CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY
BLAKE’S POV

“Interesting place to call a meeting,” I said as I flung my bag to the side and sat down by the edge of the pool. Claire had a lazy smile on her face and it highlighted the freckles on her cheeks.

“I figured everyone was going to the external library, right, so why not meet where people basically forgot existed?”

The pool at our school was the closest thing we had to a haunted house. Yes! Even the external library wasn’t as creepy and eery as the pool. And I bet no where else was colder. No one went there anymore even though the pool was filled with water and occasionally cleaned. The swim team was scrapped the same time the football team was so no one had a reason to go all the way to the end of the school anymore. Well, except Claire Reagan.

“Trouble in paradise my good man?” she asked, cocking her head to the side to get a better view of my face.

“You know, skipping class as often as you do is not so great for your academic portfolio.”

“Trying to change the subject and all you could think of was to bring up a topic I had no interest in? Smart.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds before Claire spoke up again. “Did you have an argument with your boyfriend?”

I raised my brow at her questioningly and was about to tell her I wasn’t gay when she sighed and shook her head.

“I’m obviously referring to Anthony. I know you’re dating his sister and everything, but you have to admit, the two of you have more chemistry than what you have going on with Crystal. Now I ask again, trouble in paradise my good man?”

I liked Claire Reagan. She was...unique. I’d have loved to refer to her as crazy, but I thought that word just didn’t do her justice.

“I wouldn’t say we had an argument.” I thought of the best way to describe the manner in which Anthony broke my heart into a billion pieces and succeeded in making me know for sure that he never liked me and never considered me a friend.

“More like a revelation of true intentions and thoughts.” It was Claire’s turn to raise her brows questioningly.

“So, basically you both said some things you didn’t mean?”

“I didn’t say anything hurtful to him and I’m a hundred percent certain he meant every word he said to me.” Just thinking about his statement about how I was the reason Blaire was no longer alive made my heart cry out like a banshee. He knew how guilty I felt when she had that accident and he knew the kind of pain I went through. How could he say that so casually if he ever thought of me as a friend?

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked in a sweet and caring tone. Her brown doe eyes were looking at me with a kindness that was all too familiar, and for a brief moment, she reminded me of my sister.

“No. It’ll just piss me off even more.”

The truth was I wanted to talk about it, but if I did, I’d cry. And I had no intentions of crying in front of Claire Reagan no matter how cool I thought she was or how comfortable I was around her.

“Hey, do you remember Mr. Bodger’s art contest that he made us all participate in back in third grade?”

One of the things that fascinated me about Claire was her ability to change the topic of discussion and bring up something totally random, without looking like a snub or someone who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings while also sparking interest in the person she was talking to.

“I remember every moment of that damned contest!” I said a little too spitefully. “I remember being especially mad that Anthony wasn’t the one that was chosen to visit The Clarion Museum of Arts and Crafts.”

Despite the fact that I was currently mad at Anthony and didn’t want to have anything to do with him, I couldn’t help but be infuriated at the injustice meted to him during the judging of that art contest. Ten-year-olds are not known for their adeptness and dexterity and I admit that we all sucked and most of us had our parents do our projects for us (guilty), but Anthony made that amazing miniature version of The Pentagon with stuffs he got while dumpster diving (I was there when he did that. He didn’t let me leave until he got all the ‘good stuff.’ He even made me carry them home for him. Yuck!) and he didn’t even place second!

“I promised myself to never ever put any effort into any art project ever again.”

“Like you even made your sculpture yourself back then,” Claire said and snickered.

“Well, I saw how awesomeness was rewarded and I decided that being average was the way to go. Mr. Bodger is so lucky he got transferred to another school. I would have made him pay for that unfair ranking.”

“To be honest, I felt the exact same way you did back then. My model was pretty nice, and I admit I did get help from my baby sitter – we did it together. But when I came to school and saw Anthony’s model, I thought for sure he was going to win. I mean, every single person was admiring it and it looked magnificent. Everyone knew he was going to get it and he was so excited to go to that art museum, he even picked out the clothes he was going to wear and prepared questions for Clarion when he got there!”

I remember him writing down questions that he needed answered by Clarion, the owner of the museum and the person that was granting the award. He was so excited for the entire week that I didn’t hear anything but art, pottery, sculptures and museums all week. It drove me mad, but I was happy for him. I hated that he didn’t end up going.

“Everyone knew Anthony was going to win, so it came as a shock to me as well as the rest of the class when Mr. Bodger came to class the next Friday and announced that Steven Rice was going to go the museum instead for the magnificent cauliflower piece he had prepared.”

“That cauliflower piece was nothing but trash! Even Evelyn’s rose garden was better and that was literally trash! I saw her take the flowers from the trash can in front of the school and shove them in a box that morning.”

“All week everyone kept looking at Anthony with sad eyes and pity. It was the first and only time that people paid more attention to Anthony than they did to you. Well, excluding after he came out. I also wondered why he did that. I have a tendency to become obsessive and ponder on things for the longest of times.”

I did not doubt that at all. The other day when we went to the amusement park, I told her I couldn’t get on the Ferris Wheel and she pestered me about the reason why. I had to tell her because she just wouldn’t shut up! Because of this statement, I was beginning to think that she was actually trying to make a point with this infuriating memory that she dug up.

“So, I asked Mr. Bodger about it and he told me.”

She paused here, like she was done with the story and started swirling the water below with her feet. Her ending the story at a cliffhanger had me on edge and I snapped.

“The hell did he tell you?!” She jumped a little at the sound of my loud voice and her eyes widened.

“Jeez, man, haven’t you heard of dramatic pauses?” I exhaled and calmed down while I waited for her to get over her desire to be extra.

“Remember when you had the chicken pox and didn’t come to school for an entire week?” I wouldn’t lie, it was a bit fascinating to hear about things that happened in my life from someone I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago and that was only because she was on the verge of dying. It made me realize how self centred I was and how I didn’t notice the people around me. Claire had been in my class ever since we were kids, but I never once noticed her. You’d think that the blazing red hair she had would make her stand out like a sore thumb, but no. I really was a complete jerk.

“Yeah. It was the worst time of my life. I couldn’t do anything and it itched like I was covered in poison ivy.”

“Yeah. What would you equate the prospect of Anthony going to that art museum to in your life?”

“Well...” I thought back to his excited state and how his whole body glowed just from the thought of looking at sculptures made by artists he admired. I thought of how happy he was when he got complimented by almost everyone in school for a job well done. Then I thought of how I was when I received my first basketball as a gift from my dad.

“It’ll be equivalent to me going to an NBA game and having my basketball autographed by Kobe Bryant or MJ.” Her eyes widened in excitement.

“You had your basketball autographed by Michael Jordan?”

“Yes. Actually, I have five basketballs autographed by five different players. It’s my greatest collection,” I said with pride. She was about to ask another question about my balls but remembered she was in the middle of making a point and went back to it.

“Well, would you have been able to give up such an opportunity for whatever reason?”

“Are you kidding me? A chance to meet my heroes in the flesh and get their signatures on my possession? As if!”

“Well, I’ll have you know that Anthony Pearce gave up that opportunity to meet his hero in the flesh so that you wouldn’t have to be a depressed little chicken pox-ridden ten-year-old boy all by yourself.”

“No way!” I didn’t mean for it to sound so dismissive and doubtful – I was just stunned by the news. Mr. Bodger made a bad judgement. There was no way Anthony would have given up such an amazing opportunity just so he could hang out with me while I was bed ridden and cranky and irritable.

“Look Blake, I don't know whatever lover’s quarrel you two had, but I know that Anthony loves you and cares about you with all his heart and if he said something mean and hurtful to you it was probably because he was really angry. I know that’s not an excuse to be an asshole, but we are all humans and we do make mistakes. I want to believe that whatever you two argued about, he strongly believes that he was wronged and you probably didn’t apologize and he got mad and said what he shouldn’t have said.”

I let her words sink in. The memory of his accusation about something I supposedly did in ninth grade came to me. He said it with so much conviction, like he was a hundred percent certain I did something to hurt him and he was still clearly pissed about it. But no matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t remember doing something terrible of that magnitude to him back then. We were best friends, and I cared about him to a fault and would have never done anything to hurt him. He was the one who started acting weird around me after he came out to me. It made me think that he was regretting his decision to tell me about his sexuality and I felt bad about it. If he had opened up to me about what he was planning to do, I would have probably talked him out of coming out to the whole school then until he was ready to do so. He couldn’t handle the bullying and he didn’t want to lean on me. Instead, he took his anger and frustration out on me and decided to end our friendship.

Hearing her talk about how he must strongly believe I did something terrible to him made me rethink everything. I wanted to understand where he was coming from, really, I did, but I was too mad at him for bringing up Blaire. No matter how angry and hurt he was, he shouldn’t have said that.

“I don't think Anthony ever liked me as a friend.”

“Even after I just told you about the museum thing?” she asked incredulously. If that story was true, then maybe he did care about me. But that was when we were younger and he had no one else to play with. He probably grew tired of me and stopped caring like he did before.

“Well, maybe he did at some point. But he doesn’t now. I just know it.”

Claire grabbed my face and turned it towards her. Her expression was soft and endearing and, in that moment, she really did look like Blaire.

“Sweetie, talk to Anthony.”

“He mentioned Blaire,” I responded stubbornly. But Claire didn’t give up. She really had a knack for not minding her own business.

“I don't know who that is, but you tortured and humiliated him for three years with your assholic friends. Give the guy a break.”

We said nothing again after that. Claire continued to play with the water with her feet while I thought about what she said. I was mad at Anthony and I really didn’t want to talk to him ever again. But if there was a tiny chance that he had this notion that I did something unforgiveable to him back in ninth grade, then it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to clear my name and make amends. But, if he did think I did something wrong to him, why didn’t he confront me about it? Didn’t friends do that anymore?

I didn’t have time to ponder about the delicate yet complicated relationship that was friendship because in that moment Claire decided that I needed a bath.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed, laughing wildly. “Your hair looks so much better wet.”

The water was frigging cold and my teeth began to chatter. She didn’t care that it was late November and the pool area did not have proper heating since no one went there anymore

It took me a while to get my bearings and get air back in my lungs, but when I finally did, I made sure she was right by side like a true friend. What can I say? Misery sure did love company.