Robin Constantine - The Promise of Amazing

Ah, the Harvard-stomping guidance counselor.

“Miss Caswell, this is Sacred Heart property, and you’re still representing this school and the Spirit Club. I won’t tolerate this. What’s your name?”

“Grayson Barrett, ma’am,” I answered, standing up straight.

“I’d better not see you within a five-block radius of this school for at least a month, Grayson Barrett, or I’ll call the police, do you understand me?”

Luke stood by Ava, triumph on his flushed face.

“Don’t forget, Wren,” he said.

She flipped Luke off. He pouted and put his hands over his heart in mock hurt, finally scowling at me. My blood boiled. I started toward him again, but Wren dug her nails into my raw hand so hard, I winced.

“Grayson, please, just stop,” Wren said, keeping her grip on me. When we got closer to the Chrysler, she let go of my hand. I walked over to the passenger side, to open the door for her. She stopped in her tracks.

“Wren, I can explain,” I said, my voice unsteady. Not knowing what Luke had told her, I wasn’t sure what kind of explanation I could offer.

“Do I want to hear it?” she asked. “Whatever it is, it must be really awful for you to go at him like that.”

My brain went numb. I put my hands in my hair, tugging at my roots, closing my eyes.

“Why did he say his property was around my neck, Grayson?”

“You heard that?”

“He was looking over your shoulder at me when he said it,” she said.

“Wren, please, let’s just go somewhere and talk. I’ll explain, I promise. What did Luke mean by, Don’t forget? Don’t forget what?”

“He needs to speak to Mike Pearson. He said it would mean more coming from me. What does that even mean, Grayson? Who is that?”

I’d heard that when you die, you see your life flash before your eyes. It hadn’t happened when I’d choked, but it happened now. Only, it was Mike Pearson’s life that flashed before me. Faces of chicks I thought I’d long forgotten and houses we’d swiped stuff from all rushed before me as I stood before the only girl who mattered.

“Grayson, please, who’s Mike Pearson?”

Of course Luke would know exactly what to say to Wren to make it lethal. I jammed my eyes shut, tried to right the sensation I had of free-falling down a deep dark hole, and took a deep breath.

“Me, Wren. I’m Mike Pearson.”

Her eyes turned a brighter shade of blue when she cried.

We sat in the Chrysler, behind the A&P only a few blocks from Sacred Heart. My confession flowed easily, as if I’d only been waiting for the right time to tell her. I left out names and places, details I’d either forgotten or forced myself to forget. I didn’t tell her about Andy, Dev, or Logan specifically, just that I had other friends involved. But I told her how we’d worked, how I’d worked. There was no spin-doctoring, no not-exactly-a-lie half-truths. I felt so detached, it was like I was telling someone else’s story. I blocked out her occasional sniffles, trying not to look at her, because every time I did, my heart imploded a little more.

After I finished we sat in silence, broken only by Wren’s occasional sobs. I wanted to reassure her that I had changed, that what I had with her was all I wanted, but I sat frozen. The longer we sat, the more scared I became of what she was going to say.

“Did you sleep with any of them?”

I breathed out, closed my eyes, and leaned back on the headrest. There was no turning back from this.

“Two of them,” I whispered.

“Allegra?”

“Last spring, Wren. Yes. Before I knew you.”

She looked out the passenger window, her breath forming moisture on the glass.

“W-w-what were you doing at the mall?” she stammered, a curtain of hair hiding her face. “Were you planning on hooking up with her again?”

“No .” I reached for her, but she shrank away.

“Then what?”

“Luke threatened me. He said he’d talk to you if I didn’t go talk to her.” Christ, it sounded so dumb. What exactly would he have told her? I’d been with girls? The excuse justified nothing.

“He really has that kind of power over you?”

“Fuck no,” I said, looking at her.

“You didn’t have to go there—”

“Wren, what we have—”

“We have nothing.”

“Don’t say that. That other stuff . . . that happened before we met. What we have is real.”

“I saw the way she looked at you, Grayson. Don’t kid yourself . . . that was real to her.”

Wren’s words, her eyes, were a knifepoint. All this time I’d justified my actions by pretending to be someone else, but my role in our scamming had been more detestable than stealing goods. Gadgets? Necklaces? iPods? All that stuff the guys took could be replaced. Luke and I were guilty of something way more damaging. Stealing trust. That wasn’t something you could pick up at Target or Best Buy. There was really nothing I could say to repair this, but I had to try.

“I’m sorry, Wren. I can’t change what I did, but it’s not who I am anymore. Not who I want to be. I’m not Mike Pearson. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation,” she said, shaking her head.

She opened the passenger-side door. I grabbed her elbow.

“Wren, please.”

She stared at my hand, then back up at me; the sadness in her eyes sent a shock wave through my body.

“I have to go,” she said, sliding away from me.

“Please don’t,” I whispered. She slammed the door, sending the air freshener spinning, wafts of cinnamon spreading through the car. She walked a few feet away, stopped, and came back, hand poised to open the door, but then she took off again.

I got out of the car. “Wren!”

She kept running, her hair a light brown wave behind her. I got back into the car, ready to put it in Drive, but stopped.

“You fucking idiot,” I cursed myself as I clutched the wheel. I’d confessed the short, pathetic half-life of Mike Pearson. It hadn’t felt good or cleansing or like any of that psychobabble parents and teachers feed you about how the truth shall set you free. It felt like shit.

When I put the car in Drive, I had no clue where I was headed. I thought of hitting Andy’s to see if anyone had known what Luke was up to but decided against it. What did it matter if they knew? The damage was done, and there was no way I wanted Luke to find out he’d gotten the best of me. Staying away was the perfect strategy, even though I wanted to track him down and kick the living shit out of him.

So I drove past the town limits and onto the turnpike. The sound of the wheels on the road became a tranquilizer. I wasn’t conscious of where I was heading; all I knew was that I wanted to drive—as if the simple act of getting away from Bayonne would let me leave my past behind. Which was a joke, because my past may as well have been sitting in the backseat, reminding me why I didn’t deserve Wren in my life.

This was all for the best, because clearly there was something wrong with me. I’d had every advantage I could possibly have had, and I threw them away in search of . . . what?

Nights of meaningless sex?

Extra Taco Bell cash?

A graduation trip to Amsterdam with my friends?

Why had I gone to see Allegra? To prove to Luke I was willing to fight for what I wanted? Wren did not deserve to be in the middle of this. Who was I kidding? She wasn’t in the middle anymore. She was gone. And that had been Luke’s goal all along. Wren was right—he did have some sort of power over me.

When I pulled off at the Darien exit, I was almost surprised. Was this really where I wanted to be? I parked on the street outside my mother’s and grabbed the bin of Christmas ornaments from my trunk.