As usual, I hate you too. Go get your stuff so I can take you home." He smiled.
Home. She realized the implications of that word as she stepped away from him. How she'd tell him to park at the other end of the street so her dad wouldn't see. How once she stepped inside her dad would make a joke that wasn't really a joke about her not being a respectable woman. How she'd have to face her family without telling them what she knew. Yet, she knew that would disappear from her head the minute she got into his car.