Growing Pains

Chapter Fourty-Seven

Gwen

We stood in Courtney's driveway, watching in silence as her family's servants filled a limousine with suitcases. It was like a scene from a movie. There was a logo on the front doors, a raven holding some sort of branch against a maroon banner. I thought it was fitting. The raven was a symbol for bad luck and I could not imagine worse luck striking our group.

Trent left two days ago. Our goodbye was teary and long. I promised to wait for him and he promised he'd return. I hoped we held our promises.

Then Duncan's parents found out about both of his fights with Justin, and made the decision to send him off to military school for a semester. So, his leaving date was coming up pretty soon too.

He wasn't here, and I wasn't sure he would come. Courtney and him were such a wreck. They were both so clearly in love with each other, but both too scared to do anything about it.

"That's the last of it," Courtney said with a grim look on her face. She turned to face us, "Well, I guess this is goodbye."

Bridgette started crying, practically tackling her as she wrapped her into a full on bear hug. "I'm gonna miss you," she sobbed.

Courtney laughed, though tears lined her eyes, "I'm going to miss you too." Bridgette pulled away after a second, wrapping herself around Geoff as she sniffled. He held her tightly with such care that I felt a bloom of happiness in amongst this pain.

Courtney gave him a curt nod, "Take care of her."

He nodded back as he said, "I can do that." She smiled at him then, squeezing his shoulder.

She walked over to DJ next. His eyes were lined with silver as he said, "I'm gonna miss you too, Court."

"Come here," she said with a smile as she hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, picking her up of the ground, causing her to let out a squeak. He set her back down and she pulled back, smiling at her friend.

She walked over to me next, her eyes brightening with tears. "Hey," she said, her voice breathy.

"Hey," I said in return. A tear slipped out of her eye and I felt my own eyes begin to water. We had grown so close recently. We had gone through so much together, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do without her.

She seemed to read all of that in my face because she gave me a small smile and pulled me into a hug. "Send me drawings in the mail and letters updating me on everything," she pulled back, her face damp, "Please." Her voice cracked on that final word.

So I squeezed her hand tight and said, "I promise." It was a promise I knew I wouldn't break.

She stepped back, taking a deep breath. She turned her face toward the road, staring at a the empty cul-de-sac, looking for someone who wasn't there.

She turned to DJ and asked, "Is he coming?"

His face turned sympathetic, "I don't know." She nodded as if she had expected as much.

"Ms. Barlow, we need to be leaving soon," a man with white gloves—who I was assuming was the driver—answered. I would have laughed at how stereotypical rich people were if I wasn't so sad.

She looked at the road once more, seeming to make her peace with it, and nodded her head. "Okay." She looked at us all, "Bye, guys. I'll see you in a couple months." When she framed it that way, five months seemed like a breeze. But I worried that by summer, we would be too different to even reconnect.

Our goodbye was cutoff by the rip of a motorcycle engine. We turned to see a very familiar person pull up at the curbside. He got off the bike, taking off his helmet and setting it on the seat in a swift motion.

I heard Courtney take in a sharp breath. I looked at her then, and she looked so relieved. She stumbled forward almost involuntarily.

Duncan looked at her with a sad smile and said, "Did you really think I was going to let you leave without saying goodbye?"

She let out a noise that could have been a laugh or sob, but it didn't matter because she ran down the small stretch of driveway that was left to him and crushed herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms so tightly around her that I wondered if she would suffocate. The moment felt so intimate that I found myself wanting to look away, but they were just so perfect, that it was hard not to stare.

I wasn't sure if I was the only one who heard it and no one said anything, but I heard Courtney swear softly, "I think I'm going to miss you the most."

"Don't say stuff like that, princess. You'll make me cry, and it'll ruin my whole bad boy persona," Duncan teased. She laughed at that pulling back with what looked like some reluctance.

"Thank you for coming," she told him. I couldn't see the look on her face, but his was that of love. I wondered how she could be so blind to it. I wondered if months apart would ruin it for them, but given that Duncan was going to an all boys military school, I'd say she would be the one to worry about.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow. He pulled back, brushing her face with his hands. He fished out the golden necklace I remembered briefly seeing at the cabin and said, "Take it. It's yours." She softly smiled, taking from her hands with a small nod. He helped her clasp it, which felt oddly more intimate and secretive than their embrace just moments before.

She pulled away finally, looking at all of us as she still clasped one of Duncan's hands—her other hand fiddling with the ornament on the necklace. "Don't have too much fun without me," she chuckled. She turned and lifted her brow at Duncan, "And be good."

"No promises," he smirked. She laughed at that.

"Ms. Barlow, it's time," the driver stated, bringing back in that crushing weight that seemed lighter for just a mere moment.

She nodded, wiping away a slippery tear that trickled down her cheek. "Bye, for real now," she waved, giving us a grim smile. The driver opened the door for her and she stepped in, sealed away from all of us.

I realized then that her parents had watched all of that. Her father's face twisted with a mix of emotions I couldn't place—none of them good, however. And her mother just looked... sad. She looked so sad as she stared at all of us, glancing back and forth between Duncan—who was staring at the door Courtney disappeared into with such blazing intensity—and the car.

What she pieced together I didn't know, but I felt a twinge of pity for this woman. She truly did not know the powerful light that was her daughter and that was a tragedy she would always have to live with.

We stood there in silence, banded together by our broken hearts, as the car pulled out the driveway and left the neighborhood. We stood there, watching the car leave until it was hidden from our eyes. Yet even then, we watched where it disappeared off to as if Courtney might turn around at any moment and snap at us for not doing anything useful with our time.

We watched until our standing turned to sitting, until her parents left, until the temperature became frigid, until the sky turned to night.

"My heart hurts," I finally admitted. "I didn't want anything to change and yet, everything is so irrevocably altered." My voice was hollow from the pit that had been eating at me this last week.

"I think it's okay for it to hurt," Bridgette offered.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely louder than any of the stars.

"Because it means that we're living and breathing. It's the pains of growing up. So, it has to hurt because that's how you know it's real." Her voice rang out into the cold winter night, and we let that sit with us as we drank in the evening stars.

"Growing pains bite," Duncan said after a long stretch of silence.

I let out a breezy chuckle as I replied, "That they do."

But maybe one day, it would all be worth it.