Devon

Devon felt twitchy and hollow as he drove himself to school Friday morning. The headmaster had sent a note home to Cara requesting Devon show up for final exams today if he wanted to be eligible for graduation. Apparently, even Eddington thought Devon should be done mourning by now.

He hadn’t kept up with any of his course work even though Zander had been bringing it home. Devon didn’t see the point in returning to Eddington. His fate was sealed. He didn’t need a diploma to be chained to his father’s company for the rest of his life. He tried arguing with Cara about it, but she told him attendance today was mandatory and threatened to have Thorton drive him to Eddington if Devon wouldn’t do it himself.

Devon gave in. At least if he drove himself he could leave as soon as exams were over, or maybe even sneak out early. Once Devon pulled onto campus he knew he’d made a mistake. He should’ve taken a different car. Everyone recognized his Defender and a group of girls were already pointing and whispering.

He sighed and took another sip of liquid courage in the form of his father’s best whiskey. It would take all the strength Devon had left to get out of his car. One sip wasn’t enough. It didn’t even keep his hands from shaking anymore. If anything, the whiskey just made his pounding headache even worse.

Devon waited until the bell rang and the parking lot was empty before heading inside. He shielded his eyes from the bright morning light when he got out of the car. He hadn’t been outside much these days and he’d stupidly forgotten his sunglasses. He glowered up at the cloudless sky. It was a rare blue-sky morning, just like it had been on the last morning he’d spent with Sam. A flicker of anger for everything he’d lost flared up within Devon’s chest as he thought about that day—the day everything he loved had been stolen from him.

Why? Why had he been given those few short hours of bliss if it was all going to be taken away? He’d rather have had nothing at all, than been left with an ashen husk where his heart used to be.

Devon glared up at the bright sky in disgust and shook his head.

Even the sun is against me, he thought as he trudged toward the school, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.

* * *

Devon was surprised he was still standing by lunch. He’d bombed his first exam and skipped the second one because he knew Sam would be there. Instead he hid in the lavatory and drank the rest of his father’s whiskey.

He hadn’t even meant to go to lunch, but somehow he ended up in the cafeteria by habit. It was like his body was just going though the motions.

Devon was following the flow of students filing past rows of tables in a trance until something vivid caught his attention. Laughter. But not just any laughter—Sam’s laughter. Devon honed in on the sound, his feet carrying him toward it. But what he saw stopped him dead. He was a boulder in a stream—students parting on either side to get by him, jostling him in the process. But all the while, Devon stood stone still and watched Sam—his Sam—laughing with Zander.

And then, he broke.

The last remaining thread that had been holding Devon together finally frayed beyond repair. And when it snapped, Devon lunged.

Sam

Sam was standing next to Zander’s lunch table, which consisted of half the boys’ soccer team. She was listening to him talk animatedly about plans for Grad night. Ever since she told him she wanted to go, he hadn’t stopped talking about it.

“Maybe I can get us a limo or something,” Zander mused.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. We’re just going as friends.”

“Of course, but if you’re really leaving us, then we have to send you off with a bang. Ya know, something to remember us Micks by. Am I right, mates?”

Sam laughed as Zander’s teammates boisterously agreed.

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving us, Boston,” Zander exclaimed over the ruckus.

“Yeah, it’s time.”

“Ah, well. Save your goodbyes until tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said handing Sam a ticket to the Grad Ball. “Good luck on the rest of your exams.”

Sam was about to wish him the same when someone slammed into Zander from behind, smashing him into his lunch table. She screamed and stumbled backwards to avoid getting clipped by the flailing limbs. When she regained her balance she realized it wasn’t someone—it was Devon!

She yelled his name and tried to get to him, but Devon was being attacked by three huge boys from the soccer team. That should have stopped Sam, but it didn’t. All she could think of was getting to him. This was the first time she was seeing Devon and there was definitely something wrong. He looked thinner and his eyes were wild with sunken blue shadows beneath them.

Devon had Zander pinned to the lunch table and refused to let him go even though Sean Dougherty had Devon in a headlock. Sam tried to get through to Devon, but he was screaming profanities at Zander through clenched teeth and saliva.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from her!” Devon screamed. “I told you—”

“Devon!” Sam screamed. It was like he didn’t even see her.

Terror gripped Sam as she helplessly watched Devon struggle. He didn’t look familiar at all. This wasn’t her Devon. This Devon looked like he escaped a psych ward. She didn’t know what to do, but if she didn’t get his attention soon he was probably going to pass out. His face was turning violent shades of red as Dougherty tightened his chokehold.

Sam did the first thing that came to her. She grabbed a nearby lunch tray and slammed it as hard as she could onto the table next to Devon and Zander. It worked. Food sprayed across the boys and the deafening crack of the tray startled Devon enough that he looked at her. As soon as their eyes met he let go of Zander. He slumped in Dougherty’s arms, his frightened gray eyes closing.

* * *

Sam was sitting in the nurse’s office waiting for Devon to wake up. The nurse told her he was fine, sadly, just intoxicated and disorientated. She’d cleaned him up and let him lay down in the back. Then, after Sam had sobbed for twenty minutes in the waiting room, the nurse took pity on her.

“I’ve been young and in love too,” the nurse said. “Go sit with Mr. James until he wakes up. But don’t let me catch ya getting flirty back there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Currently, Sam was holding Devon’s hand, stroking the calloused underside of his long fingers. She noticed the knuckles of his right hand were covered in cuts and bruises. She noticed a lot of new bruises on him as tears filled her eyes. She barely recognized the boy in front of her. How could she have let this happen to him?

She was so angry with herself for not being there for Devon. She shouldn’t have let him push her away no matter what he said. She knew how bad he was hurting. The bruises on the outside were nothing compared to how he must be hurting on the inside.

Sam brought his hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle. She couldn’t stop crying and her tears splashed his hand, leaving a splotchy trail down his wrist. He finally began to stir and she leaned over him, stroking the side of his face and whispering to him. “Shhh, you’re okay, Devon. I’m right here. It’s Sam.”

He looked up at her with confusion. “Sam?”

She smiled and let out a bottled up breath. God, it was so good to hear his voice. “Yes,” she whispered, bending to kiss both his cheeks.

“Sam?” he asked again.

“Yes, Devon. It’s me.”

She hugged him, laying her head on his chest. He hesitantly put one arm around her and held her against him. Sam breathed in deeply. He smelled more like whiskey than himself, but still, he was here. Her Devon was still here. She could feel him underneath the pain as she listened to his heart hammering in her ear.

Suddenly, he stiffened and she lifted her head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

He just shook his head and tried to push her away.

“Devon . . .”

“No, Sam. Don’t.” He pushed himself up so he was sitting. “I-I can’t do this, right now.”

“Do what?”

“You! Us! This! I can’t even look at you.”

His words left shrapnel in her heart. “Why?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes again.

“Because it hurts! Everything hurts, Sam.”

“I know, Devon. I promise you I know how bad it hurts, and that’s why you need to let me help you.”

“I can’t,” he muttered swinging his legs over the bed and grabbing for his shoes.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I know you’re hurting right now, Devon. But please don’t push me away.”

“Leave me alone, Sam.”

“Stop!” She yelled. Devon finally turned and looked at her. “I know this sucks, but that doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole. I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help, Sam.”

“Look at yourself,” she yelled. “You clearly do.”

He scowled at her. “Oh, and how are you gonna help me, Sam? Flirting with Zander? Going out with him? Is that your idea of helping me?”

“No-I-I wasn’t flirting with him. We’re friends.”

“Friends that go out to dances and pubs? I know how your friend-rules work.”

“That’s not fair, Devon.”

“You’re not going with him, Sam. He’s no good for you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh and you are?”

“I’m a hell of a lot better than that wanker.”

“Maybe you used to be. But right now I don’t even know who you are.”

He laughed, but it sounded wrong, desperate. “Then why don’t you just forget about me like everyone else.”

“Because, I don’t want to! Because I care about you, Devon. But you have to let me in,” she pleaded.

He turned his back on her. “Sam, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from me.”

“But—”

“Sam! I’m trying so hard not to hurt you. Please, I just can’t do this right now.”

“If you don’t want to hurt me, stop pushing me away!”

“Sam, look at me. I’m a fucking mess. And if I let you in I’ll ruin you too. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Well you’re not! All you’re doing is hurting us both.”

“Maybe I am. But I just need more time, Sam. Is that so much to ask?”

“No,” she said quietly.

Devon looked at her. He was standing across the room, fully dressed, opening and closing his fists, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. She hated seeing him like this. He looked so pained and drawn. It was like a parasite was eating him from the inside out, feeding on his pain and suffering.

“I won’t go out with Zander if you don’t want me to,” she offered.

Devon let out a rattling laugh. “I don’t care what you do, Sam. But you should know, Zander’s just using you to hurt me.”

Pain seared through her tattered heart. How could he be so cruel? Just because he didn’t want her anymore didn’t mean no one else would. “Really? Because the way I see it, you’re the only one who’s hurting me.”

Devon

Devon watched Sam’s face harden. He’d finally done it. He’d finally pushed her far enough. He could almost see her mind snap shut as she straightened her spine and walked away from him, slamming the door on her way out.

Once the door was shut, Devon sank to his knees and thought of all the things he wished he could say to her. But wishing wasn’t enough.

He’d done the right thing letting Sam go—even if it killed him. He knew it was better this way. He couldn’t ask her to love him when he was like this—so full of hurt and anger. This way he couldn’t poison her with his hate. Even though a tiny voice rose up in him, whispering, but maybe you love her more than you hate everything else.

Devon scrubbed his hands over his face trying to push the thought away. No matter what he felt for Sam, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough for her. And he never would be. She deserved so much better.

Devon signed himself out of the nurse’s office and left campus. He didn’t care about his exams. There was no way he would pass them in the state he was in anyway. He drove home and snuck into his own house. He knew Cara would have a fit if she caught him home this early. She’d probably make Thorton drive him back to Eddington and tie him to a desk. Devon stopped outside the door to his room. He didn’t want to go back in there. Everything was destroyed in his room. But Devon was beginning to realize that everything was destroyed no matter where he went.

He pushed the door open and sunk onto his bed, wishing for the black numbness of sleep to carry him away.