Page 11 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“Yeah.” I swish my foot through the water, sending droplets flying to create ripples across the surface. The almost set sun casts rays of oranges and pinks through the sky to reflect off the water.

“So that’s what your attitude has been about?”

“Yeah.” I sound like a broken record. I can’t help it. It’s hard for me to talk about the reputation I built last year.

“Look, I’m not gonna give you a bunch of shit, you’re doing enough to yourself. I’m also not going to act like you were a saint last year because you weren’t. Far from it and far from my best friend, but you’ve tried to make amends, multiple times, that’s all you can do. You know you’re not that person and it’s time to move on. You can’t let it continue to bring you down. People are going to say shit, but you have to let it roll off or it’s going to crush you. You made mistakes, just like everyone else does.” She nudges my shoulder again in a teasing way to cheer me up.

“I destroyed her life.”

“You called her Rusty Crotch in the cafeteria, loudly, when it was quiet, because she had the audacity to ask out Jonas’ best friend. You were a raging bitch last year. Yes, it hurt her I’m sure, but she is still alive and functioning and flourishing in her new school.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” I argue, slumping forward. As if I could wipe away the guilt and regret, I sit my drink by the edge of the pool and wipe the condensation off my hand onto my shorts.

“I’m not saying that, and not saying you should be happy about it. It’s just at some point you have to move on and try to forgive yourself.” Leaning my head on her shoulder, I close my eyes, wishing her words would register. Closure of the situation never happened because the girl never responded to any of my apology attempts. I wish last year would erase from existence. Hell, I’d even do senior year over if it meant the first time around never happened. The guilt I feel is ridiculous, and now, every time I’m around Riggs, I wonder what he is thinking. If he sees me or what a shitty person I was.

When he called me that in front of the entire class, I thought I was going to die. There was so much hatred in his eyes, so much tension coiled in his muscles. I wondered if he knew the girl. She is from his side of town, so it’s a possibility. In that case, it’s going to be a long semester. I feel like a dick for moping when she was the one whoIhurt out of all of this.Lesson learned, that’s for sure.

“Thanks, Foxy. I’ll try. I just have to figure out how to ignore Riggs Sutton.”

“Easier said than done, right? He’s pretty sexy this year.” She wags her eyebrows, a grin spreading her pale pink lips wide.

“You’re an idiot. Regardless of how sexy he is, the man thinks I’m a monster, and he’s right.”

“Werea monster. And hey, this hate he has for you might be some kind of weird foreplay.” She winks at me, and that’s when I know she had plenty of gulps of whiskey before I ever came to get my drink.

“For fuck’s sake, you are crazy and you need some food. There will be no foreplay or after play with Riggs. He’s the devil.”

CHAPTER7

For the last ten minutes,my phone has been ringing non-stop. As soon as I decline Jonas’ call, he dials and lets it ring again. Silencing the ringer, I put it on vibrate, which didn’t help because it was buzzing non-stop. Now it’s on silent and I’m trying my best to ignore it, but I still see the lights from the screen each time he calls. I’m ready to throw the phone across the room. There is no reason for him to call me, especially at one in the morning on a school night.

He has no reason to call me, period. I made him aware of that over summer break. Typical spoiled rich boy, he doesn’t get it. Well, no, scratch that, he gets it. He is choosing to disregard the fact that we broke up. Apparently, ignoring him at school and never answering his calls isn’t enough.

“What the fuck do you want?” I half scream into the phone when I swipe the little green button up, then bring my voice down because the last thing I need is my mother walking into the room. My parents have a tendency not to knock when they suspect a boy is here, or any other time, really.

“I want to hear your voice,” Jonas breathes down the static-riddled line. Wind is howling in the background with the sound of muffled voices. There also seems to be the beat of music pumping. He would still be out partying when we have to be to school in a few hours. Showing up drunk is not beneath him at all.

“You can listen to my voice when you leave a voicemail that says to stop calling me. Very specific instructions, actually.”

“I know, that’s why I keep calling you.”

I hang up. Anything he has to say after that is not worth my time and will only piss me off even more. Add fuel to my fire. A fire that doesn’t need to be burning because I shouldn’t put in the effort of thinking about him.

My phone rings again, and again, and again. This time, he leaves voicemails until my inbox must be full. I attempt to check them, but he has called me a few dozen times by now and won’t stop.

After laying a pillow over my phone so I can no longer see the light of the screen, I close my eyes. Hopefully, my mom will take upon herself to wake me in the morning because I’m going to need all the help I can get. I’m so tired from the anxiety of the weekend and sitting in the sun all day that it won’t register, if it’s even possible to hear the alarm under that pillow.

I wakeup to the pillow on the floor, my phone in my bed with the charging cord ripped from the wall and wrapped around my wrist. I guess dream-me is as annoyed with Jonas’ antics as awake-me was. Thankfully, it seems like he has given up on calling for now, maybe because he passed out drunk somewhere.

Oh, maybe he’s choking on his own tongue or suffocating in vomit.

That’s rude.

He doesn’t deserve to die because he’s a piece of shit. It’s not like he murdered or raped anyone. He stuck his dick where it didn’t belong, and I somewhat blame him for the monster I became. I know I can’t, that is on me, but sometimes it feels good to pass the blame to him and give myself a few moments of relief from the guilt that hounds me.

My phone flashes that the battery is almost dead, of course. It spent all night in my bed not charging while some psycho was calling it and draining the battery. There are ninety-eight missed calls and almost two dozen voicemails. I imagine some of them are of him jerking off into the phone to visions of me. Jonas is a big fan ofsextingand phone sex. He would leave me messages all the time, telling me he was touching himself. When I was with him, I thought it was hot. Now it’s creepy.

I crawl out of bed, exhaustion tugging at me still, and make my way over to plug my phone into the wall. There are still two hours before school starts, it will be somewhat charged. After I pee, I brush my hair and teeth, splash some water on my face, cause I need it, then tug on some yoga pants and a cami to go running in. I pull my hair back into a ponytail to keep it off my neck and stuff my feet into my trainers. I’m not looking forward to working out this morning thanks to Jonas, but it will help me with my energy because I’m zapped.

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