Page 11 of Fixing Emilee

Unlike all the times I stood here before, I’m not alone. Standing shoulder to shoulder with me is Levi. We’ve become close, and I consider him my best friend. He grabs my hand, and I look at him as he says, “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You can do this.” One of the biggest lessons I have learned from therapy is that it’s okay to ask for help. Doing so doesn’t make you a weaker person. Realizing that you need help and taking the steps to get it makes you stronger. I spent so long thinking that I had to face everything alone. I’m pretty intelligent, but that was a dumb move.

Squeezing his hand, I take one more deep breath for good measure and pull open the doors. Stepping through, Tiffani stands on the other side, smiling at me. “Welcome back,” she says while wrapping me up in a hug. When she pulls back, she’s not looking at me but staring behind me. A blush starts creeping up on her face. Curiosity gets the best of me, so I look over my shoulder but see no one besides Levi. Levi? Tiffani? I make a mental note to ask one or both of them about this later. Just like my friendship with Levi has taken off, the same goes for her. She has become a constant in my life. We have talked every day since I messaged her, thanking her for her kind words. She wasn’t shy and came over Monday, sitting with me for hours, talking about anything and everything. She never asks me about what happened and never stares at my scars. It’s a relief to know I have an ally outside my family. I make sure to tell her how thankful I am for her.

“You just saw me yesterday,” I say, laughing as she moves to my left side but keeps her arm around my waist.

“Yeah, but you’re here, and I know this is a huge step for you. I’m so proud of you,” she says, and I pull her even tighter against my side. “Are you ready to do this?”

My eyes instantly go to the floor. It’s a defense mechanism I picked up and have been trying to work on. Shaking my head, I square my shoulders, pull my head high and remember what Mr. Gold said, “Even when you don’t feel confident, hold your head up as high as it can go. You deserve to walk with your head high just like everyone else.”

“Yes, I am,” I reply, letting go of Levi’s hand but keeping Tiffani close. As the three of us walk side by side past the rows of tables, the little voice in my head yells at me to look back down, but I refuse.

A few people we pass wave and say welcome back. I can’t help the blush gracing my cheeks because all the attention is awkward and foreign. The anxiety I felt before coming in has started to lessen until my gaze seems to instantly find the two individuals I’m worried about. Christian and Vanessa stand halfway down the hallway, between us and the lockers, leaning against the left wall. My feet trip over nothing, and I tighten my grip on Tiffani to keep myself from falling. We are going to have to walk right past them. The impulse to run away is back and ten times worse. My chest starts to tighten, my hands begin to shake, and I’m having difficulty breathing.

Tiffani grabs my arm and stops walking the moment I do, but Levi keeps going, not noticing that something is going on. He only takes a few steps before noticing that he’s all alone. My vision is getting hazy from the lack of oxygen, but I see him look over his shoulder. I start rubbing my chest, hoping to ease the pain. His eyes track my movement before spinning so fast that his shoes squeak, and he races back to me. Pulling me to face him. “What’s wrong?” Concern laces his words as he looks around us but doesn’t see Christian and Vanessa standing behind him.

“Them,” is all I can get out around the massive lump in my throat. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. I nudge Tiffani and nod over Levi’s shoulder to tell her where they are.

“There,” Tiffani says to Levi, pointing them out.

When he looks over his shoulder, his body goes stiff. Turning back to look at me, he takes my hand and squeezes it. “Come on, mimic my movements. Look at my chest and watch it. In,” he breathes in, and his chest pushes out. I do as he says and mimic him. “And out.” His chest retreats as he lets out his breath. After a few more times, the pain eases in my chest. “Remember, sissy, they can’t say or do anything to you. The only one who has control over you is you. You have the upper hand in this game of theirs. You are not alone and never will be again. All you have to do is say the word, and I will go over there to make them leave so you don’t have to see them.”

He’s right, they can’t say anything to me. There was a school board meeting Monday between my grandparents, them, and their parents. My grandparents shocked everyone when they brought in the lawyer they obtained when they saw all the stuff I kept in that little drawer. The lawyer presented the school board, Christian’s family, and Vanessa’s family with a relatively simple, written agreement. There were two options, they all signed it, or my family was ready to take everything we had to court. The lawyer would go to the police and press charges against Christian and Vanessa for anything and everything they’d done. My family would also sue the school for not protecting me while on school property.

The agreement states that Christian and Vanessa are not allowed to speak to me or talk about me to anyone else. And just as importantly, they are not allowed to touch me in any way. The school had to agree to monitor the cameras and take anything being reported to them seriously. There will be no more turning a blind eye to what is clearly happening in plain sight. Everyone signed on the dotted line within seconds of legal consequences being threatened against them. According to Levi, because I wasn’t allowed to go, “he who lies” was there and helped gather evidence of the school’s blatant disregard for my safety. I stopped listening to him as soon as he saidhisname. Even knowing I have this agreement, I’m still nervous about everything. I’m not sure that a piece of paper will stop them from doing whatever they want. How would a piece of paper do that if my tears and pleas didn’t stop them?

Tiffani tightens her arm around my waist, and Levi throws his arm over my shoulder. I take a deep breath repeating, “they have no control over me” in my head. Together we start walking again; this time, I don’t stumble or even glance down. I keep my eyes straight ahead, but I can see them out of my peripheral vision. They look right at us as we pass, but their gazes don't linger; they go straight to the floor. The feeling that rushes through me when they look down is indescribable. It reinforces that I’m stronger than I was, and I feel they can also sense that. When we get to my locker, I tell them to go on.

“I’m fine, I promise. I can do this alone. I need to do this alone. You guys can’t hold my hands through the whole day.” I pull both of them in for a hug. “I love you both and will see you at lunch.”

“If you need us, don’t hesitate to message us,” Levi says, and Tiffani nods in agreement.

I watch them walk away and then turn to my locker. Pulling my shoulders back, I open the door expecting it to be empty. Levi and Tiffani brought all my books, notebooks, and pens home. They’re all in my bag, waiting for me to put them back. However, to my surprise, it’s not empty. My stomach drops to my feet, and my palms start to sweat. Laying on the bottom are five folded-up pieces of paper. They wouldn’t break the agreement so soon, would they? Picking up the letters, I see that it’s not Christian or Vanessa’s writing on the outside. Written on the outside of each letter is a date, my name, and “love, Parker.” It’s worse than I imagined. I can feel the sting of tears as I empty my backpack and shove the letters in without reading them. Grabbing what I need for English, I turn and walk into the room across the hall just as the bell rings.

“Welcome back, Emilee.” Mrs. Crawford is out of her chair, pulling me in tightly for a hug before I can respond.

“It’s good to be back,” I say. Pulling away from her, I hope that she doesn’t notice the tears in my eyes. I don’t need her worrying and calling my grandparents. They both just went back to work. We can’t afford for them to miss any more days because of me. They worry enough as it is. If they had it their way, I would finish school at home, so I need to find a way to face all three of them soon.

“I have graded all the assignments that you turned in last week. Sit in your seat, and I’ll get them for you,” she says, heading back to her desk and looking through the stack of papers sitting on top.

My gaze lands on the table that has been my seat for seven months, and I internally start to freak the fuck out. With all the drama in the hallway of seeing Christian and Vanessa, I somehow forgot I would have to sit next to him. The class is forty-five minutes long. How can I possibly sit beside him when I have a panic attack at the mention of his name? I can’t. I open my mouth to ask for a different seat but shut it. No, damn it. If I move to another table, they get another win, and it’s about damn time I get one instead. At the beginning of the year, we were allowed to choose our seats, and I picked this one for a reason. I sat there and ignored him before falling for his lies and charm, before I fell in love with him, I can and will do it again.

I straighten my back, wipe the tears from my eyes, walk to my table, pull out the chair, and sit down. As I settle in my seat, I take my feet and push his chair as far away as possible. I set my bag on the table beside me to act as a divider between us. As the other students enter the room, they smile at me and say hello. A few tell me how proud they are of me for coming back. It seems like almost everyone is glad that I’m here. Reaching over, I pinch my arm, not hard, but hard enough to know that I’m awake and this is not a dream. I smile and thank them all, trying not to blush with all the attention. I’m about to tell Bev I will think about eating lunch with her, but his smell reaches my nose.It causes the words to die on my lips.

My body stiffens as his unique smell fills my lungs. I’m still staring at Bev, afraid to move my gaze off her because he is in this room with me somewhere. “Here you go.” Mrs. Crawford steps into my line of sight, and I relax slightly. With her standing in front of me, she’s blocking my view of the doorway where he has to be.

“Thank you,” I whisper. As she walks away, I try to swallow around the lump in my throat, but it won’t go away. My gaze instantly goes to the door, and sure enough, there he is. Parker is standing in front of me for the first time in over a week. My eyes travel his whole body, starting at his feet and ending with his blue eyes. He has dark circles under them like he hasn’t slept well. His hair is tousled from wearing his helmet or running his hands through it. He’s wearing his signature clothes, black jeans and black motorcycle boots, but he’s missing his leather jacket. Instead, he’s wearing a black hoodie, just like the one in my closet that I haven’t returned.

Seeing him without his jacket hurts my heart because I know where it is. It’s tucked in the bottom drawer of my dresser at home. The day after I got released from the hospital, Nana brought it into my room, asking me if I knew whose it was. I told her yes, I knew who it belonged to, and I would return it when I went back to school.

I wanted to tell her to burn it, but at the same time, I wanted to wrap myself up in it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that Christian and Vanessa were evil, but I’m having a hard time accepting that the same guy who told me he never wanted to let me go was lying to me the whole time. She left it with me, and as soon as she was gone, I inhaled the lingering scent that is uniquely him and him alone. I slept with it that night as tears streamed down my face, but the following day, I was determined to get over him, and in order to do that, the jacket had to go in the drawer.

He’s standing there looking at me as if he’s seen a ghost. His eyes are wide with shock, and his brows are pulled together. I break eye contact first, looking down at my notebook, hoping he didn’t see the tears in my eyes. This hurts so much more than I expected it to. All the hard work I put into building walls around my heart and telling myself I could handle this crumbles to dust. When I look at him, I can see him wrapped up in Vanessa’s arms, talking about how their plan was working. I close my eyes tightly to try to keep the tears in. The image of them laughing at me and him kissing her like he did me, breaks my heart all over again. Who knew your heart could break so many times? Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why couldn’t he just be the good guy he promised me he was?

I’m starting to think he may turn and leave the room because he’s still just standing there, not moving. Shaking his head a little bit, he finally moves toward me, and my heart starts pounding so loud in my ears. My hands tremble, so I place them on my lap, hoping to hide them from everyone. Even with my eyes down, I know he’s still staring at me. I can feel his gaze on my body. He’s taking me in just like I did him, but I don’t understand why. When I was looking at him, I didn’t see hate or anger. I saw shock and maybe a little bit of fear. I tell myself it doesn’t matter what I saw in his eyes. What matters and what I need to remember is how he used me, lied to me, tricked me, and in the end, destroyed me. I might not want to believe that he is the bad guy in this situation, but that doesn’t change the truth: he is, in fact, the bad guy.

The second bell rings as he pulls his chair away from the end of the table where I pushed it and sits down much closer than I want him to. I want to move my chair away from him but don’t want to cause a scene. Mrs. Crawford doesn’t make a big deal about me being back; she just goes straight into the morning announcements. I try to focus on the sound of her voice and the words coming out of her mouth like my grade depends on the lunch menu, but it’s a lost cause. I’m consumed by Parker’s presence. It feels like he is sitting in my lap, wrapping himself around me. All I smell is him, all I feel is the confusing emotions rolling off him, and all I can see is his face. Shifting, I put my left arm on the table and place my head in my hand, so my hair hangs down like a curtain between us.

Mrs. Crawford has moved on to her lecture for today, and I start writing everything she says down in my notebook. I can’t see him, but my hearing is attuned to his every move, and he never makes a sound. It’s like he is sitting there, not moving, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, I’m sure. The class takes forever to get over. My heart rate and breathing never calms down. I’m starting to get another ache in my chest that is not going away. My hand cramps up from all the writing. Mrs. Crawford always stops talking a few minutes before class ends to give us time to pack up, but I don’t stop writing. I switch from writing the class notes to the thoughts going through my mind and how I feel.

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