“Don’t mention it.”
She nods, giving me a small wave as she moves to close the door.
“Hey, Cooper?” I call after her.
She turns back, ducking down to look at me. “Yeah?”
I turn around grabbing my backpack from the back seat. I open the front pocket, digging through it for a few seconds before I find the flash of dark blue that I’m looking for. “Here,” I say, tossing her my JourneyFrontierscassette tape. She barely catches it, bouncing it in her hands a few times before getting a firm grip on it. Once she does, she stares down at it, her brows pulling together. I wait until she looks back up at me again.
“Educate yourself over the weekend, will you?” I tell her.
“Um, I–”
“Bye, Cooper,” I say, giving her a tight grin and motioning for her to shut the door.
She does, and I take off the minute she steps back, wondering as I pull out of the parking lot of Groovy Movie if I’ll ever see the cassette of my favorite album again.
twenty-three
SARA
It’s quiet.Too quiet.
I always found so much comfort in the silence of the empty library in the afternoons. It was honestly my favorite time of day, the only time I could really hear myself think. But now, my thoughts just feel entirely too loud.
As much as it felt like Robbie had crashed my serenity space when he started his detention sentence here–and as much as I hate to admit this–I really grew accustomed to him over the last month.
I got used to the silence being replaced with the sound of his foot tapping and him humming along to his music. I adapted to the once empty space around me being taken up by him, the movements of him pushing around book carts or bobbing his head to whatever song he was listening to becoming a fixture in my peripheral vision. Even though my library volunteer shifts used to be an hour where I would fully zone out of the rest of life and focus in on my task at hand, and even though he may have driven me crazy the first week, I learned to appreciate the interruption and brain break of Robbie asking me questions every few minutes, whether they be related to the library or entirely random.
I always knew his time here had an expiration date on it, and I was completely fine with that. I had zero attachment to Robbie Summers. If anything, I’d call it the opposite of that. Or, at least…I would have. But now, it’s Monday, and it’s the first afternoon in a month that he hasn’t been here with me.
I should be thrilled. I should be frolicking through the bookshelves and thanking my lucky stars that my afternoons are my own again. But instead, in the barely five minutes I’ve been in the library, I’ve already lost track of the amount of times I’ve glanced up or over my shoulder, just expecting to see Robbie there.
But he isn’t, and then I feel silly. Without him here, and with Ms. Rose running errands around the school, I keep finding myself clearing my throat just to break the silence.
It doesn’t help.
Just a minute ago, I turned a corner and found a wadded up piece of notebook paper on the ground, and instead of picking it up with the intention of tossing it in the trash, my first reaction was to scoop it up and throw it at Robbie.
Only, Robbie isn’t here.
I let out a breath as I walk through the door to Ms. Rose’s office, setting a stack of books down on her desk. I stand there for a moment, just listening to the quiet nothingness. You could hear a pin drop, only the sound of my steady breathing filling the space. I run my hands through my hair, then glance up at the office door. I immediately look away, irritated with myself for picturing Robbie leaning up against the door frame. I imagine what snide remark he’d make. Or what goofy unwarranted comment he’d offer. Or what ridiculous question he’d ask me. It would all depend on his mood. I start to feel like I may be going insane when I swear I hear “Cooper?” echoing in my ears.
I shake my head, digging through my backpack for the candy bar I put in there earlier, looking for a distraction. I still have nearly forty minutes to kill. Forty minutes until I can leave and not be constantly reminded of Robbie. It’s not until I find the Charleston Chew bar at the bottom of my backpack that I remember I’m going dress shopping with Alice after school today. Dress shopping for the Homecoming dance…withRobbie. I groan, tearing open the end of the candy bar wrapper and taking a bite. I let out a hum of satisfaction at the chewy nougat chocolate bar, telepathically thanking my mom for leaving it for me on the kitchen counter this morning.
As I take another bite, a flash of silver in my backpack catches my eye. I pull open my backpack and spot the Walkman staring back at me. I purse my lips, thinking back on my weekend.
I slept restlessly on Friday night, then found myself wide awake and staring at my ceiling by six in the morning. After multiple failed attempts at falling back asleep, I gave up, kicking my covers off.
By the time my mom was up and making breakfast at nine o’clock, I had already finished all of my homework and studying I had planned to do over the weekend, and even gotten ahead.
I cleaned the kitchen after breakfast, then found myself wandering back into my room, not sure what to do with myself for the next several hours until I had to leave for work. I tried to start working on my scholarship essay, but found myself too anxious to focus on it, my mind continually wandering to the class election this coming Friday and the speech I have to give for it. I switched to attempting to write my speech, but then I just felt like I was going to throw up, so I gave up on that too.
I pushed harshly away from my desk, and when I did so, my backpack that had been hanging by a strap on the back of my chair slipped off. I spun around as I heard some of the contents skittering across the floor. I let out a heavy breath as I bent down to pick up the small items that had slid out, and I found my head tilting when my gaze locked in on the little blue cassette tape. The one Robbie had tossed at me the day before, for reasons I still don’t understand.
I had completely forgotten about it, shoving the thing inside my bag as I walked into Groovy Movie after Robbie peeled away from me in his Camaro. I picked it up then, examining it for the first time. The cassette was colored dark blue, with artwork of some sort of alien figure pictured along with the band and album name.
I knew a few Journey songs. They were good, I guess. But I didn’t understand why Robbie was so hellbent on me listening to this album. Or why he had felt the need to inflict pain on me for changing the station during one of their songs.