Old Wounds: Little Battles Part 4

She picked up the envelopes sitting next to my keyboard. "Julliard. Yale. Princeton. Stanford. Maryland. Georgetown. Colorado. Harvard?" Sophie turned to look at me. "What are all these?"

My body tensed as my heart beat faster. "C-college applications."

"They look all set to go. We pa.s.s right by the post office on the way home. Do you want to take them tonight?"

I shook my head. "N-no."

Sophie studied me for a moment. "Why not?"

I was sure my face showed my panic, and I shook my head again.

"Does college make you nervous?"

I nodded in response.

Sighing, she set the envelopes down and shrugged. "Maybe I'll apply where you do and we'll just go to the same school."

That would be wonderful. I wondered if she knew how helpful that would be to me. "A-a-are you p-p-planning to go?"

"To college?" I nodded. "I don't have applications all filled out, sealed, and ready to go a year early like you, but maybe."

I was sort of shocked. Most people our age already had solid plans, or at least had schools in mind. My applications were completed because I'd been thinking about getting in early instead of completing my senior year of high school. "You d-don't know?" She shook her head. "I-it's not ex-expected?"

"Tom hasn't mentioned it, and Helen never cared about, well, anything to do with me really, but school especially. No, I take that back. She cared enough to convince the teachers that she was a decent mom, but when I turned eighteen she would have been rid of me either way, so she didn't care about choosing a school or applications and all that."

"D-do you w-want to go?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

I was confused. How could she not know if she wanted to go to college or not? "B-but you're ssssso sssmart. W-why w-wouldn't you?"

Her eyes darkened a bit. "Why do you have finished applications just sitting around in your room?"

I knew her question was asked out of defensiveness, and I didn't answer.

"There's no real point for me to go, Elliott."

"W-why not?"

She sighed. "I'll most likely be dead or something." The smile she gave me wasn't real.

Fear struck me when I fully realized she wasn't joking. Graduation wasn't that far off; did she really think that she'd be dead by then? Was she actively seeking it? "SSSSSSSS-SSSSSSooooo," I couldn't even say her name without elongating the S and O, so I gave up. I needed to focus on something to keep the fear from escalating into panic.

"Come on," she said as she grabbed the envelopes. "Let's put these in the mail. I have to get home."

"S-S-SSSophie d-d-don't. N-n-not y-yet."

She paused as she opened the drop shoot of the mailbox.

"I'm guessing that since these don't have to be completed till next year, you have a chance for early admission, right? I think you should take it."

"B-b-but, I..."

"Elliott," she said, her voice calm, "while I don't know what's happening with me, we both know you're gonna go to college, and that it's going to be great. The only way to get there is to be accepted, and the only way to get accepted is to apply."

My hands clenched and I pressed my fists into the top of my thighs. She was about to drop the envelopes into the mailbox and then the applications would be out of my hands and into other people's. "S-S-S-SSSSS..."

"Elliott," she said again as she withdrew her hand, still holding the envelopes. "They're pieces of paper, and it's just college."

But it wasn't just college. It was new places, new things, and new people. It was the fear of not being good enough, the fear of people not understanding, the fear of rejection, and the fear of never being anything more than the stupid stuttering guy in cla.s.s. Some degrees required a foreign language. There was no way that I could escape two years of Spanish or Russian or German without having to speak in front of people.

"I-I c-c-c-can't...I-I d-d-don't w-w-w-w..." I was getting anxious and nervous. I didn't want to have a panic attack over college applications while she watched.

Her eyes softened and she sighed, moving away from the mailbox as she licked her lips and stopped next to me. She put the envelopes in my hand before reaching up and stroking the side of my head, then tugging at my hair.

"Just put them in the box, Elliott. Then you don't have to worry about it anymore. It'll be done."

I gripped the envelopes tightly and closed my eyes, concentrating on the feel of her hand in my hair.

"What was it Churchill said? 'If you're going through h.e.l.l, keep going'? The only way out is to keep going, and all you have to do is walk to the box, open up the little door, and let those f.u.c.king things slide out of your hands. It'll be okay and you won't have to think about it anymore."

Logically, I knew she was right and that it was ridiculous to be frozen to the spot outside the Damascus Post Office. But I couldn't help it. I wished it was easier for me to do this. I wished that I was like every other teenager and only put it off because I was lazy. Oh, how I wished that was the case instead of being frozen in panic and fear.

The thought of her applying with me calmed me a little, but I had no way of knowing if she truly would, and even if she did, it didn't mean that she'd be accepted. She wasn't stupid. I knew she was actually quite smart, because I'd seen the grades on her tests when Reese handed them back, and also based on all of our conversations. But if she did apply and even if we were accepted into the same school, I had no guarantee that she would go, especially based on what she'd said earlier. She didn't exactly sound motivated.

"S-S-SSSophie," I gasped, unprepared for the intensity of the situation. I was sure we looked stupid and if Chris saw us, he'd be extra cruel tomorrow, but I couldn't get myself to move.

I wanted to put the ridiculous envelopes in that stupid blue box. I wanted to do it because Sophie was there and she wanted me to. My brain yelled at my feet to move, but they wouldn't. Although I wasn't gasping for breath like during a regular attack, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to disappoint her, but I wasn't able to get over the fear and panic that was holding me down.

I had no idea how long we stood there like that until I was finally able to open my eyes, but it was only because Sophie removed her hand from my hair.

"You can mail them tomorrow," she said, her voice quiet as she gave me the out that I needed.

I let out a deep breath.

"But food for thought," she said as she moved away from me, and walked over to my car. "You're way too smart to flip burgers or pour concrete. A job is a job, but those aren't for you." She turned her back to me. "There are people everywhere. Not all of them are a.s.sholes, but most are. Don't let the fact that you don't know them keep you from doing awesome things."

She opened the car door and I looked down at the letters in my hand and sighed. I felt completely sick to my stomach, my head was swimming, and I was drowning in a sea of emotion, but I sucked in a deep breath and said, "Y-y-you d-d-d-do it."

I thrust out my hand, gripping the envelopes tight and making them wrinkle.

Sophie turned around. With a half-smile, she said, "I'm not going to walk all the way back over there if you're not going to let me really do it this time."

I held my arm out farther. "P-p-please?"

I closed my eyes as she came back toward me. My breathing sped back up as I felt her take the papers from my hand. I nearly choked on my heart when I heard the creaking of the metal door. I had to concentrate really hard on not vomiting.

"There. Now Elliott's going to college and there's nothing he can do about it, so there's absolutely no reason for him to worry."

I sighed. "W-why are you t-talking about me in the th-third p-person?"

When I opened my eyes, I saw her smiling. "Because I'm telling you that you're not going to worry."

I swallowed hard as she tugged on my arm, but then released it. "Now that that's over..."

It was a long moment before I could move my feet, but when I did, I found myself no less stressed about the applications than before. However, now the stress was accompanied by sadness over the fact that I would be taking her home, but I finally made myself move.

When I pulled up at the curb, she turned while unbuckling her seatbelt. "Do you feel better about it now?"

I knew she was talking about the applications, and I didn't want to lie. "N-no."

"You will. Don't let that s.h.i.t bother you so much. You think too much."

"Sssssorry."

Sophie chuckled and threw me a smile. "I don't want an apology. I like that you think too much, but don't convince yourself that you can't do something."

"I-I'm ssssorry."

"Stop."

"I-I c-c-c-can't, S-Sophie. I-I d-don't w-w-want to..." I stumbled, "...l-let you d-down, b-but I j-just c-c..."

I stopped talking, suddenly aware that Sophie was on her knees in the pa.s.senger seat facing me. Her hands were in my hair and I took in a deep breath. She gave me a quick kiss, her lips gently brushing over mine.

It was entirely too short. I wanted more. I reached out to take her hand like she'd done with me, but she pulled away.

"I have to go. Tom's..." she sucked in a deep breath, "probably..." she trailed off as she opened the door.

"C-c-can I t-t-take you t-t-to school t-tomorrow?"

"Jason's already planning on picking me up like usual."

Oh, right. Jason.

I tried to not let it show on my face, but failed. The disappointment had to have been clear.

"But you can pick me up on Monday, if you want."

Without waiting for my response or looking back at me, Sophie got out of the car and jogged the short distance to the front door.

One thing was for sure: Sophie Young was confusing.

It took a great deal of concentration to drive home safely. After Sophie had left the car, I allowed myself to recognize that I was half-hard. It was uncomfortable.

I sat in the garage for fifteen minutes until it went away. Incredibly thankful that the evening hadn't been a replay of the night after D.C., I entered the house and tried to avoid everyone. The Wallaces and Trent were still over, and I really didn't want to socialize, but that was the usual.

In my room, I powered up my computer and looked for Sophie's e-mail, feeling the need to make sure I returned it tonight.

There was a message from YoSoph, just like she said there would be. I didn't fully understand why, but I felt like I was waiting for the carpet to be pulled out from under me. Surely, she couldn't have actually kissed me, and there was no way she meant it - whatever "it" was. Somewhere inside, I was waiting for her to figure out that I wasn't worth her time or energy.

Elliott, Do you want to do something on Sat.u.r.day?

I'm turning in my application after school on Thursday. I've never played video games before. Not really my thing, I think.

I'm not sure what your first question is really asking. When did I know that other people's lives were different than mine? I don't know. Probably pretty young, though. I went to this girl's birthday party when I was in kindergarten and she lived with both her parents. They had a dog and flowers everywhere. Her mom and dad kept hugging her and telling her that they loved her and how it was her birthday, and that meant it was her day or whatever. That pretty much showed me what I had with Helen and Tom was insanely different from what other kids had with their parents.

I've never told anyone about the fork. Why would anyone care about it? The hospital seemed to believe that I slipped and fell, even though the bruise was on the opposite cheek. If the hospital, filled with doctors and nurses who are supposed to be trained to figure s.h.i.t out didn't care, why would anyone else?

I told you because you kept asking.

I didn't come to live with my dad sooner because he never invited me. And even if he had, who the h.e.l.l knows if Helen would have let me? She might have hated me, but she needed me. She can't cook, doesn't understand the concept of separating colors from whites, and refuses to clean up after a cat that she decided to adopt.

Am I happy? I'm as happy as I can be.

When you close your eyes and think about someplace that's completely safe and comfortable, which place do you see?

What do you want most out of life?

Did your dad have OCD or something like that (in regards to the mud and the TV)? Jace's dad has OCD and he's pretty controlling when it comes to dirt and germs, and who can be in his house, and what they can touch.

If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Do you believe in luck?

Bonus: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And don't think I'm joking. I really want to know and figured you might know that s.h.i.t.

I'll see you in school, S.

I wasted no time in composing my reply.

Sophie, I'm sorry about the applications. I must seem rather weak and pathetic to you. I don't really know why I couldn't do it. You're right, I know I'm going to college, but the act of sending those applications in was just daunting.

Just to clarify, I would love to do something with you on Sat.u.r.day. We never really decided on anything.

When I close my eyes and think of the place I feel most comfortable, I would have to say that it's my room that I see. It has all of my things and that makes it comfortable, and no one comes in here unless I want them to, which makes it safe.

One song for the rest of my life? That's impossible to answer. Probably something by Chopin. I never get tired listening to his works. His Nocturne #1, Op 9 is probably my favorite. I'll play it for you sometime.

I don't think I believe in luck. I'm not sure. If I did, then I've never possessed it. When good things happen I don't think it's luck, and when bad things happen, I would hate to think that something as vague as luck would cause it.

My father didn't have OCD, as far as I know. He had some very firm religious beliefs that he imposed on everyone around him. He was obsessed with this notion of "clean living means a clean heart and a pure soul." Television and video games weren't clean. Actually, it extended to most forms of new technology. It wasn't that he was afraid of it, or of the change it brought. It was more that he saw it as corrupted and corruptive.

So that explains the TV. As for the mud, I've thought about it and all I can come up with is that mud and dirt were the literal/physical manifestation of his internal thoughts. Jesus walked in dirt, so I don't understand why my father hated it so much.

So now for what I want out of life...I feel like I need to think about this for a while. I suppose I just want to find some lasting form of happiness. I always feel good when I'm playing music, but I can't play all the time and while I tend to have it on my mind quite a lot, the feeling isn't the same. So I would like a happiness that could saturate and seep into me.

As for the bonus, I don't know anything about woodchucks, but I could Google it for you.