Where We Begin

Chapter 12 - A Good Guy Deep Down

July 3rd, 2002 - Taylor

I never wanted to leave my bed. I never wanted to see anyone from Mt Blue High ever again. I stayed in my room, hiding from the world under my comforter, all morning. My head was pounding from the mild hangover, which probably would have been much worse if I hadn't purged the contents of my stomach last night. 

Speaking of which, I couldn't believe I hadn't gotten in trouble for that. Maybe my parents were going easy on me because of how horrible everything turned out, but they came in to talk about it earlier. My mom said the caterers found a couple empty handles of vodka in the trash, and that they suspected the kitchen punch bowl had been spiked.

I admitted that I had some of it and that's why I was such a mess, but I played dumb when she asked me if I had known it was alcohol or who I think could have done it. They seemed to buy the story that I had accidentally gotten drunk, or at least they didn't ask me about it anymore. The personal hell I was currently in was punishment enough.

What was messing with me the most was Busta. 

First off, I had no idea he was at the party until after I realized he was the one who had jumped into the pool after me. If he was right there to save me, he probably saw the whole fight with Kit and Susie. He must think all I do is get in arguments with people, and even worse, now he knows about all my dirty laundry. 

Actually, if anyone from school didn't know about it, I'm positive they did now. I probably looked like a nut case screaming at those two low-lifes.

Second, I was so confused about how he felt about me. In a matter of days, Busta had run the spectrum from flipping out on me, to selflessly rescuing me. When everyone around me was assuring me he was a waste of time, I kept holding onto this hunch that there was more to him. I was just getting to the point of agreeing with them, writing him off, that he was just some angsty loner and that was that. 

But then he goes and screws that all up, pulling this knight in shining armor routine out of the blue.

Someone who dives into a pool in front of a party full of strangers, to help a girl they barely know, has to be a good guy deep down. So maybe he wasn't an angsty loner. Maybe he just didn't like me. 

Anyone could see on the surface we were opposites. My designer clothes, high heels, and perfect manicure made me a walking stereotype straight off Rodeo Drive. Busta was the chill new kid from Chicago with his streaked hair, concert shirts and Chuck Taylor's. He probably wasn't interested in someone who looked as high maintenance as I do, which is exactly why I tried so hard to show him that I was fun and cool, I just look really cute doing it. I screwed that up though, because as he said, I still came across as a "spoiled rich girl".

I agonized over Busta, the fights, and the epic fail of a party for hours. I ignored my friend's phone calls and refused food and other attempts to cheer me up from my family. Eventually I got so fed up by all the gestures of good will interrupting my bad mood, I decided to go to Crescent Park. 

I always went running there when I really needed to be alone, especially because when I was done, there was this beautiful oak tree by a pond in the far corner that I liked to sit under and think. 

I changed into my black Nike sports bra and matching running shorts, threw on a sky blue mesh workout tank and my blue, black and white running shoes. Just because I was going to get sweaty didn't mean I couldn't be coordinated. It was actually a cloudy day (appropriate for my disposition) so at the last minute I grabbed a hoodie, in case it cooled down anymore. 

I popped my head into my sister's room briefly and told her where I was going so I could get out of there without any concern from the parental units. I wanted to make a quick exit, but I also didn't want them worrying about me anymore than they already were.

It's not a long walk to the park, but I wasn't going to waste an opportunity to drive my lovely new car. At least I had one great memory from my 16th birthday. 

As I drove, I started to feel a little better already. I think a little alone time would be just what I needed to clear my head.