After Happily Ever After
By Tinsadisaster
Summary: First crushes last forever. Juli & Bryce.
Author's Note:
I've known about Flipped for a while; I distinctly remember seeing the cover of the novel even before the movie came out. However, I never picked up the book and read it. After seeing the movie several times and falling in absolute love with the characters, I just had to get this out of my system.
This fanfiction is based on the movie, because I haven't read the book yet. I apologize for any mistakes.
And so it begins.
Part I: Back To You
You could say I'm a lucky girl.
My mother and father are hardworking but they love each other. My loving older brothers are dreamers, but they made sure to have at least one foot planted on the ground. And I met the love of my life when I was in the second grade.
My infatuation with Bryce Loski started the day his family moved into the house across from mine. I watched the house for months, wondering when they would arrive. And when they did, my world was literally flipped.
I was expecting to meet a new friend, but little did I know, I would meet the one that day.
It was something about those eyes, those mesmerizing eyes. When our hands accidentally gripped onto each other, I recall seeing his dazzling smile. Bryce recalls feelings of terror, but I prefer to believe in my version of the encounter.
It would be years later before we held hands again, but the important thing is that it happened. It was after the whole basket boy, almost-first-kiss, and ignore-Bryce-forever dilemma.
I walked into the living room with an intention to start reading The Wuthering Heights, but a noise in the front yard caught my attention. Bryce Loski was digging a hole in my perfectly maintained lawn. My father hid behind his newspaper, ignoring my prying questions and smiling mysteriously.
"I gave him permission, Juli," he said matter-of-factly.
I stared furiously out the window… until I saw Bryce carrying a tree.
My father laughed and smiled to himself while I stood looking out the window in total awe.
I dropped my book and walked to the front door in a haze. Something bubbly and warm was building within me. Every inch of my body felt so alive.
My vision blurred at the edges, though I wasn't crying.
I gulped and asked him if he needed any help. He smiled in the way that made my stomach do flips like a gymnast. I fell on my knees and started scooping and patting dirt to cover the trunk of the baby sycamore tree.
Our hands grazed, and then finally, he purposely held onto my hand. He looked at me with those soul-stirring eyes and smiled. I fought my hardest not to pass out from sheer happiness.
"I like you, Juli Baker," he said. I blushed.
"And I you, Bryce Loski… but you already knew that, didn't you?"
With that witty response, our love story truly began. The next day at school, though we did not hold hands in public, everyone knew that the impossible had happened: Juli Baker and Bryce Loski were an item. Sherry Stalls was particularly catty that day and went home early.
We were together during junior high and high school. We grew up as individuals and as a couple. We experienced the highest highs and lowest lows. We fought and we made up. There were nights when he held me in his arms and I felt like nothing would change how we felt about each other. There were also nights when I felt like I wanted us to change – because of those curious whispering thoughts about what life would be without him.
These things are expected. The whole magic of a love story is that despite the villains and impossible obstacles, the characters end up together in the end. Our love story fit those standards.
What I never expected was the reality of life and how easily what we had turned into something that we lost.
We graduated from high school and attended different colleges. We tried, but the distance strained our relationship. Eventually, it became too much. We stopped growing together and started growing apart. It felt like we were holding each other back from what we each wanted to become. After a long and very painful phone call, we mutually decided it was best to let our story end.
Just like the first time I tried to quit Bryce Loski cold turkey, I was miserable and questioned myself. We had our moments here and there, months after the break up, but the cold hard truth hit us both in the face: what we had was gone and what we held onto was toxic. So a year later, we permanently called it quits.
When he walked away from me, he threw me one last look over his shoulder. In a split second, I imagined his sixth grade self: lean, innocent, handsome, and dreamy. I blinked and my vision cleared. All I could see now was the love of my life, his grown up version, walking out of my life, again.
I lost our photos, threw away the diaries full of pages regarding him, and stopped listening to the songs that reminded me of him.
We grew older. We grew up and lived separate lives. We loved other people, but despite all of this, he always managed to creep into my thoughts as the boy I fell in love with.
I was lounging at my home in San Francisco when I saw the big red reminder on my calendar. In the rush of living on my own and having to provide for myself, I had forgotten about the anniversary of Chet's death.
I met Chet because of Bryce. I was in the sixth grade. Bryce told me that he was embarrassed by our front yard so naturally I had to change it. I was thrashing the bushes in our front yard with a pair of garden scissors that my father found in our garage. They were rusty, tiny, and annoying.
Chet offered his help. Within a few weeks, our lawn improved physically and I learned about his interesting life and love. I blushed when he said I reminded him of his wife. I was a young girl and had no idea what to say in response to that so I just smiled.
Even after Bryce and I got close, I spent time with Chet. He symbolically "adopted" me as his granddaughter and in return, I gained a mentor and friend. Whenever I was confused or enraged about Bryce or life in general, I ran to him. He always seemed to have the most reasonable answers.
During our senior year, Chet's health deteriorated quickly and he died, after years of feeling weak. Bryce had difficulty dealing with this loss because he had grown very close to his grandfather after we got together, much to the dismay of his bitter father. I almost tore my hair out trying to make Bryce feel normal again while dealing with my own grief. For the next few years, we visited Chet's grave together on the anniversary of his death.
After we separated, we visited Chet on our own. Every year, I go back to the place I used to call home, to visit Chet and to update him on my life. I've never bumped into Bryce or his family members, but this was insignificant to me. That part of my life, as glorious as it was, is over.
Whenever I pass through that city, I also always drive by the house I used to live in. My family moved away while I was in my last years of college. My eyes instantly search for that sycamore tree, the one I planted with the love of my life when I was a young girl.
I don't feel sad when I see this monument. I choose to see it as reminder that good things happen to those who wait and that I am lucky to have experienced what I have.
When I drive away, I imagine my younger self sitting under the shade of that tree. Sometimes I picture some version of Bryce sitting with me, holding my hand, but most times, I just see myself, as it is and should be.
I feel something furry rub against my leg and I'm taken out of my reverie. I look down to see my furball of a cat staring curiously at me with his eerie green eyes.
"Well, Heathcliff, I think it's that time of year again. Time to visit Chet and the old stomping grounds."
Heathcliff quirked his head to the side and meowed curiously before sulking away.
I look back to the calendar and try to shake the memories away, but I know that I can't.
Like I said, Bryce always creeps into my mind … but the million dollar question is if I find my way into his.
If Chet was alive, he would tell me, "Honey, some questions are left unanswered for a reason. Let go and let it be."
It doesn't stop me from wondering though. It never does. And secretly, I think that's the way I like it.