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0 9 | Until There Was You

Jude was parked outside of Waverly's house contemplating on whether or not he should knock on her door or on her window. He knew her mother, whom he hadn't met yet, wouldn't be pleased to know that a stranger was asking for her presence in the midst of no purpose, really. But maybe Jude was overthinking things. He could lie and say they had a project together for a random class. Sneaking in the window, he realized, was more idiotic and devious. Then, there was the possibility he could knock on the wrong window altogether. He went with his first instinct.

He mustered up the courage to knock, and when the door swung open he was met with Waverly instead of Waverly's equally intimidating mother. Her eyes had dark crescents cascading under her eyes, her hair was messy, and she looked at Jude with perplexed, confused eyes. Her jaw was clenched.

"Jude, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check up on you," he admitted. "You weren't at school today."

"So, you decided to just drive over to my house because I wasn't at school?"

"Correct," he replied and Waverly made a face, nodding her head at his actions. To Jude his idea seemed genuine and justified, but maybe Waverly saw it a different way. In her eyes he was a stalker and in this situation he fit the title.

"I see you're fine, so, I'm gonna go," he confirmed, turning to leave the spot.

"Wait," Waverly halted. "Don't go."

Jude stopped walking but didn't turn around.

"Okay, maybe I was a little harsh," she reasoned. "Thanks, I guess, for checking up on me."

Jude turned around and Waverly lowered her gaze, crossing her arms. In that limelight she didn't look that intimidating. She looked vulnerable—the same girl Jude called weird before he actually knew her. It was odd how things worked out, placing them in these scenarios where they somehow became closer.

"Your apology isn't enough for me," Jude added, feeling the urge to negotiate. "You have to come to my game tomorrow."

Waverly raised an eyebrow and he could have sworn she was on the verge of laughing at the proposal. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not a fan of football."

"You don't have to be a fan. Just come and support me, alright?" he reasoned and Waverly raised an eyebrow. "Consider it."

"I will," Waverly replied with a small smile and after a beat she spoke again. "I wanna show you something."

"That's becoming a constant thing for you, isn't it?"

"Would you shut up and just come on," she snapped back, pivoting to go back into her house. Jude followed after and when he entered he wasn't vaguely surprised by the decor. Somehow, it mingled with Waverly's persona. They ended up walking down the hall into a room that made Jude do a double take. There was a large map of the world plastered on the wall above the bed and books lounged roughly on a shelf in a nearby corner. Her book bag was tossed near the foot of her bed and there was a small container filled with old tapes. The bedspread was sprawled as if it had been used recently. Jude couldn't help that his attention was drawn to the massive map of all things. It was right in front of him. How could he not notice it?

Waverly walked over to the map, standing alongside it with fascinating eyes.

"You wanted to show me a map?" Jude asked, slightly bewildered.

"It's not just any map," she replied and something in her voice changed—a want that gripped the hinges of a different reality. It seemed to consume Waverly, spreading into her rich, blended eyes. "These stars," she started pointing to several golden star stickers.

Jude walked over so that he was standing next to her, looking where she was pointing. One of the stars had been plastered on France, then another on Canada. The places were far from their town, far from their school—from everyone. Then, there was another sticker, basic and nearby. Montana.

"Are the places I want to go once I'm out of here," she finished. "The world is bigger than you and I, Jude. We're hardly anything in a world of everything."

Jude sucked in her words, letting them linger in his brain. The thing Jude learned about Waverly was that in her own mysterious way she was spontaneous and constant. She was like the earth, constantly spinning. The people around her were like toys. She would tag them along and play with them until she got bored. Jude thought about that and hoped it wouldn't be the case for him. He didn't want to be thrown aside like those boring toys, but there was the certainty that eventually he would. Because Waverly was far more complicated than anything he had ever known, and complicated things didn't stay around long.

"Why do you want to go to Montana? There's nothing memorable there."

"But there is," she disagreed. "I think my dad lives there."

"If that's true what would you say to him if you saw him," Jude asked, zooming pass what was appropriate. Much like Bridget and Beverly, and everyone else he had associated himself with.

"Kind of personal don't you think?" she asked, side-eying Jude. Then she sighed and turned to him completely."I'd say fuck you and then I'd ask him why'd he leave my mom and I. I don't know what's with some black dads wanting to leave their family. Maybe it's a natural instinct that roots back from old traditions."

Jude turned red at that. Mostly because he couldn't relate to the situation and didn't know how to reply. Any father could leave their family, but maybe this was something Jude simply didn't understand or couldn't.

"Hey, you shouldn't worry about that. Your father's an ass for leaving you. Fuck him," he shrugged off and Waverly smiled.

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, Jude."

"Huh. I guess you are," he realized and it didn't faze him one bit. He didn't mind it either because although things had suddenly seemed complicated, with Waverly it was always different. He never pretended. In a way, Waverly was a cluster of outspoken stars, filling up the emptiness that once drowned Jude's world. "So, does this mean you're going to the game?"

"Don't push it," she demanded with a faded smile.

Only one thought came to mind when she said that; he still didn't know why she wasn't at school.

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Beverly called Jude four times since he left Waverly's house, driving towards his own. He wanted to toss his phone out the fucking window each time he saw her face flickering across the screen with a beguiling smile that set the hearts of everyone afire. The ringing wouldn't stop as his phone slid along the materials of the seat. What was so important?

He was trying so hard not to see Beverly as the girl she once was. He believed if he painted her out for what she really was it wouldn't make him care anymore. Unfortunately, he was failing miserably, and at this rate he wasn't ever going to be over Beverly when she continued to give him reasons to stay—to go back to that life of golden limelight where he was envied. All he had to do was one basic thing. Forgive Seth? Jude wanted to snort at the thought. When hell freezes over.

Finally, he was home, tossing his belongings over his shoulder. His parent's car had both been in the driveway, but Jude took it lightly. There was an odd smell when he entered, one he wasn't used to. It smelled like a fresh burning candle. The smell of cinnamon wafted in the air. It couldn't have been his father or his mother. Mainly because his mother hated candles and because his father didn't really care for them. To Jude's dismay, it was his mother. Jude entered the dining room to see lit candles and champagne on the table. It wasn't hard to miss that something was up. Jude tasted the uneasiness on his tongue. All metallic and abnormal.

"What's all this for?" Jude asked, dropping his stuff down with the shrug of his shoulder.

"Your father bought 10% of the company your girlfriend's parents work at," she exclaimed, standing up with the click clack of her heels. "This is big news for our company, Judah. We've been trying to do it for years. Now, when it gets passed on to you I need you to..."

Jude ran a hand through his hair nervously. When would there ever be a right time to tell them how he felt about taking over the company. He didn't want it—the premature baldness, the responsibility, the unhappiness. If he took up such a huge responsibility when he was older he would never be home to see his kids. He'd be just like his parent's. Jude didn't want that for his future kids. He hated the idea of never really being there. The words were at the tip of his tongue and Waverly made him realize it that night on the rooftop. He didn't have the courage. Not yet. It would have to wait. So, Jude decided to let his mother enjoy this accomplishment, and when his father entered seconds later he knew that, maybe, he would always live his life with regret.

"There's my moneymaker," his mother said, holding up the glass of champagne, leaning in for a hug from his father. Jude's father gave a toothy grin, placing a kiss on his wife's forehead.

"Congratulations," Jude supported, leaning onto the table with one arm.

"Thanks, son. It'll be your company one day."

"Can't wait," he lied.

"Let's eat," his mother announced, and the three of them sat at the table in silence.

"Please, not takeout again," his father teased, but cut himself short when Jude's mother came back with a pan of meat and a bowl of mixed vegetables. Jude looked at the food and didn't really have an appetite for it. He was more in the mood for pizza. Something quick and tasty, rather than long and healthy. During the passing of dishes and the clinking of forks and spoons, Jude settled himself between the seams of his parent's faraway conversation. Bravely, Jude decided to cut through their conversation with an unwavering question.

"I have a football game tomorrow. Do you guys think you can make it?" He asked, and suddenly he regretted it. It felt like ice rubbing against his skin, creating mismatched degrees of burns. They were staring at him like he grew another head out of his shoulder. He ignored their gazes, playing with his vegetables—a habit he had picked up when he was younger.

"Judah, you know Fridays at the office are our busiest days," she informed.

"Mother, you say that every time I ask," he replied. Mother was always an unnatural way to address his mom. He knew it. Yet he hoped that calling her would make it known how different their relationship was. At one point in time he called her mom, but that time vanished.

"It hasn't changed since then, Judah," his father announced.

"You should be happy for your father! Yet here you are worrying about a football game that isn't until tomorrow and has no real relevance to the company."

Somehow, the conversation had flipped and made him seem like the bad guy in the scenario. Why was he always the wrong one when it came to everything in his life?

"It's not like that," he tried to defend but they wouldn't listen. His voice was hitched at the back of his throat and he felt puny. Something inside of him was let down, and there was a sensation of hopelessness and absolute dread. Like a child pleading for someone to listen. Once, Jude thought he was the letdown, now it seemed like everyone else around him was.

"I shouldn't have asked," he muttered, dismissing himself from the table.

"Jude, get back here," his mother hissed.

"Why? There's nothing left to say."

He went to his room pissed. He closed the door behind him and when he walked over to his bedside to check his phone he had an additional two missed calls from Beverly. Why wouldn't she just leave him alone? Jude sighed and tossed his phone onto his mattress.

"What did I do to deserve any of this?" he whispered to himself in a groan, hoping that someone would answer him back.

No one did.

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The next day at school everyone was riled up for the football game. Mostly everyone. Jude wore his letterman jacket to school that day, but it felt like it wasn't meant for him. It was a weird feeling. Throughout the day people continued to greet Seth and grant him luck when Jude was nearby. Jude only received judgmental glares and bumps of the shoulder from his peers. Jude didn't mind, though, as he walked down the corridor to get to his classes. Along the way Waverly had joined him and it made the gestures they were presenting unimportant.

"This school is full of losers," Waverly admitted randomly. "Still don't get why people get riled up over football."

"Because it's football," Jude responded. "If you came to a game you would know."

"And scream around with a bunch of idiots? No thank you."

"Does that mean you're going?"

"No, it doesn't. So, stop trying to convince me with reverse psychology."

"Deep down you want to come, don't you? You just never had a reason to go."

"Maybe. Maybe not," she responded. "Or I just don't understand the hype for it."

Jude brushed off her comment, continuing to walk with his eyes glazed, and then he looked over at Waverly standing alongside him. There was a calming silence between them and it reminded Jude of how lonely and broken he was when he discovered the scandal. And how Waverly had appeared, making it sting less.

"Thanks by the way," Jude thanked while they continued to walk and Waverly stopped in the hallway with knitted eyebrows.

"For?"

"Helping me."

"We went over this, Lockhart. I felt sorry for you."

"Whatever reason you did it. I'm glad you did," he thanked and it was appreciatively genuine. It didn't even matter that he was still receiving bothered stares.

"God, Lockhart, you have got to stop flirting with me," she teased, backing away from him.

"There's no winning with you is there?"

"There never is," she agreed. "—but I may forgive you if you let me wear that jacket you have on. I like the way it looks."

"My letterman jacket?"

"No, your tennis jacket," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Yes, your letterman jacket."

"I didn't really want to wear it anyway," he shrugged off, handing her the jacket. She rotated it, admiring the fabric.

"Officially forgiven."

Then she was gone, leaving Jude staring into the emptied hall and before Jude knew it, he was in the locker room with his teammates. He glanced around more times than he could count. They were rowdy and hyped for the game, creating battle cries and releasing rap music through the bluetooth speaker. Jude sat nearby changing from his usual clothes into his game gear. There was an unsettling spark of anxiety in his chest. For some reason he was nervous for the game, and how he would play with the damaged relationship he had with Seth. It wasn't going to end well from the looks of it.

Somehow, Lincoln slipped in the empty seat alongside him, all suited up. "Please, don't screw this up, Lockhart."

"Don't you think you're telling that to the wrong person?" Jude wondered, tightening the strings of his cleats in a swift motion.

"I told Seth the same thing," he claimed. He lifted an arm resting it on Jude's shoulder, "If you and Seth can get along for a few hours I'm pretty damn sure we can win this."

"Yeah," Jude agreed.

"And that offer still stands about the gym. We can hit it up tomorrow if you want. You know after we get this dub," Lincoln encouraged, punching Jude's shoulder softly in a humorous tease. "I'll see you during warm-up."

Without realizing it the locker room slowly started to empty and Jude was the last to leave. He stood up, grabbing his helmet, holding it at his side. He closed his eyes, standing in the doorway of the exit and he promised himself he wouldn't mess another thing up. Not this time. He was going to do everything right for himself. He stepped out onto the field and when he blinked his eyes the stadium lights were shining above his head. People were already crowding the stands, grabbing their snacks and friends, retrieving a seat. The gregarious cheerleaders danced on the sidelines, pumping up the crowd with their preppy cheers and witty dance moves.

Jude skimmed the crowd, hoping to see his parent's—one of them at least—but came to no avail. The action was tiring and he felt himself frowning through his helmet, blinking back the daydream he was sucked into. It was lofty and sullen. A dream where his parents were at the game, supporting him happily with his girlfriend standing at the fence, screaming at the top of her lungs that number three was her boyfriend. The boy who ran the ball up the field. That same daydream where he had everything he ever wanted. But that wasn't life. That wasn't his life. Jude's life, in some ways, was exactly the opposite, terribly tragic and beautiful at the same exact time. Heaven and hell coexisting between the cracks of the truth.

He spotted Beverly entering when he was whipped out of his reverie. Her and Bridget were gripping each other's arms, pointing and waving at several of the players. Jude didn't miss the way Beverly glanced at him with the number three plastered on one side of her face in red paint. It was cute, really. But it was absolutely beautiful once.

Jude would have looked appreciated if it hadn't been for Seth's number being crafted on the other side. A pang of jealousy erupted but it faded when he caught sight of Waverly, who was dawdling her way around until she spotted a comfortable seat in the middle of the stands. She had been wearing Jude's letterman jacket with her hair half up and half down. There was a benign expression on her face. Tranquil and soft. Jude probably mistook that look for one of disgust and confusion. It was probably the latter. Definitely the latter. Then a student bumped her and Jude watched as she lifted her middle finger, invading the guy's face with a look of annoyance. Jude would have laughed at the situation if he were closer. Beverly followed Jude's gaze, and Bridget followed Beverly's. Seth followed Bridget's, and Lincoln was glimpsing at the stares with bulging curiosity. His face read 'what the fuck is going on.' It was a big mess Jude created when he decided to become friends with Waverly. Waverly caught Jude looking and she gave a low nod. Jude waved out in the middle of the field and when he turned around Lincoln was there.

"Weird Waverly?" He asked which was unusual because only Seth and Jude had called her that when they were younger. "I didn't know you were into her."

"I'm not," he stated.

Jude analyzed why he might have thought that and it made sense. The whole school probably thought that was the case if one person had assumed it, and that also made up for the reason why Beverly was looking at Waverly in the way she was. The closeness that was growing. The letterman jacket. She showed up to the game. It was close to what couples did in a way, but to Jude it was the way they were. Waverly knew it and so did Jude.

The captains were already announced for the night, and the referees were standing with their whistles in their mouths. The mascot was on the sidelines, moving to the rhythm of the school's band. Jude brushed past some of his teammates to get to his position on the field. Kick off was about to start. There was no room for distractions anymore.

It was game time.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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