CHAPTER SIXTEEN
❛ a choice to make. ❜

I WAS WOKEN UP IN THE MORNING BY the sweet aroma of baked goods drifting upstairs. It ebbed away the sleep in my brain, prompting me to drowsily roll over and come to my senses. Yawning, I stretched my limbs out like a starfish, muscles contracting and feeling less tense than they did before.

My alarm hadn't gone off yet, but it was minutes away from doing so. I grabbed my phone and switched it off.

     Alarm... ALARM!

     I cringed at the memory of how last night had ended. The images were burned on the inside of my eyelids: the way the words poured out of Stanley, watching every single facial muscle being drained of his passion as I thoughtlessly ignored his entire confession. I should have said something else to him... but what?

     What did he want me to say? How was I supposed to know in that moment how I felt?

     I remembered feeling completely lost. A pressure had weighed in on me, an expectation to say the more sugarcoated thing — Oh Stanley, I like you too! Let's run off hand-in-hand into the sunset together — but I couldn't cope with that thought. I just don't know if I have what it takes for a relationship yet, and I know it doesn't have to be one because he never said that, it doesn't change the fact that I'm not ready.

     Reluctant to dwell on my latest bout of romantic drama (which had gone from zero to one hundred in recent weeks), I got up and began to get dressed. I pulled out a long-sleeved, light purple shirt with a striped pattern, a pair of jeans, socks and my good old Converses.

I opened the door and walked across the landing, my stomach grumbling impatiently as the breakfast fragrances grew even stronger. It smelled vaguely of pancakes or a similar kind of dish.

Liam opened his bedroom door and I gasped.

"Liam," I pointed to his face, horrified. "What happened to your—"

"Richard Rynard happened." he sighed. There was an ugly-looking bruise around his eye, blossoming in a deep blue and purple circle. Whoever this Richard kid was, I only hoped that he was sporting a similar look.

"He did that to you?" I asked.

"Yeah. Only 'cause I punched him too."

"Liam!"

I hadn't expected that. The wish for the kid's own bruise had only been a bitter joke, and I never would have expected Liam to throw a punch at anyone. Part of me, however, couldn't help feel a guilty pride about his antics.

As long as sweet little Liam doesn't morph into a Bradley Lewis, then I have no problems here.

He was fetching a robe from the bathroom and pulling it on over his pyjamas; there was something weirdly mature about it, since the robe looked fairly old man-ish for his age. It was moments like this that made me wonder if Liam really was just a sweet old pensioner retired from a life sailing yachts, trapped inside a preteen boy's body.

"Looks like it's pancakes for breakfast this morning," I peered down the stairs, my mouth watering. "Your Mom get up early to make them?"

"No. Mom's at work. Syd did, actually."

Sydney? My brows knitted together in confusion as I sped back to her room, only to find her bed empty and the duvet smoothed our neatly. Usually she was so out-of-it in the mornings that I barely registered her there when I got up.

Then I jogged downstairs, skidding to a halt when I saw the standing figure in the kitchen. Sydney was carefully juggling pancake mix in a sizzling pan, quietly humming along to a 1960s song chirping from the radio. She was wearing lighter jeans, Converses just like me, and a t-shirt with Andy Warhol prints on the front that was... get this... hot pink.

Pink? Sydney Novak? Those two things just didn't match up.

"Holy shit," I shielded my eyes from her shirt, "My eyes! It burns!"

"Ha ha, very funny." Sydney rolled her eyes sarcastically, but the gesture was nowhere near as embittered as I was used to, a glint of cheekiness even catching my attention. Where was the angsty teenager that I knew and put up with? Whoever this impostor was, her upbeat nature was a little too honeyed for my liking — although I'd trade yesterday's infuriating Sydney for this cheerful one any day of the week.

"I didn't know you owned anything that bright in your closet." I said.

"Forgot that I had." Sydney smiled.

     "What's the occasion?"

     "A fresh start," she said. Her eyes drifted to my hand and she winced apologetically. "How's your hand?"

     I extended my fingers out, rotating my bandaged hand side-to-side. "It's good," I told her. "It'll heal in no time."

     She bit her lip and nodded slowly, taking up the silence in a way that suggested she had more to say. She raised an eyebrow, eyes squinted and expecting the worst.

     "And the cello?"

     "Annihilated." I replied, for lack of a better word.

     "Hallie, I'm so sorry," Sydney stared down at her feet in shame. "I feel terrible. I didn't mean to do it, I swear."

     "Of course you didn't. I'm the one who set you off... time to flip, Syd."

Her gaze shot back to the frying pan, muttering curses under her breath as she struggled to shove a spatula under the mixture. When she flipped it onto the other side, she uttered a dismayed "Shit!" as she stared in defeat at the charred, brown side of the pancake.

"I'll have that one. Look —" I slid my plate over to retrieve the pancake, before bringing it back to me. "— of course I'm sad about the cello, it was my prized possession and now it's broken... but it's material, you know? Easily replaceable if you're rich," I said. I still have to figure out how I'll afford it. "Besides, I was granted a hiatus by my teacher to give myself some TLC for a while. There were more things at stake yesterday afternoon than a broken cello."

     Like our relationship.

Sydney switched the oven off, grabbing a plate from next to the sink that was stacked with an impressive tower of pancakes she'd already prepared. I fished two or three off the top and added them to my pile.

"I'm also sorry about your diary," I said, ashamed. "I hate myself for doing it, and it's definitely not one of my proudest moments. I only looked in it once and that was a while ago."

She sighed, a brief look of panic flashing across her eyes. "That's okay. Um, I actually lost my diary last night."

"You lost it?" I started.

"Yeah."

"Okay, first off, that wasn't me, I swear—"

"I know, I know. It'll be fine. Let's just forget about it, alright?"

I stabbed my fork with a faux indifference into a pancake and took a bite of it. It tasted sweet, a breakfast I didn't know I was craving this morning until now.

"Do you think it can be repaired?" she asked.

"Probably not. Like I said, I just need enough money to buy a new cello and all will be—"

"I meant us, not the cello..." Sydney cut me off. "I didn't mean any of what I said yesterday. Not a word of it." There was a sincere look in her eyes that felt like it was pleading for forgiveness, a fresh slate.

I nodded my head. "I know. Me neither."

"With all this shit that's been going on with me lately, I want you to know I... I'm happy you've been here for it, Hallie. We used to be so close. But then puberty hit, and I don't know what fucking happened. And I do really... you know..." she kicked the bottom edge of the cupboard awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

"You what?"

She looked up at me. "I love you. I love you a lot."

A welcoming sensation spread from my chest, trickling up over my shoulders and oozing down my spine in a lovely warmth. I really couldn't describe it, so I simply said back to her what I'd always felt and always would feel, no matter what:

"I love you too."

We both chuckled shyly, suddenly more aware of how distanced we were from each other — a metre apart, but in this moment we felt so close. There was a brief exchange through the eyes where we contemplated whether we should do it, but once we telepathically agreed, we both went in for the hug. A few seconds of Sydney in my embrace passed, my chin on her shoulder, hers trying to reach mine. She began rubbing circles on my back, and I started sweating a little. I didn't hesitate to break away when she lightly slapped my back as a signal.

"That's enough of that..." she mumbled, grinning. She spotted something over my shoulder. "Morning."

Liam popped up behind me, and Sydney pushed a plate of pancakes towards him. He gave her a curt nod in return, and grabbing a mug, began to pour himself a drink from the coffee kettle in the corner which had been steadily brewing.

"Is that coffee?" Sydney snorted incredulously.

"Yeah," he held out his mug as an offering to us. "Want some?"

I shook my head and so did she, as I watched him in amusement taking a sensible sip from the cup. Okay, now I'm convinced that he's well and truly embracing his inner middle-aged man.

Sydney watched him take a bite out of a pancake. "Still mad at me?" she asked.

"Mad about what?" I queried, confused.

"Oh, Sydney kind of pissed off Richard Rynard the other day, and that's why he gave me this," Liam gestured delicately to his bruised eye. "But it's okay. Well, I mean, it still kinda hurts. But lucky for you, Syd, Veronica Thompson has a thing for tough guys —" puffing his chest out proudly, it drew my focus to the green sticker he'd slapped on his robe since I last saw him. "— and she gave me a sticker."

"Nice one, Goob!"

"I'm never washing these pyjamas..." Liam sighed, dreamily stroking the collar of his robe.

I watched as Sydney thrust a brown paper bag in his direction, her mouth thinning into a loving smile. "Made you lunch," she said, grabbing another paper bag and giving it to me. "And for you, too. Cut the crusts off the sandwich. Just wanted to let you know I care." she chuckled nervously.

Suspiciously, Liam and I exchanged a glance, not sure how to react to her sudden warmth. "Are you okay?" he asked sceptically, as I began rummaging in my administered packed lunch: there was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, my favourite, with the crusts cut off. I also spotted a packet of potato chips and an apple somewhere in there.

In response, Sydney simply beamed. "Paint me yellow and call me fucking sunshine, Goob!"

The three of us ate up our breakfast after that, and it was nicer than it had ever been. But there was still something bugging me — I didn't have my clarity about what had brought on this sudden change of manner for my usually pessimistic cousin. We'd decided to walk to school today, so I figured that was a good time to interrogate her then.

"You know, you still haven't told me why you're so happy-go-lucky today." I stated, trying to catch up to her. She was two steps ahead of me with the large strides she was taking, and I couldn't quite keep up.

"I got closure."

"Closure?"

Sydney stopped walking in front of me, slowly turning around to face me. She only had to give me one look and I understood what she meant. It hit me like a punch to the face; I suddenly felt nauseous, my guts swimming aimlessly in my body and getting tangled in a suffocating knot. Feeling my hairs begin to stand on their ends, I swallowed a lump in my throat.

"You mean..." I couldn't find the words. "A-are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. It was yesterday."

Checking if anyone was around, she took a step nearer to me. I could feel the past year's turmoil brimming like pressure in a gas container, threatening to be released in any given moment.

"After my parents got married, Dad signed up for the Marines..." she began, and I could already feel my palms sweating. I wiped them on my jeans. It immediately made sense: the military stance he always had despite his laid-back nature, his sudden bouts of fear that wound make him flee to the bathroom to recover, his usual greeting to me. I could almost hear him right now — "Hey, Comrade!" with that little mock salute. I couldn't believe I never knew any of that. Why did my parents never tell me this? Sydney continued, "The things he saw really messed him up. And I think he might've... done something."

     "Done something?"

     She bit her lip. "The last time he went over, there was an explosion... everyone died, on both sides, except him. Mom says he never got over it, and that maybe that's why he..." her words trailed off as she fought back her breaking voice. "And that's not all. I think this has something to with me."

     I stared at her, not quite understanding. I hoped it wasn't something too dark or graphic. "What do you mean?"

     "Mom said that he always believed no one could understand him, or know what he was dealing with. Every time she asked him about it, he'd run out of the room like he was gonna throw up... who does that sound like?"

     At first I thought she was talking total nonsense, but then I faltered. I remembered Sydney fleeing from Ricky Berry's party, the way she'd described her loneliness in this battle in her diary entries. Before I was conscious of this conclusion, the words escaped me: "You..." I stepped back, jaw dropping. "Wait, Syd, you don't seriously think he..."

     I couldn't even say it. Not because I didn't believe it, because I did, to my horror. It all came together like the last puzzle piece. That time at my birthday party, when I went to check on him... was he really trying to hide because he'd...

     "I think he did," said Sydney. "I think he was just like me. I don't know how, I don't know why, but it has to be the only explanation!"

          "Comrade! Just... give me a second, okay?"

     The door opens, and he stands in the doorway, looking down at me. He beams at me, his contagious smile extending from cheek to cheek. But there's something missing. His eyes aren't smiling.

     I link my hands behind my back, staring up at him. "Are you okay?"

     "Oh, yeah, I just needed the bathroom all of a sudden." he tells me.

     "That's what you always say," I challenge him, my eyes narrowed skeptically. "Do you need the bathroom a lot?"

     He chortles, and now his eyes are smiling too. That's better.

     "Don't you worry about me kiddo. I'm fine." my Uncle ruffles my hair, which is tied in flaming red pigtails.

The memory shifted in meaning, been warped to a whole different, darker dimension now that I knew what he was really doing. What he was really going through...

He had powers. Just like Sydney.

If my parents knew he was in the Marines, did they know this, too? Things were all coming out.

"So after that, I figured out I had a choice to make," Sydney announced firmly but positively, massaging her backpack straps. "I could hide away from the world, let this stuff destroy me too... or I could find a way to live with it. I'm not letting this shit get me down! From now on, I'm gonna do everything I can to be happy. Happy thoughts. What harm can that do?"

"Sydney, hang on..." I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head still spinning over the news. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Before she could get rubbed the wrong way by comment, I raised my hands defensively.

"I mean, I'm glad you're happy, but... eventually you're gonna feel down again. That's just life. And what happens when you do? When you've bottled up the negativity for so long?" I proposed, anxiety sleeping into me at the thought of it. She'd killed Banana and she'd almost killed me or Stan multiple times. She'd caused damage to multiple structures, given Bradley Lewis a nosebleed (I loved her for that one, though.) Who knew what she was capable of? And now she'd lost her diary, too... there was a lot of things in there, including detailed accounts of her powers being unleashed... so if it fell into the wrong hands—

"I'll be fine, Hallie," Sydney placed her hands on each of my shoulders, one corner of her lip rising into a lopsided smirk. "Trust me. I can do this. You just have to believe in me."

I kicked the ground gently in defeat, scuffing my shoes a little before whispering, "... Okay."

I had to admit, she was taking this whole happy thoughts thing very seriously. When we walked into school, I walked in synchronisation with Sydney — who had a joyful spring in her step — as we strolled together. I gave her a little nudge, and she gave me a harder one back. I shoved her to the side and jogged ahead, ducking under the Homecoming banner that was being strung across the hallway...

"Homecoming!" I exclaimed. Shit, I totally forgot! I turned to Sydney. "Hey, you don't mind if we drop by my place quickly after school, do you? I need to pick up my dress."

"Sure thing!" she shot me a carefree smile that almost knocked me off my feet. Her eyes seemed to sparkle ten times more when she was happy, and I was overjoyed for her. I really was.

I recognised a certain curly-haired boy walking our way from a long distance, and an oblivious excitement amidst our positivity bubbled up inside me. When he drew nearer, I tried to catch his eye as I said, "Hi Stan—"

Stanley shot me what was barely a look, an all too brief moment of eye contact, before bowing his head low and walking straight past me. Of course he would, after the way I'd blanked him at the end of last night. What an idiot I was.

"What's up with him?" Sydney scoffed, glancing from him to me.

Fiddling with my bag, I shrugged. "I kind of upset him last night, I think. This is all on me."

"Well," she joked. "I guess that adds one more member to the Rare Breed of People who Stanley Barber dislikes club."

"Ew, no, I'm not being in a club with Brad or Jenny, thank you."

She laughed and I joined in, but more weakly than her.

     I really hoped he didn't hate me.

***

     The school day went by with nonstop chatter about Homecoming: last minute dates were arranged, girls frantically checking that none of their friends were wearing identical dresses, and the guys (apart from a select few)... well, not really giving much of a damn about the fuss. A lot like me, really. Nothing had changed in terms of my situation for Homecoming.

     I still hadn't been formally asked out.

     I was still going with Calvin so he wasn't partying alone.

     And Stanley Barber was still going with Mercedes Callahan.

     Oh brother...

     That still bothered me a lot. If he really liked me — which, okay, I definitely got the hint about now — then why didn't he ask me in the first place? Even before Sydney, let alone Mercedes? Boys are so confusing. I'm glad the only one I really have to deal with now is Calvin...

     And speak of the devil, right on cue at the end of the school day, my friend came behind me and 'tasered' me again. But today I wasn't fazed. The moment I locked eyes with his, I was reminded of this 'thing' he kept having to tell me, and I was getting bored of waiting around now.

     "Hey! How'd it go with Stan—"

     "No, not now," I interrupted him, willing him to shut up about Stan, but also because this was about him. "We have other things to talk about. Like this explanation that you owe me and you keep putting at bay. So now, you have my undivided attention. Go on. Just say it."

     His face had been drained of colour, turning a clammy pale. "W-what, now?"

     "Yes, now!"

     "... Mmm, no. Too many people."

    Frustrated, I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the janitor's closet that was located adjacently to us. I slammed the door shut and stood in front of it, blocking his exit with my arms folded across my chest. "This private enough for you?" I huffed.

     He wordlessly rubbed at the pink patch on his arm, from where I'd pinched his skin too hard pulling him in here. There was something weirdly jittery about him whenever we brought this up, and I needed to settle it once and for all. The last thing I needed was the usually fearless Calvin being shot with nerves.

     "Right, okay..." he let out a shaky breath. "Before I tell you the thing, I have to give you some... context."

     I shook my head. "Calvin, we haven't got all day. Just tell it to me straight."

     He let out a small, breathless chuckle and mumbled something that was intangible.

     "What was that?"

     "I said that's ironic."

     "Why?"

     "Because... I... I-I'm... I'm gay."

     "I know."

     Calvin's eyes popped open wider, and he glared at me like I'd said something outrageous. "Wait, what?"

     Well, I didn't know, exactly; you can never really 'know' 100% until someone tells you, I suppose. But I definitely had a strong hunch that told me otherwise. There had been a few pointers in our friendship that had made it so overwhelmingly obvious to me... salmon pink came to mind... however, for the fear of being too abrupt, I'd decided it was best to wait for him to figure it out himself.

     Now I was doing exactly what I didn't want to do, and that was come across as insensitive. Taking on a gentler voice, I told him, "I kind of guessed. It just seemed obvious to me."

     "Do you think my parents know?" he asked, worried.

     I shook my head reassuringly. "I doubt it. They're too obsessed with making you a devout Christian to notice."

     "That's true," Calvin shrugged bitterly.

     "So, how long have you known?"

     "Since the start of the Senior year... you?"

     "Calvin, I've known since you first waltzed into the Board Games club."

     "Oh!" he laughed. That long...

     That was when we first met, in the Fifth Grade. We were the only two kids that had signed up for the Board Games Club — it was that typical scenario of your parents nudging you forward and saying, "Make a friend, sweetie, make a friend!" — and I was the first there. Calvin arrived fashionably late, cheeks rosy and red from running as he huffed and puffed when sitting down. Disapproving of his late arrival, I'd asked him what had taken him so long, to which he'd replied with by pointing down to a sheet of toilet paper stuck to his foot and said, "I was spying on some upper school kids doing drugs and I fell in."

     The rest is history I guess. Three rounds of Monopoly later, we were best buddies.

     "I still don't get what this has to do with Ryder and I, though." I said.

     "Oh boy," Calvin rubbed his forehead. "So, remember that guy I told you about a while back? The guy from my Art class?"

     I said nothing. I didn't have the foggiest, which made me feel guilty. This was his moment and I was ruining it.

     "Right, right, of course you don't. You were too busy thinking about Ryder, which is actually a funny coincidence because that guy was him."

     "Ryder's in your Art class?"

     "Yep... get it yet?"

     "No."

     "Remember the context I gave you before."

     "You're not making any sense— oh!" I held back a gasp. Now it was my turn to be shocked. I was kicking myself mentally for not putting two and two together earlier; how did I not pick up on this? Stanley and I, Ryder and Calvin... it seemed Art class was a breeding ground for unexpected romances.

     "You have a crush on Ryder?" I thought aloud, although I'd sussed out the answer by now. When he nodded curtly, I sighed. "Calvin, why didn't you tell me?"

     "Because he asked you out, so I thought that pretty much ruled out any chance I had. When we'd talked in Art, I... I thought we'd actually had a chance. So when you told me about your date, I didn't know what to do. I hate myself for what I said. What if you guys could have been an item and I'd ruined it?"

     "We weren't, we really weren't..."

     "Okay, but maybe you could have been if I hadn't gone and fucked it up!"

     "This is so stupid," I paced pack and forth with what little claustrophobic room the closet provided. "We are maturer than this. Our friendship is based on a common ground; a deep, intellectual understanding. We're better than this, Simpson!"

     "I agree!" he declared. "From now on, there's a clear line drawn between our love lives and our friendship shenanigans. Nothing romantic ever comes between us. Are we clear?"

     "Crystal. And no more secrets." I winked at him.

     He exhaled, giving me a high five. "Dealio. But never wink at me again, that's highly disturbing coming from you. It's bad enough over text."

     "I didn't wink, my eye twitched."

     "Yeah, right. We'd better get outta here before people think we're making our in the janitor's closet or something."

     I grimaced at the image, opening the door. Most of the students had flooded out of the hallway now, except for a couple who were at their locker having a pre-Homecoming make out session. Eww... 

     "So, Homecoming..." said Calvin.

     "Yeah," I straightened the straps of my bag on my shoulders. "Shit, that came around quick, didn't it?"

      He held open the door for me and I squinted at the sunlight from outside, starting to tread down the staircase. "It sure did," he rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Am I still picking you up at eight?"

     "Yes. From my cousin's house, remember?"

     "Oh yeah. Don't wanna drive to Uniontown for nothing."

     "Hey, Hallie!" Sydney's voice yelled from behind us, and we both turned to find her standing at the bottom of the stairs. She waved her arm wildly at me, grinning, before she began to usher me over whilst shielding her eyes from the sun with a cupped hand. In an impatient gesture, she tapped her wrist and laughed.

     Calvin tilted his head at her, confused. "Why is she dressed so... brightly?"

     "Beats me." I deadpanned.

     "Mother of Mary!" he exclaimed, shooting a bewildered stare towards me. "She just smiled... at me! What's going on?"

     "I'll see you tonight, Calvin."

     I left my good friend at the top of the stairs, still contemplating my cousin's glee, and joined my cousin. We chattered happily, just like the old times when we were kids, as we filed onto the bus to begin preparation. An overall anticipation for tonight was lacing the air, and it was as contagious as wildfire.

     Tonight is gonna be good... everything will be fine...

________________________

A/N:

this chapter made me feel so wholesome 🥰

and also, calvin quite literally coming out of the closet 👀 whoever saw that coming say aye 🙋🏼‍♀️

but GUYS!! we're almost at the end of the book! there are only 3 chapters left, and i'm crying 'cause i'm gonna finish a book in 2020 WHAT—

i just wanna take this moment to say thank you to you all who've stuck through with me on this journey. you lot are actually one of the most supportive, invested, hilarious and wholesome readers i've come across. you're such a lovely bunch who have really inspired me to keep going with this book, which was initially never going to go places in my head. but it has exceeded my expectations so much, and hallie has grown to be more special to me than i'd anticipated.

THANK YOU FOR KEEPING ME GOING!

song of the chapter: 'first day of my life' - bright eyes
(sydney making pancakes / sydney and hallie make up)

published: 25th may, 2020