Page 2 of Four Simple Rules
How could the boy who held me so tightly at night through my nightmares and pain be the same man walking the halls of Brighton High?
“We need to set up some rules for school, Blake. I… I want to protect you from getting hurt.” Only then, when his glossy eyes meet mine, do I suck in a breath.
“What? Protect me?”
He nods. “Brighton High is a cesspool of mean girls and assholes. I need to keep you safe, Tulip. You’re one of the good ones, and… you’re my best friend.”
My nose scrunches. “I didn’t feel like your best friend today.” Hurt soars through me when he sniffles, wiping a hand down his face.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to keep you safe. Posey, Melody, and Nat are unbearable, and if you’re in their sights, you’ll end up like Olivia. I don’t want that for you. I want you to stay under the radar and stay out of their sights.”
My thumbs twiddle in my lap. Olivia. That’s the girl I sat with at lunch today. She was all alone at the back table with tears in her eyes, pushing her food around. She eyed me suspiciously as I sat beside her, huffing as I longingly stared at my best friend. My protector. The boy who got me through my worst.
"They’re all mean. Don't mess with them," is all she said before she got up, threw her food away, and stormed out of the overcrowded cafeteria.
“What are these rules?” Saying such a thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like acid dripping on my tastebuds. Naturally, I want to be safe. If they’ve done mean things to that girl, I don’t want to be their next target.
Four Simple Rules. Easy. At least, that’s what I tell myself to keep Jesse in my life. He's all I have left, and I'm desperate to cling to him.
Jesse snatches my hand into his, curling his trembling fingers over mine. “One. Keep your head down.”
A large lump slides down his throat, bobbing his Adam’s apple, like nerves are soaring through his system with every word he whispers. His blond hair rests over his eyes, almost hiding the emotions he’s trapping inside. A small tic forms in his defined jaw the longer we sit beside one another, and he mulls over his next words.
“Okay,” I say, repeating the phrase inside my head. “Keep my head down. What else?”
“Avoid the baseball team, especially the baseball bunnies always hanging off us.”
Baseball bunnies? Is that what baseball groupies are called these days? Who knew such a thing existed? I furrow my brows. Gavin would never stand for this if he were here. He'd look at Jesse and shake his head. But he’s not here, and I’m not willing to lose my best friend, too.
“Why do you hang around them if they’re so mean?” I ask, darting my eyes to his, praying for a logical answer.
His hazel eyes widen, bouncing across my scrunched-up face. Flakes of gold sparkle throughout his eyes in the low sunlight, beaming through my bedroom window.
“They’re just my friends, okay?” Anger laces his voice, tinged with defensiveness and an edge. His knee bounces, and his sticky palm sweats against mine.
I don’t dare argue with him when he’s adamant about keeping me safe. So, I simply nod in acknowledgment.
“Okay.” My whisper hangs in the air, drawn out with uncertainty, as I reluctantly nod in agreement.
My throat constricts. This isn’t the boy who reaches for me as if I’m his only sanctuary from the evil next door. He’s not my Jesse. This is the Jesse Brighton High gets to see. The one I saw today walking the halls with a cocky grin and avoidance in his eyes. A heaviness sits on my chest like an elephant sitting down, making it hard for oxygen to fill my lungs. I suck in a breath. If there are more rules about to leap from his tongue, then it can only get worse from here.
“Three. Pretend you don’t know me at school,” he whispers, wincing when I pull my hand away from his. “It’s for your own protection, Tulip. I promise,” he hurries to say, breathlessly pleading with me to understand where he’s coming from.
But I don’t. I never will.
“Just like today?” I ask, remembering how I ached for him to look at me, to acknowledge me. But he never did. Not once. I was a ghost in his eyes—a person for him to laugh at with his friends.
I won’t beg to be his friend at school.
“Just like today,” he confirms through sorrow. “I don’t mean to be like this, Tulip. I want to keep you safe. You’re important to me.”
Am I, though?
“Okay,” I say, not fully invested in this idea that I am, in fact, important to him. But I’ll pretend for his sake that this matters. That I matter.
“And lastly, keep your window unlocked for me. I promise to come over every night, and we can talk. You can tell me about your day. I’ll tell you about mine. We can be best friends, just like we’ve always been. Here and the tree. But only if you promise to keep your window unlocked for me.” The faint bruises on his face from his fight with his father shine in the low lights of my bedroom, reminding me of why he needs me.
A conditional friendship. Just what everyone hopes for. Not. But I’ll do whatever I must to keep him coming to my room. I may be his sanctuary, but he’s my support. The center of my universe. He’s the one thing that’s kept me going since my twin brother died of cancer and since my mom took a drive and never returned.
