Page 6 of #Lovestrong
5
Lena
Grandpa's noise canceling headphones are in my purse and I'm hoping to find somewhere to sit, preferably alone, where I can't feel the impact of the fireworks. He and Grandma will be busy with their Independence Day themed cakes, cookies, and drinks. They said I could stay with them for the festivities, but I'd rather find somewhere to be alone. I'm in no mood to celebrate.
The whole lakeside strip is decked out in red, white, and blue. Every store hung banners and signs. Vendors crowd the street corners selling snowballs, mini-flags, glow-sticks, and other holiday themed toys.
The streets and riverbank are so crowded, it's hard to move anywhere. I hate crowds. Every time someone yells or sets off those little firecrackers, I jump a mile in my skin and my heart beats so fast I'm afraid it's going to come out of my chest. It's almost time for the show to start and I walk quickly, trying to get off the street. Not far ahead, there's a small alleyway kind of hidden off the main street. I walk faster, praying it's enough privacy to get through this. Grandpa's shop is right on the riverbank and being there will be worse.
Speed walking with my head down, the first firework is small but shakes the air. My breaths come in gasps and I slam into something solid, almost falling to the ground. Steadying myself before I fall, I look up into the bluest eyes I've ever seen. The boy I bumped into stares at me, wide-eyed, with a concerned look on his face.
"Are you okay?" he says in a deep voice.
He towers over me with broad shoulders and a thick build. His hair is dirty blond, short on the sides and slightly longer on top. He's wearing dark jeans and a light blue, short sleeve button-down that's open with a white undershirt underneath.
"I'm fine. Sorry," I say as another firework goes off. I duck and look out over the water, all my nerves urging me to run.
"Hey," he yells as I push past him and sprint to the alley.
Moving here was supposed to help. This isn't helping. Nothing will. I just want to be somewhere quiet with enough sleeping meds that I can't dream about anything. Lately, it wouldn't even bother me if I didn't wake up the next day.
I don't understand why I'm alive when Cameron and Camilla aren't. I'll never understand. Camilla never did anything to anyone, especially not Peter. She never made fun of him, never rejected him, never even spoke more than a few words to him after seventh grade.
And Cameron, he used to stand up for kids like Peter. He was always the guy who didn't let his jock friends bully others. Even if they were his friends, he never shied away from telling someone they were an asshole and needed to apologize for whatever ignorant thing they did or said.
He'd even stood up for Peter.
I'm the one who rejected him. I'm the one who sent him off the deep end. So why am I here and they're not? It should've been me. It should be me. I should be dead, not them.
Sinking down to my bottom, I pull my knees to my chest and yank the headphones out of my purse. Slamming them down over my ears just before the next firework goes off, I shake as the building behind me and the air around me vibrates with the explosion.
I squeeze my eyes closed as tears stream down my face, the vibrations happening every few seconds. The coppery taste of blood hits my tongue as I bite my lip, trying not to scream. I press my hands into the sides of the headphones, trying to block out the noise, the memories, and the pain.
Stop. BOOM!
Stop. Stop. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
God, please stop.