Barely Breathing

The vulnerability of letting someone, anyone, into the dark places I couldn't face myself was unfathomable. It wasn't because I didn't trust him. I didn't want to reveal them to anyone, not even me. After all, they were secrets for a reason.

17. Freaked

Sara looked like she was ready to burst with whatever it was she needed to tell me when I saw her the next morning. She was seriously glowing. But the first thing she did was swat me across the shoulder.

“Hey,” I hollered. “What was that for?”

“For going to Drew’s party and starting up the gossip chain when you let him drive you home.”

“Oh,” I shrunk guiltily. “It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing happened.”

“I know that, but people in this school are stupid. If you don’t want them talking about you, don’t do something that will make them talk.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said with a shrug. “They’ll talk about me even if I stand still all day.”

Sara laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Are we done with this?” I questioned, slightly annoyed. “Are you going to tell me about your week, or what?”

Sara didn’t hold back. What she couldn’t fit in before our first class she continued with at lunch. I don’t think Evan was all that thrilled to hear her talking about his brother. He finally said something about needing to talk to his coach before the next period. I was pretty sure he just needed to escape.

“I’ll see you in Art.” He departed with a kiss on my cheek.

“What’s with him?” Sara asked, noting his sudden need to leave.

“Sara, you’re dating his brother. Don’t you think it’s kind of weird for him?”

She shrugged as if she hadn’t considered it before. “I guess. I don’t know.” When she’d exhausted all things Jared, she blurted, “So what do you want to know about sex?”

My eyes widened, not braced for the question in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Tell me what you’ve done so far,” she inquired with all the seriousness of a therapist.

“Do we really need to talk about this now? You’re the one who warned against giving ammunition to circulating rumors. This is definitely not something I want anyone overhearing.”

“Fine,” she replied. “Come over after practice tonight.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t embarrassed to talk about sex, I was just… okay maybe I was a little. It wasn’t like I’d ever had the talk. What I knew, I’d learned in health class, so I wasn’t exactly well versed on the subject. Sara would share stories, but she’d never go into explicit detail, like auditory porn or anything.

“If you get any more red I think you may catch fire,” Sara observed with a shake of her head. “Just come over later, okay?”

“Okay.”

When we returned to our lockers after lunch, Sara pulled a textbook from her messenger bag. “This will help.”

I took the book and my eyes spread wide at the title, Our Sexuality. "Omigod, are you serious?" I flipped through the pages and shut it quickly when I saw way more skin than I was anticipating.

“It’s a college textbook,” Sara explained casually. “Thought you might appreciate the technical explanations versus the Cosmo version―you know, the science behind it.”

“Uh, thanks.” I went to shove it in my locker and it fell to the floor, spreading open with the spine up.

“Here,” Evan said, bending down to pick up the splayed textbook. I scooped it up before he could touch it, my pulse racing so fast I couldn’t talk.

“What was that?” he questioned, when I stuffed it in my backpack.

“Just pointers on how to pleasure you,” Sara whispered with a smirk before walking away. I about fell over. I looked up at Evan with my mouth dropped open. He arched a brow curiously.

“Really?”

“We’re going to be late for class,” I rushed, slamming my locker door shut. My heart was pounding so hard I was beginning to sweat. He let out an amused laugh and followed after me.

“You don’t need the textbook,” Evan murmured in my ear from his stool beside me.

“Evan!” I strained in a whisper with wide eyes.

“Sara has no idea, does she?” he continued with a sly grin.

“We are not talking about this,” I stated adamantly, burying my fiery face in my hands. He chuckled.

“Good afternoon,” Ms. Mier greeted from the front of the class, setting a large piece of wood on an easel. “Today we are going to create visual art using nails.” On the board was a profile of a woman created with various oxidized nails pounded into the wood at different depths and angles to create a three dimensional work of art. I was fascinated by the technique―the way the nails created the slope of her cheek bone and tilt of her nose.

“I’ve laid out boxes of nails for you to work with. You can each select a plank of wood and a hammer to get started.”

“I can guarantee I’ll have a purple thumb by the end of this assignment,” I commented, turning towards Evan. He nodded, not looking at me.

We retrieved the supplies from the front of the classroom. I was considering what I wanted to create while filling my bowl with nails.

When I got back to the stool, Evan had the hammer balanced in his hand―examining it like he’d never seen one before. He ran his eyes over it, appearing a million miles away.

“Evan?” I sat down and tilted my head toward him to look up at his face. “Evan, are you okay?”

He was pale and wouldn't focus on me. “Evan, what’s wrong?”

Without a word, he set down the hammer and left the room. It took me a moment to realize he’d just walked out. I rushed to the door to go after him, but he wasn’t in the hall. I stood in the middle of the corridor, at a complete loss.

I returned to the Art room and slowly lowered onto my stool.

“Is everything okay with Evan?” Ms. Mier questioned when she came around and found Evan’s spot vacant.

I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I didn't make much progress with the assignment because I kept watching the door, waiting for him to return. He never came back.

Evan wasn’t at my locker after class either. I took my phone out of my backpack and texted, Where are you? Are you okay?

I set the phone to vibrate and stuffed it in the front pocket of my jeans, pulling my sweater over it so my Calculus teacher wouldn’t see it.

Halfway through class, my phone vibrated. I slipped it out and held it under my desk to read, Not feeling great―went home

I read it again, baffled.

Want me to come by after practice?

Evan responded, No. See you tomorrow OK?

Nothing about this felt right. He hadn’t seemed sick all day. I was obviously missing something, but I didn’t know what else to think so I typed, Okay.

“I’m going to go home after practice tonight,” I told Sara as we gathered our things at the end of the day.

“Everything okay?” she asked, taking in my somber mood.

“I hope so,” I answered before shutting my locker door. “I’ll call you later.”

“Alright,” she answered, studying me as I skulked away.

I called Evan as soon as I got in my car after practice. He didn’t answer. I was wrecked with worry by the time I got home, my stomach twisted into knots.

“Maybe he’s really sick,” Sara consoled when I called.

“Maybe,” I agreed, but I didn’t really believe it.

“Don’t start overthinking like you do.”

I won’t,” I assured her, but I’d already gone there―replaying everything he and I said throughout the entire day. I still couldn’t figure out what would've caused him to leave school so suddenly. Something must have happened in those few minutes I was away from him in the Art room. Maybe he got a text that I didn't see? Whatever it was, it was sudden, and he wasn't sharing.

“We’ll see if he’s in school tomorrow. Text me if your brain hijacks you and you need to vent.”

After I hung up, I pulled my books from my bag. I needed to distract myself, and I was hoping homework would help.

I was interrupted from the miserable depths of political theory by a knock at my door. Before I could respond, my mother stuck her head in.

“Hi,” she said, opening the door wider upon seeing me on my bed. “I wanted to see if Evan wanted to come to dinner tomorrow night. I thought he might be up here with you.”

I’d opened my mouth to answer when she picked up the textbook Sara had given to me. It had slid halfway out of my backpack. I scrunched my face when she read the title out loud.

“What’s this?” she asked, then started flipping through the book. “Wow, they’re really teaching you everything in high school these days. I could have used this when I went to school.”

Before I could consider the results, I blurted, “It’s not for school.” My mother's eyes widened and her mouth rounded in sudden realization. I wanted to close my head in the book.

“This is for you?” She asked, the shock still on her face. “You're still a virgin," she slowly concluded, like she wasn't expecting that to be the truth. The mortified look on my face made it obvious that it was. “I would have thought that you and Evan…” I dropped my head face first on my bed. This day could not get any worse. “Do you want to talk about it? I never thought I'd have to give the talk before, but I can if you want.” My head shot up at her offer, and that's when I found Jonathan paused in the hallway―yup, it had just gotten worse.

“No… really, um, that’s okay,” I stammered, cringing inwardly.

“Really, you can ask me anything,” she continued. I think she would have sat down on my bed to keep talking about it if Jonathan hadn’t knocked on the open door, letting her know he was there.

“Are you ready?” he asked. I couldn’t look at him. I wanted more than anything to disappear.

“Oh, yeah,” my mother responded, brought back to what she was supposed to be doing before she crossed all mother-daughter boundaries. “Well, ask Evan about dinner, okay?”

I could only nod, my explanation of his illness lost in the back of my throat. When she set down the book, I quickly shoved it deep inside my backpack.

Jonathan held the door open to let my mother pass, then said, “Goodnight.” I looked up, and he grinned widely.

“Goodnight,” I returned, my entire body on fire.

A few minutes later, I heard the closing of the front door. I tried to turn my focus back to my assignment, but kept finding myself checking my phone―begging it to light up with a message from Evan.

About an hour later, it did. Sorry I missed your call. I’m okay. Pick you up in the morning?

Yes, I texted back. I knew I wouldn’t find the relief that his text was supposed to provide until I actually saw him.

Falling asleep in the restless house was never easy. Staying asleep was virtually impossible. I flipped on the light next to my bed with my heart thumping. I stared at the door. A moment ago I could have sworn it had a hammer driving through it, trying to shatter it to pieces so she could get to me. In the light, the black door was intact and still.