Chapter7. Gravity

It felt odd to wake up early. It felt odd to feel the coldness on my skin, to have the wind from the open window blow on my hair. The oddest thing was I used to like this feeling. I used to feel like a rebel being the only one up, like I was waving a middle finger at the monotonous life of Bear Creek.

Look at me, assholes. Look at me defy the gravity in which you've tied yourselves into. Look at me break from the cycle.

At least that's how it used to be. Today the déjà vu was making my stomach hurt.

It took me a while to go to the bathroom. I was sluggish, sleepy. I've grown unaccustomed to the rhythm that it almost felt like I was getting on my bike after I haven't ridden for years.

In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I haven't done that in a while too. I've been avoiding my image for years for some reason, and God, things have changed.

My hair had grown below my waist. What used to be a wave of red locks had become an untamable monster. It wasn't cute anymore. It was a disaster.

I pushed myself closer to the mirror and checked my face. Maybe I needed a gallon of moisturizer. Maybe I needed to trade my body altogether.

Going back to my room, I went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. The scissors I grabbed was a few years old, but it would still do the trick. I returned to the bathroom and took a lock of my hair. Time for a cut.

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted on my nose when I went down the stairs. Dad must have heard me. He peeked to see what was going on, the spatula still on his hand. "You're up early," he said.

I shrugged and went to the chair. It scraped on the carpet as I pulled it back to sit.

Dad hadn't removed his gaze from me. The corner of his mouth was curved into a pleased smile, a wrinkle on his forehead showing. Had he always looked so dad-like?

"What are you staring at?" I asked. He was getting kind of weird.

He shook his head and got back to the stove. The sizzling of the bacon had turned to popping. If he didn't take them out soon, they'd be burnt to a crisp. "You cut your hair," he observed.

"Yeah, so?"

He sighed as he scooped the bacon and placed them on a plate beside the stove. "I thought you've skipped the teenage angst when you turned seventeen. Seems like it's only beginning."

"Oh please, dad. I'm way past that nonsense. This is me in all my glory. It's not angst, it's called sarcastic personality."

"I noticed." He took the plate and turned around. I was surprised to see that the smile hadn't left his face when he went to the table.

"What are you smiling for?" I said.

His smile grew wider. "Welcome back," he said.

The two of us ate in total silence. I didn't know how to talk to him. What to talk to him about. We haven't shared a meal in who knew how long. We haven't sat down like this because I've always dashed out the door the first thing after waking up. I've been returning late at night from the Ruins too. I've been a bad daughter.

After eating, dad stood up and went to the living room. He returned with a paper bag on his hand. "This is yours," he said as he gave it to me. "Your new number is written on a paper. Everyone else's contact detail is already saved on the list."

I gave him a quizzical stare before opening the paper bag. A box was inside.

"It's a Blackberry," he said nervously. "The seller told me it's popular with teenagers your age. I hope you like it."

I took the box and examined the logo. There wasn't any picture to show me what it looked like. There was only the brand. "You didn't have to," I murmured.

"Everyone uses them."

"Not me."

"Well now you can," he urged. "It's important to keep up with the times. I bet in eight years, everything will be done with your cellphone."

There was a tightening sensation at the back of my throat. I swallowed the lump before he noticed. "Thanks, dad," I said.

He mistook the huskiness of my voice for happiness and nodded. It was all good, I guess. I didn't want him to know that I was seconds from choking.

"Great," he said. "If you need instructions, everything is written on the manual. The rest can be figured out."

"Okay." I bit my lip and stood. "I'll call you when I need anything."

"I believe the right term is text." He winked.

"Sure." The box was still on my hand as I went to his side and kissed his cheek. He was a good father, a good person. It would break his heart if I tell him that I hated the gift. There was no one to message anymore.

The phone rang when I was on my way to the Ruins. The shrill sound almost made me run in fright, or take cover behind a nearby bush. I calmed myself by pausing by a tree. The phone continued to ring even as I took it from the Styrofoam.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Waddup, Destiny!" Spencer screamed.

I pulled the phone from my ear and frowned. He was always so loud.

"Destiny, you there?"

"How'd you get my number?" I said.

"Your dad gave it to me and Es. So how do you find the BB so far? I recommended it to Papa Jones."

"You sell phones now?"

"It was a part-time for summer. Just a short stint."

Someone laughed on the background. It didn't sound like Ester.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"The bro's and— What do you call girls that are bros?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Okay, I'll call them that from now on. I honestly don't know." He laughed at himself. "By the way, I called to invite you to hang out with us today."

"I can't," I said.

"Pshh. Of course you can. You just don't want to."

There was an awkward silence.

"Come on, Des, it will be fun," he said after a while. "Senior year starts on Monday. Don't you want to be young and reckless for one more year?"

I was still silent, so he added, "And you promised me and Ester that you'll try. So try."

I considered his offer while he waited on the line. Young and reckless, he said. It would be like the old times. It would be like defying gravity again. "Alright," I gave in. "Tell me where."

There was a new hip restaurant in town called The Clown Room. That's where Spencer told me to go.

I hated it for many reasons. One being, I didn't like clowns. Two, because it wasn't a room, it was restaurant, so I thought the name was stupid. And three, because I wanted to go to Bertha's.

But because he'd guilt trip me into it, I still went.

The twins spotted me from the glass window. They were surrounded by people inside. People I didn't know or didn't care about. I pushed the door open and faked a smile. Nobody wanted a depressed person. Nobody wanted a depressed person who still had puppets in her backpack.

"You came," Ester said. She had the biggest smile in the group when I arrived.

They were all seated in the middle of the restaurant. Their tables and chairs have been pushed together so none of them would miss the gossip. I wonder what Ester was doing with them. She wasn't the type to hang out with the cool crowd, especially the jocks.

One of them, a guy in a varsity jacket, nudged his chin to me. "Who's the chick?" he asked.

His way of speaking immediately told me that we wouldn't be the best of friends. Add to that the jacket even though it was 90 degrees outside, and he was more or less dead in my book.

Spencer elbowed the guy and smiled sheepishly. "She's the girl I told you about." He glanced to me. "Destiny, meet Brad Cullman. Brad, meet Destiny Jones."

Brad, huh? So he'd been the one I was hearing of. I stared at the guy to make my assessment. Tall, nice smile, blonde. The next Mr. America, right there.

"He's your best friend," I said to Spencer.

"He's my bro," he corrected. "You and Ester are my best friends."

I turned my face away before he could see what those words did to me. Too bad Ester was on the other side. She shook her head and said, "That's right. The three of us are best friends. You, me, and Spencer."

"Woah. Woah. Woah," Brad said. He leaned back on his chair and draped an arm behind Spencer's. "Why so serious, guys? Give Destiny a place to sit first." He snapped his fingers to the guy in front of him. Like a general who'd been issued a command, the person vacated the spot for me.

I didn't feel bad as I took the seat. I felt empty. Who were these people anyway? How come I didn't notice them before?

"Brad's been to Bear Creek High since last year," Spencer explained on my behalf. I didn't need to tell him to do it. He knew my situation.

"I see. . ."

"And," he supplied. "He thought me football. He even vouched for me with the coach."

"It's nothing," Brad said. "My parents always said to spread the good word."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "I didn't think you were Christian."

Spencer cringed and shook his head. "No, Des. He's not. He's talking about his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Cullman."

"Haven't heard of them," I said.

"You haven't heard of a lot of things lately," Ester said before anyone could speak. She brought the straw to her lips and sipped. The milkshake in the glass was almost half. They've been here for a while.

"Brad's parents are reporters," Spencer went on. "They're hoping to make Bear Creek bigger than it is."

He and his bff were the only two people who looked like they wanted to continue the conversation. The rest of the guys on our table were like puppets nodding at their masters. Even Boy and Girl looked more sensible compared to them.

"So Destiny," Brad said. He leaned forward on his chair. "Where have you been hiding all this time?"

"The library. The school washroom. My bedroom." I shrugged.

"With a guy?"

"I guess you can say that."

His forehead wrinkled when he glanced at Spencer. "I though you said she's single."

"She is. She's probably talking about Boy."

"Who's Boy?"

"Never mind," Spencer said. He gave me an apologetic smile. "Want some milkshake? I'm buying."

Everyone's stares made me want to leave the table. I rose without saying anything and went to the counter.

Spencer was beside me in seconds. He was tall, way taller than I could remember. But even if his biceps got bigger, or his dark hair trimmed shorter, the smile he made was the dopey smile I liked. "Sorry for all the questions," he said. "The guys are just curious about you. You always keep your head down or excuse yourself at lunch. You're kind of a mystery to them."

I turned forward, pretending to look at the menu behind the counter. But really, I just wanted to avoid his eyes. "Have I been gone that long?"

His breath was heavy as he exhaled. "We couldn't reach you."

I nodded to myself. It felt like I was asleep all this time. Maybe I had to wake up.

"I'm here now," I said.

"I know." He reached to me and hesitated. He'd never hesitated before. His hand was light when he finally touched my shoulder. "We thought we'd never get you back. Don't leave us again."

I had a lot of catching up to do. Over the course of my, quote and quote, absence, many things have changed in Bear Creek. Shops have sprouted everywhere. Some people moved in. Spencer had made it to the football team, and even the school's standing was improving. If all of this continued, not only would a student get an opportunity to get a football scholarship in college, the whole town would be more commercialized too.

Brad drawled on and on about how he lived in the city all his life. How going to a small town like Bear Creek gave him culture shock. How people here were more at ease compared to the ones he used to know.

I had to endure his voice for all of two hours. I had to listen to his football achievements, hear about his trophy collection, and sympathize with him because women were becoming a bother.

I envied Ester who had taken a tissue and were scribbling formulas. I envied the staff behind the counter because at least he could watch the TV on the wall.

Me? I had to pretend to like it. I had to pretend I was cool, and I cared about this nonsense, and that I wasn't drowning inside while missing someone. I made a promise to my friends. Screw my happiness. I wasn't being selfish anymore.

My ears have begun to bleed when the group decided it was time to go. Actually, it was Brad who had decided everything. My ears didn't really bleed either. They just felt like it.

Spencer accompanied me to the door while the others bumped their fists to say goodbye. Ester was still by the table, trying to solve her equation.

"Today was nice," Spencer said.

"Yeah," I lied.

He rubbed his neck self-consciously. "Do you want to do it again? Come with us, I mean."

You mean torture myself?

"Sure."

"Great!" He gave me a relieved smile. "You have a phone now, so it's easier to tell you when we're going out."

"And senior year," I said.

"And senior year," he repeated. A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Des?"

"Hmm?"

He considered and shook his head. "Nothing. . . The guys and I are heading to practice after this. Can you go home by yourself?"

I punched his shoulder lightly. It was higher than what I was used to. "Don't talk like I don't live here," I said. "Don't talk like you're concerned either. I know you'd kill to see me slip on my butt."

"That's not true."

I snorted. "Sure it is. You've always been like that when we were kids."

"We're not kids anymore."

I raised my eyes to him and nodded. "I know, Spence, but sometimes I wish we were."

The way the day was going so far, I knew I deserved a pat on the back. Dad and I had a decent conversation, the twins wouldn't worry about me anymore, the teens of Bear Creek would welcome me in their group. I've defied my self-imposed gravity of locking myself. I was in an all-time high.

As I was strolling back to the house though, I came to realize that no matter how much you try, whatever comes up, must come down. There was no use defying gravity. It pulls you back like a boomerang to where you belonged.

Maybe that's what happened to me. Maybe that's what happened to her. Whatever it meant, I jumped to the side to avoid the speeding truck.

It went past my house. It went past the vacant property. It screeched to a stop only when it reached the last lot on the street.

My eyes widened as I watched the movers go down. One of them bounced to the sidewalk, went to the gate, and rang the Morgan's doorbell.