Dare to Fall

I opened the scrapbook my mother had made for me when I was three years old, and had given it to me as a birthday present when I was fourteen.

When I was three years old, she began putting pictures in the scrapbook. It was packed with family photos, which made me miss my father even more just looking at it.

My father died when I was thirteen, and I struggled for four years without him. I recall the last time I saw him was when he took me to a location somewhere in southern California over the summer, and I had no idea it would be our last road trip together.

As I flipped through the scrapbook's pages, I grinned to myself as I remembered. My father's memories were as new as yesterday, making it difficult for me to let go of him every day.

I collected all of my strength and stood up from my bunk, putting on some slippers as I stepped out of my room, taking the scrapbook that had been sitting on my lap, and placing it on the bed beside me. As I made my way down the stairs, I was greeted by the scent of marinara sauce. I started walking towards the kitchen, but I came to a halt when I saw my mother applying makeup to her face in the hallway mirror.

"What are you doing?" I wondered, cocking my head to the side and studying her reflection in the mirror. As I continue to look at her, I wondered. When she turns her head in my direction, she removes the foundation she was carrying and places it on the table in front of her.

She sent me a perplexed glance, and I returned the stare. "The usual," she says. She returns her attention to the mirror and starts applying makeup to her eyes, gently dabbing the powder onto her face with a beauty blender.

My mother goes on dates with many dudes she meets online every two weeks, both inside and outside her office. I've met several men that my mother has taken into our home, and the mere idea of her marrying another man makes me sick to my stomach.

My mother has been struggling to move on from my father's death. I tried to stop her initially, but I gave up when she started to ignore everything I said, notably when I voiced my displeasure with what she was doing. She claims she needs to forget about dad and get on with her life, and her response is to date random men.

But it wasn't an honest answer for me. "By the way, I bought pizza," she says as soon as she's finished adding red lipstick to her lips. I leaned on the wall, my eyes fixed on the time, which reads 7:15. "Please do the laundry and wash the dishes in the sink."

I rolled my eyes as I scoffed at her comment. I say whiningly, "I'm about to go outside to see Ethan."

Ethan is my childhood best friend.

I first met him in school, back when we were still living in Pennsylvania. Jen, his mother, was a friend of my mother's. My mother and Jen wanted to introduce us because they figured we'd be good friends, and we all ended up enjoying each other's company.

I moved out of Pennsylvania when I was seven years old, and we've been traveling to new towns and cities every year since then, leaving Ethan and our relationship behind. But then, just three years ago, my mother and I returned to Pennsylvania and agreed to stay for another three or four years, figuring that it was actually safer to stay this time than to leave. Ethan and I rekindled our relationship, and I vowed never to abandon him.

Perhaps it was too soon to make a commitment that I'll have to break shortly.

I've had a thing for Ethan for almost eight years, and I can't stop thinking about him after we moved out of this house. I never had the opportunity to tell him how I really felt about him; until he announced that he has a girlfriend with whom he has been dating for four years.

I've been hanging out with Ethan again after an eight-year absence, and ever since I moved out of town and out of his reach, he's been a different person. He wasn't the same guy with whom I had made friends in kindergarten.

I suppose it's understandable that everybody evolves—but do we grow for the better? Or are we just seeking to become a better version of ourselves without any positive intentions?

We've been friends for three years, and he hasn't adequately introduced me to his mother. Any time I want to bring her up, he says his girlfriend is out of town or isn't getting along right now. I didn't want to fight with Ethan anymore because he wouldn't tell me her name or show me a snapshot of her.

The more I hide my thoughts, the more it pains me that I want to observe him from afar, believing that he is in love with someone else. That someone else isn't me, by the way.

"How about I pay you for doing the chores?" Mom says, catching my attention. My eyes widened as a smile forms its way to my face.

I've been trying to save money for college, but I end up saving nothing every time I try. Whenever I head out to go shopping because of a discount or treat Ethan to something to eat, I typically end up snatching money from my bank account.

Furthermore, since I have not yet begun school, getting a career at this time would confuse my schedule.

"That is actually a great deal, but I would still be going out today." I say, "But... you can count on me," I added cheekily as my mom breaks into chuckles.

I marched back up the stairs to my place, turning around on my heel. When I got upstairs, I went straight to my nightstand to unplug my phone, which had been charging for almost three hours.

I receive text messages from Ethan, and in between messages, I smile. As I headed back down the stairs, I took my keys from the table and went to my wardrobe to get a sweatshirt.

"Don't forget about our deal." My mom says as she walked towards me, as I stop at the last staircase. I gazed at her from head to toe as I plaster a smirk on my face. "What do you think?"

She was clad in a silky red gown that hugged her torso and emphasized the figure of her body.

She twirls around slowly as I watch her in awe, "You look good," I say truthfully. "Please don't bring any of your dates back here again because it would be an awkward breakfast tomorrow morning," I added, making my mom laugh.

It had been two weeks since she had taken one of her dates home. Dave (or whatever his name was) was pacing around the kitchen in his underwear, behaving as he lived here.

My mother sighs and bends in close, kissing the top of my head. "I'll be home by eleven o'clock, and I expect the chores to be completed as I just said, and as we all agreed," she says, turning her heel and making her way to the front door first.

"You don't have to repeat it twice, you know," I say in an annoyed tone.

She comes to a halt in the middle of her journey, and tries to turn around to give me one more glance before leaving the building. "I love you," she says, rolling my eyes.

I blow her a kiss that made me cringe at the back of my hea. "Love you, too," I say, before I watch her disappear entirely out of my sight.

My phone began to ring from inside the pocket of my jeans. I sighed and reached into my pocket to retrieve my cell. I read the caller ID for a second before rapidly sliding the button to answer the call, rolling my eyes at the name.

"You are so impatient, and you know that?" I say as I put the phone on speaker mode as I placed it on the staircase, two steps above me as I pull the sweatshirt towards my head to wear it.

"I know, and I hate that I am," Ethan says on the other line, making me chuckle to myself at his honesty. "I'm ordering without you," he added, sounding bored.

I grabbed my phone on the staircase and instantly made my way towards the front door. I opened the door and stepped out of the house, locking it first before altogether leaving the place. "I told you to wait!"

"I am waiting," he says. "I'm just really thirsty."

I walked towards the garage as I made my way towards the car and unlocking it, "Why don't you just tell me what you wanted to tell me instead of going out today?" Ethan whines on the other line. "You know that my time is really precious."

I placed my phone on the dashboard, "Precious, because you are hanging out with your girlfriend and don't have enough time to hang out with me?" I say in a bitter tone.

"You know that's not true," I hopped inside the car as I placed the keys to the ignition, turning the key as the engine roars its way to life, and as I buckled up my seatbelt for safety.

"I'm about to leave the house now and drive towards the highway," I say, as I put the car on the drive setting and started to drive out of the garage and onto the road.

I told Ethan I wanted to catch up today because I wanted to tell him something. I decided that now would be an excellent time to come up to him and admit my true feelings about him instead of avoiding them.

It was preferable to confront the problem than to disregard it. I don't want to live another day and think back on the stuff I wish I had done, but didn't. I wanted to be honest with Ethan as much as he tried to be frank with me. Even if that means our relationship would be ruined due to my confession, and he will look at me differently; I will embrace it.

I'm so sick of staring at him with my own eyes. I believe it is time for me to share my thoughts about him with him. I want to express myself, and if he doesn't like it, I'll have to swallow the facts because that's the way things are.

For the very least, I won't have to continue suppressing my emotions any longer.

I ended up not telling him what I needed him to know.

You know how when you're placed on the spot because you've memorized the lines you'll deliver, and you're a hundred percent sure that you'll give them generously. Still, when you're on the spot, the particular spot, you start blabbering words out of your mouth that aren’t really relevant to the subject, and you end up not spilling what you actually intend to spill? That's what I have gone through the last three nights.

I felt my feet get cold as soon as I walked into the coffee shop. As a surge of fear swept over me, my surroundings darkened. I was trembling and terrified of telling him everything I had memorized in my mind. I guess I shouldn’t dare tell my best friend how I really feel.

I am a coward. Or maybe, I am just afraid that I might lose him and our friendship.

The first day of school is today. I just switched schools this year because I was having trouble at my former school.

When I got to school, I went straight to the Dean's office to get my schedule and, most likely, a school tour. Even so, I can't forget about the girl I saw earlier, the one with golden hair and a beauty mark under her left eye. I wasn't planning on inadvertently making someone's day harder by pulling them.

In my protection, my back pulled her, so I had no idea what was going on. It was completely unintentional, so it wasn't much of an accident for her.

"Mr. Anderson will see you now," A woman with a black pencil skirt and a long white top greets me. She was wearing thick-rimmed glasses, with her blonde hair dyed in such a blatant manner.

I watch her as she comes to a halt in front of a door and knocks before turning the knob and pulling it open. She smiles as she signals for me to enter the room; I gave her a nod before heading inside and watching her shut the door in my face.

"Please, take a seat, Ms. Jones," His voice was profoundly rough, yet it was loud enough for my ears to hear. I took a seat on his right side as I adjusted the chair to my liking before throwing him a smile of my own. "Welcome to Anderson High School."

"It's a pleasure."

"Right," He says, as he starts scavenging through papers on his desk before handing a paper towards me. "This is your schedule, and your locker number, as well as for your combination, is written down there. If you have any questions regarding the school, you can ask one of the students here."

I grabbed the paper from his hand and scanned it as I nod my head at what he just said. "I made a schedule for a school tour for you later at around..." he stops midway through his sentence and starts staring into his computer screen as he starts typing something on the keyboard, "Lunchtime; sound good for you?"

"Any time is a good time," I fake a smile as he nods his head, smiling at me. "May I leave now? I don't wanna be late for class anyway," I say, as he shook his head.

"You can check up the bulletin board outside this office if you want to. I already gave your first subject teacher a heads up about you being late," he says. "But if you insist on heading to your class, that's also fine."

"That's actually great, thank you," I say as I stood up from the chair. "It was nice meeting you..." I say as my face scrunches up into a questioning look. "Sir," I added, making him laugh as I headed towards the door awkwardly, twisting the doorknob as I pull it, then eventually leaving the room.

Before leaving the office, I gave a nod to the lady who had helped me earlier. The bell started ringing when I was out of the room, and I had no idea whether it was the tardy bell or not. As I began walking, I glanced at the timetable. I look up and down from the paper, trying to locate the room number for the first time.

I suddenly find myself being plunged towards the floor as I scratch the back of my head. I look up and saw a young man towering above me as he looks down on me. "Should've watched where you're going," he says.

He didn't even offer his hand out to me for help, and he says that as if it was my fault. "This is a hallway, and you're standing in the middle of it. Which means it's not my fault that I bumped into you. It's your fault for choosing to stand in the middle of this h-a-l-l-w-a-y," I said slowly, making him roll his eyes at me. 

I lift myself up from the floor, dusting the back of my jeans, as I purposefully bump into his shoulder as I walk by; he smiles. As I opened the door with the assigned number written on the nameplate beside it, my lips tugged into a smirk.

When I opened the door, all eyes instantly directed towards me. It was so quiet that it somehow bothered me. The teacher was standing beside a student as he gave me a questioning look, "Didn't I tell you that I hate students who are late?"

"I was walking from—"

"Detention!" 

He screams as I duck my head, shrinking into myself as I get myself to be embarrassed on the first day of school. The girls started whispering to each other as my face turns into a questionable look. "Cayden, baby," I hear the same girl from earlier, who I bumped into as well, saying that. I turn around and saw the hallway guy standing behind me.

He throws a nod towards the girl I accidentally pushed as she looks at me with the most intimidating look I’ve ever seen. "Hello there, gorgeous," he whispers right into my ear as I whipped my head around, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Both of you, detention! Don't make me come to the Dean's office and—"

"Okay, Mr. Brown, whatever." The guy behind me says, making some of the girls squeal as some of the boys started to snicker in their seats. "Jeez, don't get your panties in a twist, Mr. Brown. Calm yourself down if you don't want to get any wrinkles."

"Detention for two weeks!"

"You do know that I am related to the Dean, right? So, you tell him about anything that I'm doing; I can do the same to you as well."

"I have no place to be afraid of you," the teacher says. "Respect me as your teacher and go to the detention room or I'll drag you both there myself; what's it going to be?" He added, as he placed a hand on his hip.

I start to back up from the door as the hallway guy closes it. I started walking towards the left hallway, stomping my two feet like a child. "Where are you going?" I stop in my tracks as I hear the hallway guy shout.

I turned my heel around and gave him a snarky look, "Detention is this way, gorgeous," he says, making me roll my eyes and start stomping my feet once again. He starts chuckling to himself as I make my way towards him.

"Thanks a lot for getting me into one of your scripted troubles," I say, as I dart my eyes on him. I continue to walk towards the opposite hallway, finding my way towards the detention room.

They say that boys like him are hot and cool, but in my opinion, boys like him only scream trouble, which is the last thing I want to get myself into.