Duality

Chapter 3- The Beater

"Okay, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The whole Kirk, Spock relationship was great. Actually, it was amazing. Can I marry Scotty, now?" She downed the rest of her hot tamales.

We stepped from the movie theater onto the boardwalk once more, the sky now transformed from a pulsing orange to a deep, velvet indigo. A Cheshire cat smile of a moon grinned from behind wisps of translucent cloud. We walked slowly away from the Ferris wheel toward the deserted parking lot where my ol' Mustang beater was waiting.

"So I was looking in encyclopedia the other day," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets once more. "And I found the entry 'vulcanized rubber.' Wanna guess the definition?" She shrugged. "Spock's birth control."

She doubled over laughing. I smiled and kicked an empty Coke can across the walk. "So you're really going to try out for cheerleading, huh?"

She straightened and her laughter subsided. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Yeah, I dunno, I guess it would look good on my college application if I make it this year and continued next year. I'm pretty flexible anyhow, so it's a good way to use my talents, you know? Instead of doing back flips in the living room all time, I mean. Plus I get to go to all the games, no matter what my aunt says. Though I can tell you right now that she's thrilled at the thought of me in skirt for whatever reason. But I'd like to try it, and I don't care what other people think, because who are they to judge what I do as an extracurricular activity?" She somehow managed to say her whole speech in one breath, almost mechanically, like she'd practiced it a hundred times. She looked nervously from me to the empty candy box in her hand and slowly crushed it. I cocked an eyebrow.

"What on earth are you so hyped up about? You'll be fine; I've seen you get guys to cheer and whistle before and then you've preceded kick pretty high. It'll be a breeze for you!" I grinned at my own joke, waiting for her to smile and shake it off like she usually does. But this time she looked solemnly at the crushed hot tamale box in her hand and sighed.

I nudged her shoulder, putting on a serious face. "Look, in all honesty, I am scared whether you make it or not. Delilah is judging, along with the rest of her friends. They're harsh on you, Blythe, I don't know why. They-" I stopped. I really didn't have to tell her everything.

She stood still and faced me. "They what?"

I cursed myself for starting off with "in all honesty". I couldn't look her in the eyes. My hands couldn't go any farther in my pockets. "They- they've told me more than once that I shouldn't be friends with you; that I should just forget you and leave you alone. They said that without me you're nothing, and that if I stopped talking to you then people would treat you the way you actually deserve to be treated, which in their opinion isn't that great a way." I shuffled my feet and shook my long hair in my face, the curls poking me in the eye. Good. That's what I deserved.

She looked down, saying nothing and continued to walk toward the parking lot. I jogged up beside her, biting my tongue as hard as I could, as a punishment, until I tasted blood. Why did I have to do that to her? What the hell was wrong with me?

We made our way to my rusty Mustang and I opened the door for her. This Thursday night routine was usually more cheerful; where I acted like a mock chauffer and her some type of royalty. But tonight I opened the door with the upmost respect. This was the treatment Blythe really deserved; the kind where a man always opened the door for her and drove her home safely every night.

I went to the other side and got in the driver's seat. She was sitting politely with her hands in her lap, still staring at the crushed candy box. I sighed and started the car.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"That was a lot of honesty for one night."

"Yeah. I know."

I wrapped my arm around her and watched silently as her tears fell on my shoulder.

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