Amy spent the next two weeks avoiding everyone. At home, she holed up in
her room and brooded, refusing to sit down to meals with her dads whenever
they didn't insist on it (and, knowing full well that having Amy around in
her current temperament would lead to more trouble than it was worth, they
rarely did). At school, she sometimes went drastically out of her way just
so she wouldn't cross paths with Jessie or Andy or Ben in the halls. In
Jack's English class, which was the only one she shared with Andy, Amy made
a point of coming in right before the bell each day and pretending to be in
a hurry at the end of class so that she wouldn't have to talk to him any
more than necessary. During their lunch period, she found excuse after
excuse to spend the hour in the library doing last-minute research or
homework she'd neglected the night before.
Amy's inexplicable personality change puzzled and disturbed Andrew, who had known her forever and had never seen her go through a funk that lasted quite this long and was of this caliber. She seemed to be trying to cut him out of her life, and, worse, she refused to offer any suitable explanation for her strange behavior.
One Saturday morning, he cornered her on the pier behind her house as she sat at the end of it, dangling her feet into the cool creek water. She didn't even turn around when he cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Hey, stranger," he said after a moment.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Nice to see you, too, Aim."
"Sorry. What's up?"
He sat down next to her and tried to make eye contact, but she avoided his gaze and continued to stare out over the sun-dazzled water. "I was hoping you would answer that for me," he said.
"Mmm."
"Amy, what's going on with you?" he asked, his neutral tone evaporating as his frustration broke the surface. "If I've done something to piss you off, I think you at least owe me an explanation."
"I'm fine, Andy. I'm not mad at you."
"Then why have you been treating me like some mildly annoying acquaintance for the past two weeks? Why won't you even look at me?" He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to turn her to face him, but she resisted.
"I told you, I've been grounded. Sorry I haven't been able to spend every waking moment with you, but I'm sure you understand my predicament."
"Damn it, Amy, that's not the problem, and you know it. I know you better than that, or have you forgotten?"
She was silent for so long he began to think she wasn't going to answer at all. Then she heaved a great sigh and turned to look at him, her clear blue eyes sharp and direct, the stare hitting him like a ray of sunlight.
"You're right," she said. "I haven't been myself lately. In fact, I haven't been everyone's sweet little innocent girl-next-door Amy Lindley for quite some time, and no one seems to be able to come to terms with that. But you'd better start accepting it, Andrew, if you're interested in continuing with this relationship. Because I'm really not sure the Amy you know and love is ever coming back." With that, Amy stood up and started back down the pier toward the house, leaving Andy sitting there, stung by her words and more bewildered than ever.
The truth was, Amy herself wasn't even sure what was wrong, or when things had gone so terribly off track. All she knew was that her simple, low-key Capeside existence didn't seem to fit her anymore. She was tired of her friends, she was tired of Andrew and all the baggage that came with their relationship, she was tired of her well-meaning but overly involved patchwork family. Most of all, she was tired of herself and of the pressure to live up to the reputation she had set for herself long ago: the good student, the loyal friend, the dutiful daughter...And as she distanced herself from her friends and family and everything she had known since birth, the hole in her heart seemed to grow bigger and deeper and darker by the day.
The ecstasy had been a mistake, she knew, and not just because she had gotten caught. Her memories of that night were hazy: Ben holding her hand in a death grip as she drifted along behind him in her fog of barely repressed excitement all evening (he had refused to let her leave his side at the party), caught up in a friendly, uninhibited, ethereal haze of smiling strangers and loud, lovely, captivating music; everything had a texture and a scent and an aura that she had never noticed before... She remembered thinking how wonderful it was, how beautiful. It seemed a shame she had never let herself go like this, never experienced this strange overwhelming world of pleasure and happiness and light, harmless enjoyment.
But then it was over, and it was like waking to a bad dream; as the rosy glow wore off her surroundings, she found herself lost in uncertainty, fear, loneliness... When Ben dropped her off at her house and left her there to sleep it off, she lay awake on top of her covers for hours with a lingering hollow of sadness deep in her chest that she had yet to shake, even now, weeks later.
How could she expect anyone to understand how she felt when she herself didn't? It was a thought that ate at her, and she longed for someone that she could share her feelings with. Her mom would have understood; somehow she knew that. Sometimes late at night she took out the framed photograph of Jen that she kept in the bottom drawer of her nightstand and spilled everything she was feeling, sometimes surprising herself with some tidbit of emotion she hadn't even realized was there.
Once her dad had walked in while she was holding the picture. She jumped in alarm and guiltily moved to shove it under her pillow.
"I'm sorry, hon, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "I should have knocked." He nodded toward her hand, indicating the photo. "May I see?" He gently took it from her as he sat down on the foot of her bed. "Wow, she was beautiful, huh? She was about your age then; can you believe the resemblance?"
"I don't see it," Amy muttered. "She was a lot prettier than I am."
Jack frowned thoughtfully down at the image of his best friend's face, frozen in time at sixteen years old, looking back at him with that contagious smile that he remembered so well. Then he looked back at Amy. "Not true, and you know it. You're both gorgeous," he said, handing the picture back to her.
She took it and leaned across the bed to shove it back into its drawer. When she sat up again, Jack was still watching her face closely, so she looked down at her fingernails.
"I have some good news for you," he said. "Doug and I have decided to let you off early for good behavior. You're officially ungrounded."
"Okay, thanks."
"That's it?" he said. "You're not just busting at the seams to get out of this prison?"
"Not really," she said. "Nothing to do."
"Why don't you call Jessie or Andy and see what they're up to? I'm sure they miss you."
"Yeah, maybe I will," she said.
"Aim?"
She looked at him questioningly.
"Please tell me what I can do to help you. I feel like you've been trying to tell me something and I'm just missing it. I'm sorry I'm not a mind reader, but I really do need a little help. Just give me a clue, and I'll puzzle out the big picture on my own. Can you do that?"
"I'm all right, Daddy," she said after a pause. Then, slightly more truthfully, "I'd tell you if I could."
She felt a stab of guilt at the hurt look in his eyes and wished she could pretend that all was well and good again. Just to make him feel better, she forced a smile. "I'll call Jess and see what's going on. I think she mentioned some party she wanted me to go to with her."
"But you'll remember what got you into trouble in the first place, won't you?" Jack said, immediately concerned by the word "party."
"Of course I will. You have nothing to worry about."
He left, and she picked up the phone and dialed Jessie's number, feeling that maybe a party was just what she needed to start feeling like herself again.
Amy's inexplicable personality change puzzled and disturbed Andrew, who had known her forever and had never seen her go through a funk that lasted quite this long and was of this caliber. She seemed to be trying to cut him out of her life, and, worse, she refused to offer any suitable explanation for her strange behavior.
One Saturday morning, he cornered her on the pier behind her house as she sat at the end of it, dangling her feet into the cool creek water. She didn't even turn around when he cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Hey, stranger," he said after a moment.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Nice to see you, too, Aim."
"Sorry. What's up?"
He sat down next to her and tried to make eye contact, but she avoided his gaze and continued to stare out over the sun-dazzled water. "I was hoping you would answer that for me," he said.
"Mmm."
"Amy, what's going on with you?" he asked, his neutral tone evaporating as his frustration broke the surface. "If I've done something to piss you off, I think you at least owe me an explanation."
"I'm fine, Andy. I'm not mad at you."
"Then why have you been treating me like some mildly annoying acquaintance for the past two weeks? Why won't you even look at me?" He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to turn her to face him, but she resisted.
"I told you, I've been grounded. Sorry I haven't been able to spend every waking moment with you, but I'm sure you understand my predicament."
"Damn it, Amy, that's not the problem, and you know it. I know you better than that, or have you forgotten?"
She was silent for so long he began to think she wasn't going to answer at all. Then she heaved a great sigh and turned to look at him, her clear blue eyes sharp and direct, the stare hitting him like a ray of sunlight.
"You're right," she said. "I haven't been myself lately. In fact, I haven't been everyone's sweet little innocent girl-next-door Amy Lindley for quite some time, and no one seems to be able to come to terms with that. But you'd better start accepting it, Andrew, if you're interested in continuing with this relationship. Because I'm really not sure the Amy you know and love is ever coming back." With that, Amy stood up and started back down the pier toward the house, leaving Andy sitting there, stung by her words and more bewildered than ever.
The truth was, Amy herself wasn't even sure what was wrong, or when things had gone so terribly off track. All she knew was that her simple, low-key Capeside existence didn't seem to fit her anymore. She was tired of her friends, she was tired of Andrew and all the baggage that came with their relationship, she was tired of her well-meaning but overly involved patchwork family. Most of all, she was tired of herself and of the pressure to live up to the reputation she had set for herself long ago: the good student, the loyal friend, the dutiful daughter...And as she distanced herself from her friends and family and everything she had known since birth, the hole in her heart seemed to grow bigger and deeper and darker by the day.
The ecstasy had been a mistake, she knew, and not just because she had gotten caught. Her memories of that night were hazy: Ben holding her hand in a death grip as she drifted along behind him in her fog of barely repressed excitement all evening (he had refused to let her leave his side at the party), caught up in a friendly, uninhibited, ethereal haze of smiling strangers and loud, lovely, captivating music; everything had a texture and a scent and an aura that she had never noticed before... She remembered thinking how wonderful it was, how beautiful. It seemed a shame she had never let herself go like this, never experienced this strange overwhelming world of pleasure and happiness and light, harmless enjoyment.
But then it was over, and it was like waking to a bad dream; as the rosy glow wore off her surroundings, she found herself lost in uncertainty, fear, loneliness... When Ben dropped her off at her house and left her there to sleep it off, she lay awake on top of her covers for hours with a lingering hollow of sadness deep in her chest that she had yet to shake, even now, weeks later.
How could she expect anyone to understand how she felt when she herself didn't? It was a thought that ate at her, and she longed for someone that she could share her feelings with. Her mom would have understood; somehow she knew that. Sometimes late at night she took out the framed photograph of Jen that she kept in the bottom drawer of her nightstand and spilled everything she was feeling, sometimes surprising herself with some tidbit of emotion she hadn't even realized was there.
Once her dad had walked in while she was holding the picture. She jumped in alarm and guiltily moved to shove it under her pillow.
"I'm sorry, hon, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "I should have knocked." He nodded toward her hand, indicating the photo. "May I see?" He gently took it from her as he sat down on the foot of her bed. "Wow, she was beautiful, huh? She was about your age then; can you believe the resemblance?"
"I don't see it," Amy muttered. "She was a lot prettier than I am."
Jack frowned thoughtfully down at the image of his best friend's face, frozen in time at sixteen years old, looking back at him with that contagious smile that he remembered so well. Then he looked back at Amy. "Not true, and you know it. You're both gorgeous," he said, handing the picture back to her.
She took it and leaned across the bed to shove it back into its drawer. When she sat up again, Jack was still watching her face closely, so she looked down at her fingernails.
"I have some good news for you," he said. "Doug and I have decided to let you off early for good behavior. You're officially ungrounded."
"Okay, thanks."
"That's it?" he said. "You're not just busting at the seams to get out of this prison?"
"Not really," she said. "Nothing to do."
"Why don't you call Jessie or Andy and see what they're up to? I'm sure they miss you."
"Yeah, maybe I will," she said.
"Aim?"
She looked at him questioningly.
"Please tell me what I can do to help you. I feel like you've been trying to tell me something and I'm just missing it. I'm sorry I'm not a mind reader, but I really do need a little help. Just give me a clue, and I'll puzzle out the big picture on my own. Can you do that?"
"I'm all right, Daddy," she said after a pause. Then, slightly more truthfully, "I'd tell you if I could."
She felt a stab of guilt at the hurt look in his eyes and wished she could pretend that all was well and good again. Just to make him feel better, she forced a smile. "I'll call Jess and see what's going on. I think she mentioned some party she wanted me to go to with her."
"But you'll remember what got you into trouble in the first place, won't you?" Jack said, immediately concerned by the word "party."
"Of course I will. You have nothing to worry about."
He left, and she picked up the phone and dialed Jessie's number, feeling that maybe a party was just what she needed to start feeling like herself again.