“Will you think about this seriously for one second? How selfish do you need to be to ruin this guy’s life? What if someone finds out he has been talking to you? What if they research and see you are seventeen? Do you know what that can mean for him?”
I frown and open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out. To be honest, I have been selfish. When I signed up for this app, I knew being seventeen was frowned upon, but I didn’t think about the implications if whoever I spoke to got into trouble.
“Of course, you didn’t think about that.” Alicia’s green eyes judge me with disappointment. “You could wait another week, you know. You’ll be eighteen. An adult.”
“We haven’t talked about anything bad or crossed the line. It’s just been as friends, Alicia.”
“And what are you going to do when he asks you for a picture? Because he will, eventually. He’ll want to make sure he isn’t talking to an old man jacking himself off behind a computer!”
“Alicia!”
“It’s true. I can’t believe you’d do this—”
“You can’t believe it, Alicia? You have a perfect life. You have a mom and dad who love each other and wait on you hand and foot. You don’t have to be afraid to go home after school every day. You don’t know what it’s like to need a break from it all. So excuse the hell out of me for needing something other than what life has given me!” I scream at Alicia, and it causes her to flinch. My loud-mouth has a few people staring at me, and I hurriedly walk away, almost smashing against Alicia’s shoulder as I do.
I’m only mad because she’s right. Alicia does have a good life, but that doesn’t give me the right to throw it in her face. My misfortune doesn’t give me the right to talk to someone I don’t know, possibly setting them up for failure because of my age, or lack thereof. The contempt I have for my life doesn’t warrant me to be immature, naïve, and selfish.
I want to be.
But Alicia is right—I need to think about others around me. If Isaac ever found out he was talking to a seventeen-year-old, he’d freak.
I don’t care that he’s thirty-two, but it’s different for men; especially when the law is involved. And right now, he’s breaking the law and he has no idea.
Is he, though? The voice in the back of my mind says, almost having me tripping over my own two feet as I hurry out the double doors of the school.
It doesn’t matter if anything inappropriate hasn’t been said yet; it will lead up to that. I can’t continue to lead him on. It isn’t fair. It’s best if I don’t answer back, or maybe I can give a weak excuse like I’m going camping and won’t have service for a few days.
My phone dings, and it’s the sound I set for the dating app notification. Guilt eats away at me when I see it’s Isaac messaging me.
IsaacGray88: I’m thinking we should call one another at some point. I want to get to know you more.
Oh, no. This is a bad idea. This is what Alicia was trying to warn me about. I shove my phone in my pocket again, ignoring his message.
I’m so damn stupid. How else did I think this little idea of mine was going to go?
My phone vibrates again as I walk down the street, and I pull it out of my pocket and press the button to turn it off.
The summer heat has beads of sweat dripping down my neck, and I stop under a nearby tree to take my backpack off and sling it to the ground. I take off my shirt, unzip my bag, stuff it inside, and take a breather. My tank top is damp, but I feel a lot better without another layer on; that’s for sure.
Not wanting to go home, but not having another choice, I situate the strap on my shoulder and head out into the sun with Isaac heavy on my mind.
We haven’t been speaking that much to one another. It’s small talk, no boundaries have been crossed, no nudes have been sent, but no matter what, a grown man can’t be friends with a seventeen-year-old.
It isn’t right.
Even the small banter back and forth with him brought me peace and let my mind focus on something other than Trevor, my mom, and my dad.
I stop at the tree line and look back toward the school. It’s small, run-down, and a few teenagers mill around outside, soaking up every last second they can before having to go to class. I hate everything about this town. There are no opportunities, everyone dates everyone, and no one ever leaves.
Everyone gets married to their high-school sweetheart, the men get a job at the local factory or Wal-Mart, and the woman stay at home, popping out babies left and right. I want more for myself than the dead-end life that waits for me here.
I have to survive another week. If I can do that, I’ll admit my age to Isaac and maybe he’ll still want to talk to me and be friends.
Another naïve thought. I’m just wracking them up today.
I sigh in relief when the cool, damp air of the shaded woods engulf me, drying the sweat on my skin. I reach behind my head and gather my hair, twisting it until it’s tight as a rope before circling it on the base of my neck. It’s too hot to wear it down.
When I move away here, I’m moving somewhere that doesn’t make me sweat so much.
I wipe the salty beads of liquid off my brows with the back of my hand before the moisture can drip in my eyes. The path I take is worn, the dirt showing from the every day use from my shortcut. I hold onto the straps of my backpack and step over a small tree branch that fell from a storm we had the other night.
My phone is burning a hole in my back pocket. I want to message Isaac back. One more time won’t hurt, right? My fingers twitch as I reach back to grab my phone, but I think better of it and drop my arm. I don’t want to be the person who traps a guy into liking her when he isn’t allowed to.
I already miss talking to him, the freedom and peace it brought me to talk to a complete stranger. Going as far to say I like him is a stretch because I don’t know him well enough, but I know I like talking to him. I like how I feel when I do.
It’s been a long time since I felt anything other than hatred.
I come to the end of the woods, and my broken-down house comes to view. It’s hard to believe something so ugly used to be beautiful. It’s a ranch-style three-bedroom home with plain white siding that needs pressure washed from all the residue build-up. The roof is missing a few shingles, and the right side of the front porch sags.
Where there used to be beautiful flowers, roses, daises, and tulips, are long weeds and dandelions. I stopped plucking the fluffy flowers when I walked up the front steps that led in the house six months ago. Wishing on weeds is pointless, especially when the wishes never come true.
I peek around a tree and glare at the front door. Trevor should be stumbling out of it any second now, to go to the bar where most of the illegal shit he’s involved in goes down. It’s where my mom met him. She was drowning her sorrows a few months after Dad died and met up with Trevor, who only seems to bring her lower to the ground every day.
I’ll have to bury her because of him. I guarantee it.
I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. My mom wants to wither away. My dad was her heartbeat. I’m not enough to keep her alive, and while it hurts like hell, I came to terms with it a long time ago. I can’t tell how many times I’ve seen her on the couch, passed out, with coke smeared on her nose.