Someone Like You (Blue Club Books) Read online

  Someone Like You

  Robin Hart

  Published by Robin Hart.

  Copyright 2012. Robin Hart.

  ISBN: 978-0-9887948-1-0

  Cover design: Christine Ko, Background: istockphoto/airportrait

  Formatting: Jason G. Anderson

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Nicole sat on her bed, staring at old, mottled brown carpet. Today was the day she would get away, and yet, the day she would leave everything behind. The faded posters left by her older sister, the small room with the small mirror and the small bed and the sagging mattress. Everything about her life here felt faded and dirty, and today was a new start, something fresh and clean in the distance.

  She took the worn pink handle of the suitcase that contained mostly everything in one hand, and the knotted top of a garbage bag that had the rest in the other. She stood tall and pulled her shoulders up against the weight of the bags. She would not walk out sagging, defeated, weak. She moved through the dark, empty hall, into the lighter family room, into the small foyer that was streaked with light from the front door windows. She looked outside through the glass for a moment, turned back to the house, looked around it. It was empty and she was glad of it. No one here to make this messy, no one to try to force her to stay. She turned around, set down the garbage bag to open the door, closed her eyes long enough to breathe deeply in, and walked out into the sun.

  Her aunt wasn’t here yet, but a dark haired boy sitting dejectedly on the curb was. Sean turned and ran to the porch to help her with her bags.

  “When does your aunt get here?” He asked, heaving the garbage bag over his shoulder in a comical way and swaying beneath it towards the curb again. Sean was shorter than her, always had been. A crybaby too.

  “Five.” She said, letting the suitcase fall on its side as Sean heaved his load next to it.

  They sat together for a moment. Sean looked at his watch. 4:48. Winds rustled the trees along the street and blew a musty, nostalgic smell towards them. The smell of something ending, the smell of dead leaves and new grass and mountain air filtered through a city suburb.

  “I’ll miss you.” Sean said. 4:50.

  “I’ll miss you too.” She put a hand up to ruffle his hair and pulled him against her. They were just two years apart, but how was this big crybaby going to get along without her?

  The big crybaby was wondering the same thing, but for different reasons. Sean knew that he would be fine at school. Sad. But fine. But she was leaving. He had failed her. He had failed to help her be happy here. To be safe here. He just wasn’t big enough, or old enough. He didn’t have the power to keep the smile on her face. So she would have to leave and take the smile from his. He knew she was leaving because something was bad here, something she’d never shared with him at their secret tree house which was really just a tree, or on their walks by the creek, or during the long recesses where they imagined they were heroes, her the lead, him the sidekick. He wished, just now at least, that he could know what was wrong, before she left. To be trusted. But it was too late.

  “Promise you’ll write.” He said, pulling a crumply envelope from his pocket. “This is my address, promise you won’t lose it.”

  “I promise.” She said, taking it and looking at it for a moment before putting it in her own pocket.

  “You lose everything.” He said.

  “I know.” She laughed. “I like messes.”

  He groaned and put his face in his arms so she wouldn’t see him if he cried.

  “Don’t cry, you big baby.” She said, pulling his hands away. She jumped up. “I know!”

  She went to her suitcase, unzipped it, and rummaged around. Sean looked over and could see it was a complete mess. She still couldn’t fold or organize anything.

  “Here, write it on me.” She said, holding out her inner forearm.

  “Really?” He asked, taking the pen. “Are you sure? This is permanent.”

  “I know.” She said, beaming. “That way it won’t wash off.”

  “Oh.” He said. “True.” He leaned forward and wrote the address and phone number on her arm, trying not to blush at the awkward touching between them. He was eleven and she was thirteen, and it was just beginning to occur to both of them that one was a boy and one was a girl and sometimes things get weird when it’s that way between friends.

  “It won’t wash off easily, but it will wash off.” He said. “So you still need to remember to put the address somewhere safe. Tell your aunt it’s important, okay?”

  “I will.” She said, looking up to see a car in the distance that seemed to be headed towards them.

  “Is that her?” He asked. He looked in the same direction and shielded his eyes.

  “I think so.” Nicole stood, too. This was it. She put her arms out for an awkward hug, and Sean stepped forward.

  “Don’t go.” He said, wrapping his arms around hers as if he could make her stay.

  “I have to.” She said. “But we’ll always be friends.”

  “Unless you lose my address.” Sean said into her shoulder.

  “Listen to me.” She said, pulling him back, looking him in the eyes. “I’m never going to lose this address.” She held out her arm. “I won’t shower for days, no matter what I get beaten with, if I have to, to keep it from washing off. I’m going to memorize it.”

  He winced at the word ‘beat’ and her casualness about it, but finally smiled at her. “You are crazy.”

  “You know it.” She said. “I’ll write soon.”

  “You had better.” He reached out a hand, and she shook it. He resisted the urge to hold it for a moment longer, and bent to help with the bag.

  “I can get them.” She said. “I’ll go on my own.”

  He frowned.

  “You stay here and watch me.” She said. “I’ll feel special having my own goodbye party waving to me.”

  “I’d rather meet your aunt and tell her to remind you to write me and not lose my address.”

  “You worry wart.” She said. “She’s going to want to just go. I don’t want her to change her mind if I take too long. It’s easier to just leave you here, than say goodbye again at the car.”

  “Okay.” He said. “If it’s easier for you.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see you around.”

  “I’ll write.” He said.

  “I’ll miss you. I-uh, I love you Sean, don’t forget it.”

  “I love you too. You’re my best friend.”

  “You’re mine.”

  He jumped forward to hug her one last time, but let her go when she almost dropped the bags. Then he stepped back.

  “I’ll be here waving.”

  “Great.”

  And that’s what he did, before turning and walking home more slowly than ever before.

  Four Years Later

  Sean sat on his bed looking up at his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle posters on his ceiling, imagining himself as a superhero. Someone that swooped in and saved Nicole from bad guys. Guys like the one in her most recent letter, whic
h sat crumpled beside him on the bed. He felt stirred up with anger, with testosterone, in that impotent, can’t do anything with it, fifteen-year-old way. Not old enough to drive, not old enough to have a job, not one that would make real money anyway, the kind that made girls happy. Just old enough to be in the prime of wanting with an inability to achieve.

  Sean,

  Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written. I love your letters though, thanks for sending them. I promise we’ll have a phone call someday. My aunt is touchy about long distance and she says writing is good for you anyway. I guess she would know she writes all the time.

  Can you guess what? I’ve got my very first boyfriend! Hard to imagine ugly old me with a boyfriend right?

  Sean rolled his eyes at the paper and read on.

  And he picked me. He’s one of the popular boys too. He plays football and normally he and his friends don’t talk to girls like me but ever since this year when my aunt insisted I started dressing like a girl, guys are acting different. And this guy, Jake, he came up to me while he was waiting for the bus. He said would I like to go out with him, and I said yes. He says we have to keep it secret for now though, which is okay with me! After all how jealous would the other girls be if they knew? They would probably just tease me worse. He said we should start kissing right away though. He wanted me to come get in his truck to go home, but I told him that I couldn’t. I know my aunt would be ashamed of me, going with a boy after school when I’m supposed to go home. I don’t want to kiss anyone yet either. He said he’ll wait at least a week, but after that he’ll probably dump me if I don’t. What should I do? This might be my only chance at a boyfriend.

  Anyway how are you doing crybaby? Still a weak little pansy or are you growing up? You’re fifteen now right? Crazy huh? How is school going? Have any girls caught your eye yet? If you ask someone out, don’t make her kiss you right away. Also, don’t make her keep it a secret it will make her feel bad. Are you still watching too many cartoons? What do you do in your free time? Jake does karate. I think it’s very manly. Not like someone like me needs protecting but it’s nice to know he could, you know?

  My teachers say I’m good at English. My aunt thinks I should be a writer, like her of course. What do they even do?

  I miss you. I guess you never have a best friend like your first. Remember how scared you were I would lose your address? Here we are four years later. Well I don’t have anything else to say. I love you.

  Yours,

  Nicole

  Sean went to his desk, opened the top drawer and took out his notepad, he propped his pillow up against the headboard just right and started to write.

  Dear Nicole,

  I am doing fine. In my spare time I do lots of karate, probably way more than Jake. I still watch a lot of cartoons. I’m not sure how many is too much. I miss you too. You are still my best friend, though I haven’t seen you in so long or talked to you. I think you would be a good writer because you make things up in your head all the time. Maybe like Stephen King, cuz you are scary. Just kidding!

  I don’t want to be mean but this boyfriend doesn’t sound like a good boyfriend. Why can’t you tell people you are dating? He should be proud to be your boyfriend. You are not ugly you are great. Don’t kiss him. Boys only want one thing at our age (yes we are both teenagers now so you can’t call me crybaby anymore), and that’s not just kissing. But if he wants to kiss you he wants to do other things and it’s not good that he wants this fast and will dump you if you don’t. I know you are rolling your eyes right now and calling me goody two shoes but it’s true. He doesn’t sound like a good person. You are a good person. Don’t sell yourself short, as my mom would say. She would also ask how ‘that ragamuffin’ is doing. I’m glad your aunt has you writing but I wish we could talk. Even though I would be nervous that we wouldn’t know what to talk about after so long. Four years is like forever.

  You don’t have to have a boyfriend if you don’t want one. Who cares about those girls? My mom says that being popular in high school doesn’t mean anything later anyways, and that all the jocks will be working for nerds like me. We will see I guess. Write back sooner than last time. I miss you. Love,

  Sean.

  Sean read the letter over, folded it up, and went downstairs for a stamp and envelope. And to ask his mom to sign him up for Karate.

  Chapter 1: Decisions

  Nicole put away her book and lay back in bed. She turned off her bedside lamp to indulge her imagination for a few moments. She imagined she was under her soft covers in a tent in the arctic, that if she just looked out, she would see the moon and sky of stars. She pulled the quilts around her thankfully and pretended that they were her only protection from a frigid night, and that they were an even greater luxury than they were.

  She ran her hands over the top of the coverlet. The room she was in now was so different from anything she’d had as a kid. A nice apartment with drapes that matched the carpet, with a bed set in 600 count Egyptian cotton. What hadn’t changed was the floor littered with clothing, both clean and dirty. Dishes around on the bed tables and even next to the bed, waiting to be carried to the kitchen, which she tried to remember to do everyday, but sometimes forgot. Sometimes she only realized she’d forgotten when a stale smell started to permeate the room, and even then only if it was strong enough to be bothersome before it faded when she became accustomed to it. The last thing to manage that had been a moldy grapefruit. A few months before that she had discovered Kool-aid could grow mold. Her aunt had said it was fine to leave out, it was just sugar. But she must not have meant for 18 days, because that was how long it took to grow mold. Nicole had left it out just to test her Aunt’s confidence in it.

  Thanks to her last book, things were pretty good, money wise. Romance wise, not so much. She sat up a bit, clicked on the lamp and looked across to her dresser mirror, which she had placed across from her bed, in case she ever needed to wake up and make sure she was herself. She stared at the strange girl who looked back at her, trying to find the source of her guy issues.

  How did she always end up with losers? She remembered her first ‘boyfriend’, who’d dumped her after she’d wanted to wait, but not before trying to rape her first. She winced. Sean had warned her about that, hadn’t he?

  Sean. It had been so long. Thirteen years since she’d seen him. And he was stuck in the Stone Age and didn’t have a Facebook. She couldn’t even convince him that a webpage would help his dojang. And they still only emailed. She wondered what he would have grown up to look like. Maybe he was cute now. Probably not. Probably short, still dark, thin, maybe with glasses to complete the nerd image. But he would be nice, he would treat women in his life right. Exactly the type of guy that would never match up with her. He would find a short girl, with blonde hair to her waist, whose only dream was to be a homemaker. Yeah that’s what he deserved.

  She leaned over to grab her laptop off the bedside table. She opened it and went straight to her email. She wanted to read something from Sean, maybe all the emails from Sean. He’d always tried to lecture her on her problems with wanting the wrong men. Seemed like a lot of women did, from Sean’s relative lack of success with women. She couldn’t figure out if he just wasn’t trying or if he was just hiding from her that he got rejected a lot. She looked through the emails and clicked the most recent one open. She’d told him about Kylie, the recent douche of the month. Of course Kylie hadn’t seemed like a douche at first, with his sweet grin and his way of sweeping her up in his arms for a hug. But then he’d needed to borrow money. And then he needed a place to stay, and she may have helped him find one and put up rent for it. And he’d even been able to put up with her aversion to sex. But she soon discovered it was only because he was doing his neighbor on the side. That had been unpleasant. Out came the Banshee.

  “What did you expect?” He had yelled, angry that she’d interrupted his tryst and sent his neighbor scampering out. “You thought someone like me would date someone l
ike you, and agree to not have sex, and we would be exclusive? You’re crazy. Get out.”

  She’d wanted her rent money back but she had scooted. She knew it was just another case of Sean being right, of her aunt being right, of everyone being right about her blindness but no one offering the cure to it. She’d tried reading books, like “He’s Just Not That Into You”, but they didn’t fit. The douches were into her. It was like they could just identify her and pick her out of a crowd as someone they could take advantage of. If she were a more self-aware person, she would probably be able to trace it back to her dad in some way. She wondered if she should go to therapy, but it seemed so dumb to pay someone to talk to you, when you could talk to yourself for free.

  She exited out of the folder of Sean’s emails (which was like it’s own little world, like her secret meeting place with an imaginary friend who no one else saw) and checked her new mail. She groaned.

  Another invite that required a date. Another wedding. She was a magnet for douche bags and knew she could find a date if she wanted to. But she was so sick of it she could swear off dating forever if not for the endless events that required you to be with someone. Even if they didn’t require you to be with someone, going alone meant that you were the awkward person that people felt free to hook up with strange men, and strange men felt free to hook up with. Which made her nervous. Some douche bags were better at playing the long game, and tricking her and breaking her heart. Others went for the home run as soon as possible, groping and handling. Maybe they all knew what had happened to her. Could see the broken and warped parts of her that would mesh with the broken parts of them, with her always coming out on the bottom.

  What to do about this wedding though? There would be more. Her high school friends were starting to settle down, starting to move on, without her. And she owed the ones who’d been kind to her support in return. And she owed the witches that were not her friends but still showed up because that mutual friend was nice to everyone the sight of her with nice clothes and a hot man on her arm. But she was tired of paying the price for that. If only you could just hire a date.