A/N: This is the depressing chapter I warned you about. There are a few more to come, but I promise that the story will become more uplifting as it progresses. TW for mentions of toxic relationships.

RIP to Dawn Wells, who played Mary Ann on Gilligan's Island and just passed away from COVID-19. Please, please stay safe everyone. Not just for yourself, but for your older relatives, too.

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We accept the love we think we deserve.

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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November 9, 1965

Things were getting better. I hadn't been wrong. I'd gotten happier-my grades had improved, I was smiling again, and even Coach Brewster had stopped eyeing me sternly after every routine I took part in at practice. But things suddenly took a nosedive once what should have been Bob's eighteenth birthday rolled around.

This was just a setback, I thought to myself after cheer practice ended that Tuesday afternoon. I'd make the drive down to the cemetery, pay him a visit, and then everything would go back to normal. I felt like I owed it to him. I hadn't gone back there in months, not since he'd been buried. I couldn't bring myself to it, no matter how much I wanted to. And, once again, I was in it alone. Randy and Marcia had wanted me to come along with them, but I'd shaken my head and told them no. I needed to be there myself. And I didn't have the nerve to invite Soda, not after everything Bob had done to hurt him.

It sounded so messed up. Who was I, sitting in my car on a frigid November evening, still desperately in love with a boy who had hurt so many people? I'd known a different Bob than the boys on the east side. The Bob I'd known had been sweet, charismatic, a good guy, who had told me he loved me when no one else had. I'd loved a boy with a problem I'd tried so hard and still failed to fix. I doubted he'd been sober enough to remember what he'd done to Johnny Cade. I'd had no idea. That feeling I'd had when I'd heard Ponyboy describe it to me had been the worst I'd ever felt. I wasn't sure where we'd be if I'd had more time with him.

So what the hell was I doing here?

I'd put off visiting him the whole day. I'd already eaten dinner; or rather, my family had eaten dinner while I'd just picked at my mother's lamb chops and pretended everything was alright. But now, the sky was darkening, the stars were beginning to appear, and I knew I didn't have much time left to spend with him. I picked up the bouquet of grocery store daffodils Scott had taken me to buy after school and closed the door to my car. This would be quick. Quick and quiet.

His headstone was in the back, well-loved and adorned with flowers from his earlier visitors. His mother came every Friday night, when her son should have been playing football with his friends, and I heard Randy mention stopping by every once in a while. I was too much of a coward to even consider it.

Checking to see that no one was nearby, I knelt down on the cold, damp ground. The wet grass stained the bare knees I hadn't bothered to cover with stockings. I wasn't quite sure where to begin. I leaned the bouquet against the stone cold rock, took a deep breath, and in spite of myself, began to cry before I could even choke out a single word.

The two of us had just begun to know each other. Our three months had been the best of my life. I'd fallen in love with him fast, since we'd had double the time to spend together. Not a day went by that summer where I hadn't heard his voice. But autumn had come all too soon, and summer had taken him with it when the first leaf had fallen.

I didn't cry for what we'd had. I cried for what we'd missed. There would be no homecoming dances, no mistletoes at Christmas, no senior proms, no high school graduations, and no more summer breaks spent under the sun. Nothing but the memories we'd made together were left of him. And someday, I'd lose them, too.

Wiping my eyes on the sleeves of my ski jacket, I fought to regain my composure. "Well," I began, my voice shaking. "Happy eighteenth, Bob. I wish I could be spending it with you."

I hadn't been waiting for a response, but I cried even more when one didn't come. I couldn't help but wonder about what we'd be doing if things had been different. I'd be over at his place, sitting at the dinner table with his parents, maybe having cube steak-his favorite. His mother would have her old smile on her face, and no tears in her eyes, and his father would have all his black hair again, instead of the gray that had begun to grow in the week after he'd lost his son. Ricky would be laughing and clinging to my leg. I loved the kid, almost as much as I loved his big brother.

After dinner, the two of us would share a slice of chocolate cake. He'd open up the photo album I'd made him, or the watch I'd saved up for just because I knew it'd make him happy, thank me profusely, and kiss me when his mother wasn't watching. I'd be wearing his ring around my neck, just like I had been for the past couple of days. He'd follow me out to the car when it was time to go and promise to see me at school tomorrow morning.

It would be one of the good nights. Those had started to become more and more scarce as the summer had come to an end. But we'd have had this one. I needed to believe at least that.

But what about the things he'd done that made me sick hearing, or even thinking, about? I'd been able to push those away lately, and only remember the nice things. I couldn't ignore them now, though. Not when he was right in front of me.

I loved him when he was sober. I hated him when he was drunk. I hated the things he said to me, hated the way he treated other people, hated how unpredictable he could be. And I hated thinking about it, too. I couldn't stand fighting with him. He was supposed to be the perfect guy for me-the varsity quarterback, an honors student, charming and handsome and all the things other people admired. My parents were supposed to like him. And he wasn't supposed to get into trouble.

Fortunately for me, I didn't have to think about them for long. After a few minutes, I heard a voice, and footsteps behind me in the grass.

"Cherry?"
I stood up and turned around, startled, to see Mike standing there, a look of concern on his face. "Mike," I breathed, hoping my eyes weren't too red. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be seeing me like this. It's good you're here."

"I figured I'd come by," Mike replied. "None of the other guys did. Except for Randy, I mean. He told me earlier."

They were speaking again, I thought to myself. Thank God. Randy needed a friend-and I didn't mean Marcia or me. He'd said it himself-hanging out with the two of us wasn't the same as spending time with the other boys-and I was glad Mike was there for him.

"None of them?" I asked.

Mike nodded. "Yeah. They were all talking about going over to Rusty's later tonight, having a few beers, just like the good old days. Didn't say a single word about Bob." He sighed. "I've had a pretty rough couple of days, with quitting and all. It's a lot harder than I thought it'd be."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I told him. That was all I could really say. I paused, then asked, "Well, how are things with Susan?"

"I broke up with her, actually," Mike answered. My eyes widened. "Sunday night. I'd been considering doing it for a while."

"Mike, that's awful," I said. "I'm really sorry. What happened?"
Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he asked. I nodded. "She cheated on me. With Gary."

"Oh, they're meant for each other," I replied, shaking my head. I couldn't help myself. Mike laughed. "I mean, we already knew Gary was a cheater, too."

"Yeah, we did," he said. "First at football, now at this. I'm not even all that torn up about it, really. To be honest, I'm kind of relieved. I don't know how it went on for so long."

"Since April, right?" I asked. Seven months was a long time in high school.

"April," Mike repeated, chuckling. "Though it often felt like much longer than that."

Things had initially been awkward between Kathleen and Susan when Mike had first come into the picture. Looking back now, I noticed the relationship between the two of them had never been as amicable as it should have been. Not like the friendship I'd found in Marcia, or the one between Kathleen and Nancy. Maybe it wasn't me who had been the outsider of our little group.

Mike had caught Susan's eye around the end of our sophomore year. She'd asked Kathleen to see if he was interested in her, and she'd refused. It had caused sort of a rift in our friend group for a week or so. Nancy had taken Kathleen's side, saying it was completely understandable that she didn't want Susan to go out with her twin brother. Marcia had said that Susan couldn't help who she was interested in, and had told Kathleen to just leave it alone. She'd found the entire situation hilarious. I, for one, had been left wondering why the guy had to ask the girl out in the first place. I was perfectly capable of going up to a boy and asking him to catch a movie with me Friday or Saturday evening. But the only opportunity I had to do that was the Sadie Hawkins, which only came once a year. It was coming up pretty soon, actually. That was how Marcia and Randy had first gotten together.

In the end, Mike had found out about the situation from David and had asked Susan if she wanted to grab dinner one night. Kathleen hadn't spoken to either of them for a couple of days, but she'd eventually come around. It seemed so silly now-that these were the things we used to fight about. And that one had only lasted a week and a half. But Susan and Mike had pretty much been doomed right from the start.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mike," I said. "No one needs to go through that, especially not now."

Mike cocked his head to the side. "You sure say that a lot. Don't apologize. It isn't your fault."

I hadn't noticed that before. I was tempted to respond with another, "Sorry," but caught myself just in time. "I guess I do," I replied.

We stood there quietly for a minute. I hadn't yet run out of tears to cry. Mike glanced at me, then discreetly looked away. "Getting late," he remarked after a while. "I'd better head home."

"Same here," I sighed. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"I'll walk you back to your car, if you want," he offered. I nodded quickly, and the two of us made our way through the grass. There was a full moon tonight, almost eerily hanging in the sky above. My Stingray sat right by the curb. I opened the door and paused.

The moonlight glowed brightly in his hazel eyes, shining back at me in a way I'd never noticed before now. They were thoughtful eyes, specked with amber, and softer and gentler than I'd ever seen in someone like him. I'd always thought of him as reckless-immature and irresponsible. Strangely, the type of guy I somehow always ended up falling for. But his gaze was kind and caring. Maybe there really was a human being behind the persona he wore in front of his older friends, and the football team, and girls like me. I could have stopped and stared at him forever.

His breath froze mid-air, and I blinked.

What was wrong with me?

"Thanks, Mike," I said abruptly.

"No problem," he reassured me, hesitating the same way I had. "Have a good night."
He walked off, and I stepped into the car, wanting to kick myself in the shin. I started the engine and drove towards home.

I knew that I hadn't done anything wrong, but I still felt guilty. I hadn't looked at anyone like that for months. It would be a long time before I could without feeling awful about it.

And I hardly even knew Mike. And he'd just been cheated on. And I'd just lost Bob. We'd just lost Bob. I was still coming to terms with that, and I always would be. It wasn't something I could just get over. He'd been the first boy I'd genuinely loved. I couldn't imagine a time where I wouldn't be with him.

Then, I remembered all of the awful things he'd done and I hated myself for ignoring them. This had been happening every time I'd tried to think about him lately. So I avoided thinking about him in the first place. But I hated myself for doing that, too. I couldn't find a way around it. I'd stopped looking for one months ago.

I was relieved to see the lights were on when I parked my car on the side of the road. I'd hate to come home to an empty house. I'd been feeling lonely enough lately, and keeping myself company hadn't worked.

Unfortunately, things got worse as soon as I stepped foot in the foyer.
"What the hell is this?" my father demanded, shoving a sheet of paper towards me. His usually calm green eyes were fiery, and his face was almost crimson with rage. I froze.

My report card.

I'd never seen him so angry before. I closed the door as quietly as I could. "Harold, please go easy on her," my mother called to him, coming in from the living room.

They'd found it. I didn't know what to say to them. I was a complete disappointment-making my parents proud was just another thing I'd failed to do.

I came from a long line of doctors and lawyers, and I'd always dreamt of being a nurse one day. I'd always thought I'd go to Yale, too-so my parents had made it their goal to get me in. And now it was off the table, no matter what Marcia tried to tell me. I knew not going wasn't the end of the world. I'd just been stupidly treating it as my only option. I hadn't started applying yet, since I was still a junior, but we'd already looked into going up to Connecticut for a tour in the spring or summer. I didn't see that happening anymore. I liked to make decisions as soon as possible, so I had no idea what I was going to do now.

All my friends had already made their decisions, for the most part. Marcia was still undecided, but wanted to get as far away from Oklahoma as possible. She was currently looking for schools out in California. Randy was almost certainly headed to OU on that football scholarship. Nancy wanted to go to Yale, too, and I knew she could get in, if not me. Kathleen wanted to be a nurse, just like I did, but she'd been looking at Villanova, though she wanted to keep her options open. She had family out in Pennsylvania, and her father was an alumnus, just like mine. Susan had always wanted to go into law-the idea of someone like Susan as a lawyer was terrifying to me, but it was her dream job-so she was planning on applying to Harvard. Even I had to admit it-she could probably get in, since her father had been paying a lot of money to tutor her. And Scott already had his heart set on Ohio State-as a runner, he looked up to Jesse Owens, who had competed on their track team, and he was pretty sure he could get in. The odds were all in their favors-there was no doubt in my mind about any of them getting into where they wanted to go. I was the only one of us with nothing left to dream about.

"I can explain," I finally said, keeping myself as calm as I could manage. I was flustered, but showing my father that would just make him angrier. He never yelled at me like that. Ever.

"Oh, you'd better," my father replied, fuming. My mother stood beside him, either unable or simply unwilling to stand up for me. "How could you let this happen? This is serious!"

"I know it is," I told him. "I've been distracted, and things got out of hand, and I didn't know they were that bad! I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to!"
"Sorry doesn't cut it," he snapped. "Are you kidding me? This could affect college. This will affect college. How could you be so careless?"

"I'm not careless," I insisted, standing my ground. I had to stick up for myself, even if no one else would. I always had.

"Then explain this to me," my father retorted, starting to read off my report card. "C, C plus, C plus-"

"Harold!" my mother gasped, sounding shocked at him. I felt the same way.

"I don't want to hear it, Dorothy," he replied, brushing her off. He turned to me. "Not only did you let that happen, you also lied to us. You kept this a secret. How could you do that?"

I was leaning up against the door, trying to keep myself under control. But hearing that did it. Something snapped inside of me, and I knew I had to fight back.

"I had to!" I shouted. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I blinked to keep them from escaping. "I knew this would happen as soon as you found out about this! Go ahead and call me a failure! I don't care. I know I am one."

With that, I made my way past the two of them and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Neither of them cared enough to follow me. I slammed the door and sat down on my bed, wishing the day would just hurry up and end. It was among the worst I'd ever had, and that was really saying something.

I got angry a lot, but almost never with my parents, and certainly never like that. Ruled overwhelmingly by my own emotion, I had always had a fiery temper. I was usually very quick to stand up for myself, but I felt sorry about it later on. I didn't use my head; instead, I used my feelings to make choices, whether they were the right ones or not. And I couldn't help it.

When I didn't hear my father's footsteps ascending the staircase after a few minutes, I gave up hoping he would follow me up to try to work things out, much less to apologize. Our relationship was turbulent at worst, and distant and strained at best. I'd given up trying to have a closer one a long time ago. He had, too. We only really spoke at mealtimes, and even then it was nothing more than small talk. While it didn't upset me too much, the fact that my father and I barely knew each other, I couldn't help but look at most of my friends and their parents and be jealous of what they had. Marcia could talk to her parents about seemingly anything, and they'd be there for her. That was what I wanted most in the whole world, more than I'd ever wanted anything else.

Having cooled off a little, I took a deep breath and opened my bedroom door. I could see that the foyer was empty from the top of the stairs. My parents were speaking to each other in the living room. My mother was clearly trying to keep her voice hushed, but I could clearly hear every word my father was saying, and each one of them hurt more than the last.

"I'm going for a drive," I huffed, heading downstairs. I needed to get out for a while before I got angry again. Losing control of myself was one of my biggest fears.

"Oh, no you're not-" my father started, standing up from the sofa.

"Harold, please just give her a break," my mother cut him off. His face flushed a light shade of pink, the same color as the walls of my bedroom I'd painted back in third grade. She turned away from him, and towards me looking surprised at herself. "Be back by nine thirty, alright? You've got school tomorrow."
It was only eight o'clock. I nodded and made my way back towards the car. I did this after long days, or fights with my parents or Bob-just got in the front seat and drove around until I forgot what I was angry about.

Lonely as I'd ever been, I started up the engine and sped off to wherever the road led me to.

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A/N: I would like to appreciate the chaotic ENFJ energy in this chapter. I'm nothing like that in real life (INFP-T, in case you were wondering), but I tried my best.

This chapter really was a downer, wasn't it? The next one will be sad, too. Things will get better by December (but then they'll get worse again). This isn't going to be a feel-good story, but you probably expected that from a story called The Aftermath.

Also, I've changed one tiny detail from the sequel. It'll be set in 1986, not 1988. Last time I give an update about it. I don't want to spoil anything. The title will most likely be Tangled up in Blue, after the Bob Dylan song, which is in no way related to the story, but I like the name and I like the song, so I'm going to steal it. I hope that's not illegal.