“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say a little defensively.
Harper doesn’t say anything at first. I don’t know if I’m relieved that she dropped it, or not. Do I want to talk about it? I know I should.
I try to focus on the run. The feel of my feet hitting the pavement with each step. I’m doing everything I usually do. My mind usually shuts off by now.
As we jog, I concentrate on breathing in air through my nose, out of my mouth. A slow burn works its way up my calfs. It’s still not enough to shove the image of Jax and the troll out of my head. I need to push myself harder. That’s the only way. I need to feel the pain. I need to overwork myself.
I quicken my pace again. I’m almost sprinting. Harper doesn’t break stride. She’s sweating a little more than me and breathing a little harder. I can tell she isn’t used to running like this. She’s more of a marathon type, not a sprinter. I want to tell her to go at her own pace, but my mouth won’t work. I doubt she would, anyways.
I push myself to the breaking point. It’s the only way I know how to shut it off, to stop picturing them together.
Again I increase my pace. I can see Harper roll her eyes at me before she matches my stride again. We’re both sprinting. My arms hurt, my thighs burn, but they’re not on fire. I want the fire. I need to keep running until I can’t anymore. I need the small distraction, if only for a second.
Harper surprises me by going even faster. Sweat drenches her yellow tank. I’m not much better. Sweat drips down my spine and I use my jacket-covered arm to wipe perspiration off my forehead. My blood pumps so hard I can hear it in my ears. They start to ring, making any other noise impossible to hear.
I won’t last much longer. It’s okay, the images are almost gone. I’ll have my reprieve soon. Harper huffs and puffs alongside me. A little more is all I need. I can feel everything starting to slip away. It’s as if I’m physically leaving my troubles on the pavement with each step. With each pump of my arms, the pain of my broken heart lessens. In its place is the burning of my legs.
I unzip my jacket, needing air or I might pass out. My jacket flaps in the wind. I bring the corner of my jacket up to my chest to wipe off sweat. Harper increases her speed. She has a lot more stamina than I realized. We’re now running as fast as we can. If I don’t stop, tomorrow will be hell. I don’t, I keep pushing. Finally, everything is gone. No more Jax. No more leggy troll. No more broken heart. Just breathing.
I glance at Harper to see how she’s doing. She’s ready to faint. She’s lathered in sweat, her face cherry red, and her breathing erratic. I know I look the same. I slow down. Sense finally kicks in and I realize what I’m doing. I’m killing myself over a guy. A guy that doesn’t even want me. I won’t be that girl. I’d rather save the torture I force upon my body for something real, something that matters. Jax doesn’t matter. He never really did.
She looks relieved when I slow our pace again. We’re now back to a fast jog. A little further, she begins a fast walk. I follow her lead. Two minutes later, we both stop. Waists bent, hand on our knees, we both struggle for air. I toss my water bottle on a patch of grass. Harper follows suit and stretches her hamstrings.
We don’t say anything to each other. I think she is waiting for me to start the conversation. Clearly she knows that’s not my regular running routine, something is on my mind. I’m glad that she gives me time to come out with it. She understands that I don’t like to feel backed into a corner. I can’t function that way.
When we finally gain strength, we trudge to our water bottles. Harper collapses on the ground and doesn’t move. She just closes her eyes. If I didn’t see her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, I would think she was dead. I do a quick stretch with my arms. Hopefully if I stretch enough, I won’t hate myself tomorrow for overdoing it.
I rinse out my dry mouth before sipping from my water bottle. I want to drink it all, but that will give me cramps. Harper heaves loudly and sits up. She chugs her water. Without any grace, I drop down right next to her. I stare at the trees in front of us. I know I need to tell her. Now. Quick and painless like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“I had the great pleasure of meeting Jax’s current slut. Today. At lunch,” I tell her point blank.
Harper’s surprise quickly morphs into anger. She pretty much is spot-on to how I felt in that bathroom. I still can’t believe how little the world is. I can’t even put into words how small I felt sitting on the toilet listening to the troll tell her friend about Jax.
“Back up. Who is she? Where were you? And how do you know she’s sleeping with Jax?” I don’t even have time to answer her before she’s shooting off a new round of questions. “Most importantly, have you talked to Jax? When do you see him again?”
My hands rip out the grass. I force them to lay flat on the ground as I fill her in. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t ask that question. The answer makes me look like a psycho. I sigh heavily, and lay down. I stare up at the sky, different hues of purple and pink with a splash of red. I wish I had my camera to capture the scene in front of me. Its beauty is so simple, it’s magic.
“I asked her if she was talking about Jaxon. Her friend answered me. Even asked if I was his girlfriend. When I told them that I was just his friend’s little sister, the troll stopped looking at me like I was a threat.”
“Please tell me this story ends with you throwing something at her, or at least calling her a troll to her face?”
I love her. I shake my head. “I wish.”
“What happened next?”
I tell Harper in detail everything that happened. Even the parts I didn’t intend on telling her; feeling like my heart broke into tiny little pieces, how angry I was at myself. Surprisingly, I tell her about pretending, about making it seem like I was perfect on the outside, even though I am far from perfect. It’s amazing how easy it is to bare my soul to her. As much as I keep telling myself to be quiet, words continue to flow out of my mouth.
“Nobody’s perfect, Addie,” Harper finally says when I’m done.
“I know that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. Hard to explain, I guess. I hate when people can really see me. See how broken I am. I hate feeling like everyone can see how easily I can shatter. I guess that’s why I do it. It’s become easier over the years pretending to be someone I’m not. It’s easier to become the person I want the world to see than the person I really am.”
“I think letting the world see the real you is better than pretending to be someone you’re not. If anyone doesn’t like the real you, then that person doesn’t deserve to be in your life, Addie.”
Harper lays down on the cold grass beside me. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t like people getting to know me. Probably more from fear than anything. Just something else I need to work on. I want to be the person that tries, not the person that gives up because something horrible happened.
My family wouldn’t want me to give up my life. They would want me to live, to enjoy life. For them, I need to try. It won’t be easy, something will tempt me to return to the dark shadows, but this time I will fight. I want to stay in the light. I don’t want the horrors of my past to trap me in the dark.
Harper sits up again. Dusk has fallen. Time to head back. I need to soak in a hot bubble bath for at least an hour to relax the muscles I over-worked. Which makes me think of making Harper work just as hard. A thought I don’t like.
“I’m sorry about the intense run. I promise next time it won’t be like that. I kind of lost myself in my head.” I hold out my hand to help her up.
She takes it. “It gives me an excuse to go to the spa and get a nice, long massage.”
I grab both of our waters and toss Harper hers. A spa day and massage sounds wonderful. I haven’t been to one in almost seven years. Since Hadley and I worked our butts off to surprise Mom with a day at the spa. My dad found chores around his office and at home so we could earn enough money for Mother’s Day.