Diary of Chance: Chapter One

Chapter One

The door slammed downstairs jolting me from my math homework. Giggling followed and I looked at the time. Five-thirty. Parents were home.

I shut my pre-calc book and with only a moment of hesitation and time to gather my patience, I slipped off my lavender comforter and opened the door to make my way down the stairs.

Music played from the living room where my parents were still teasing each other. I rolled my eyes before I walked in and tried to look as calm as possible.

I walked across the hardwood floor, cold on my bare feet and saw, yep, just as I expected. My parents were dancing.

My dad, just shy of forty-five had his hand on my mom’s lower back, sweeping her into a low dip. They were still dressed in their work clothes and dirt littered the floor from where they stomped around in their shoes. Brown hair, the same shade as mine, cascaded over his arm as she laughed.

I stood there, waiting to be noticed. Having parents who were in love all of the time was not always a happy sight especially when you would rather them be quiet.

“Hailey!” my dad said, pulling my mom up and his eyes brightening. “Didn’t know you were upstairs. I thought you’d still be at practice.”

“Olivia had a hissy fit about being kicked off from the flyer position. We were let out early so coach could deal with her.” That afternoon practice had been rough. The team was a month from the homecoming game and coach had enough with Olivia. I would have loved to see her be kicked off as head cheerleader, but she thought kicking her off as flyer would change something. After coach made the announcement, Olivia threw a fit and wouldn’t stop screaming. Coach let everyone out early. I wasn’t sure the trade-off would be worth it.

“Maybe you’ll get the position then!”

My mom gave me a look and I returned it. My dad could be dense, but my mom understood Olivia better than I did sometimes. Being a flyer and taking Olivia’s place meant I should just put a “kick me” sign on my back.

“Yeah, sure dad,” I said and he smiled. Clueless. “Did you get the mail? I wanted to see if anymore college letters came in.”

“No, I forgot,” my mom said before exchanging winks with my dad. Gross.

I gave them one last eye roll before walking out the door. They were cracking up again when I closed it.

Having parents who loved each other was great, don’t get me wrong. I heard stories about divorces and parents who argued over every little thing. My parents never argued and paid attention to me as much as they did each other. I knew that the kids I teased always hoped I had a hard time at home and I was sure they were told I was hiding some deep dark secret and that’s why I lashed out. No. I could be a bitch sometimes. No explanation needed.

I walked down the path and grabbed the envelopes from the box. On the other hand, my parents could also be so wrapped up in each other that I was ignored. It wasn’t often and not enough for me to hold a grudge. Usually it was the kissing and cuddling in front of me that grossed me out. Or the time they gave me the sex talk together and my mom went into a full, no-holding back, description of how sucky the first time could be. Thanks mom.

As a senior, my letters were all from potential colleges. While I threw most of them away, I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything I was missing. I wanted to get out of this town as soon as possible and make sure Olivia would be going somewhere else.

I flipped through the envelopes, three from colleges, two for my parents, and one with just my name on it.

I slowed down my pace to the door. No return address was scrawled in the corner or an address under my name for that matter, just my name Hailey Jacobs scrawled in pen. I folded the envelope, the note only taking up half of it, and shoved it in my pocket before my parents could see.

They had moved to the couch where I thankfully couldn’t see them anymore, but I could hear mumbling and occasional breakout of laughter. I slid the letters for them across the hardwood before walking up to my room.

I plopped back onto my bed, shoved the homework aside, and pulled out the envelope. It was almost not worth reading. Love notes had pretty much stopped last year when I made sure to let people know I was not interested. I received notes in my locker on a weekly basis from eighth grade (when I got boobs) to my Junior year. After one naked drawing of me, I put an end to it. I couldn’t believe it worked, but after calling out the drawer at lunch and telling him that I would never date him or anyone else, most of them stopped. A few guys harassed me in the hallways, but I tried to be as intimidating as possible. Any notes that were still shoved in my locker, I threw away.

Coming to my house to put a letter in the mailbox was crossing a line of creepiness. My parents could have picked it up. It was risky. Whomever left the envelope needed to be stopped and there was nothing like humiliation to finish it. If it one of Olivia’s friends wrote it then there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but at least I would know who to yell at.

Before I could even unseal the envelope, there was a knock on the door. I shoved the envelope under my pillow before saying “come in!”

My mom slipped through the door and glided to the bed. She used to be a dancer before she had me. Her legs were still long and she seemed to float everywhere she went, hardly making any noise. She only danced with my father in the living room for only me to see. I had inherited most of her traits except for her height and eye color. I was only 5’5 compared to her height of 5’8. Her eyes were a boring hazel color and mine were my dad’s bright blue. I was lucky my parents were attractive.

She sat right next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, what’s up with you?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.” I leaned against her thin shoulder, always able to find comfort.

“Nervous about Olivia?”

“I guess. You know how she gets. She hates losing and with me as flyer, she’s going to be after me.”

She turned to me, excitement in her eyes, but I could see some hint of worry. “You already got it?”

I nodded with a slight smile. “Coach asked me this morning if I would take it. I thought about saying no, but who would get it then? Darcy? She would hold that against me and try and push me down. I can’t have that happening.”

My mom rolled her eyes. I prepared myself for the lecture disguised as a conversation. “Honey, I don’t know why you’re so worried about your status. You graduate this year and you’ll be leaving everyone. Stop worrying and just have fun. You’re always so stressed out. I get reports from the school and I hear about the bullying. Are you really like this?”

No. But I couldn’t tell people that. Maybe being popular meant I was always under a microscope, but at least I wasn’t terrorized or forgotten.

“Those were Olivia. I was just there. I didn’t do anything.” Mostly.

I could see that she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t try to convince her. She didn’t need to know the truth. Like she said, I would be graduating in May.

“Any interesting boys?” she asked with a hint of a smile playing at the ends of her mouth.

Why do parents ask questions that make you roll your eyes if they don’t like that response? I rolled my eyes and she nudged me. “No,” I said. “They’re annoying and somebody would ruin it. It’s not worth it.”

“Your father was once one of those guys, but he grew out of it Hailey. It’s hard to date somebody in high school, but you might wish you had that experience in a few years.”

I doubted it. “If you say so.”

“I’m not saying you need a boyfriend, just that you might want to consider having somebody to be close to. What about just a good friend? What about Layla?”

Olivia, Darcy, Eliza, Layla, and I were friends since third grade and still all on the same cheer team. Once we hit fifth grade, Olivia wanted to be popular and none of us stopped her. We clawed up the ranks with her and pushed aside anyone in our way with vicious rumors. Olivia and I claimed the top spots by always being ready to start a rumor or stab each other in the back. Eliza and Darcy were best friends since Pre-K and also the easiest to make cry, but they were pretty and easy to manipulate. Layla was the odd one out, but she stayed with us. If we were to try and push her out, she could take all of us down because of the secrets we told her. She was invaluable even if she never bullied. Friendship became a looser definition.

“Mom, just leave it alone,” I grumbled. “I have to do homework.”

She gave me a squeeze of the shoulder. “Okay, but I’m here. I love you.” She stood up.

“Love you too,” I said, my eyes on my history reading already.

She shut the door.

I ignored the history book and pulled out the envelope out from under the pillow. Thank god she hadn’t seen the envelope. She claimed that she didn’t care if I had a boyfriend or not because she wants me to be independent, but ever since I followed her advice, she seemed to wish it different.

I unfolded the line piece of paper, the jagged edge from being ripped out of a notebook feathering over my thumb. I saw my name at the top and flipped it over to see if I knew the note giver.

Just like the missing return address, there was no signature. Secret admirer?

It was tempting to throw away, but I really didn’t want to have this be a stalker that I ignored threats from. I’ve had secret admirers, but most stopped after ninth grade when they realized I would ignore that person further since I never knew who it was. There were never any circled yeses in my locker for the secret admirer. Those were easier to ignore.

I flipped the note back over and began reading.

Hailey,

How do you start a letter like this? How did you even get picked? I wrote a list of everyone I found in the yearbook and the people you overlook filled a page front and back. The popular people didn’t make that list. I don’t need to be ridiculed more. But yours did. Why?

I don’t know. You always interested me Hailey. You hang out with Olivia and you are just as bad as her in your little group, but you ignore everyone else. You don’t go after anyone like Olivia. You never humiliated people who are already lower than you like Olivia. The real reason I put you on the list is how could you be picked when there’s so many other people on the list? Maybe I put you on because I didn’t want to judge you when I don’t know you. I picked a random number in my head and counted until I reached the name and it was yours. Weird.

I tried writing in a journal like my therapist told me to, but it didn’t work. How was talking to myself going to change anything? I needed somebody my age to talk to, but I didn’t want to talk to my friends. They would get freaked out and my parents would yell if they found out. They don’t like to hear about my therapy. It messes up looking perfect like they’re close to that. I wanted to make an impact so I’m writing you this and I hope you read it. If you don’t nothing will happen, but it would make me feel better. I know I’m being selfish and I don’t think I care. Does that make me a bad person? Probably.

I just want to write you letters about what’s going on in my life. I’m not going to tell you my name because I don’t need you to try and help me and I don’t think you would anyway so why risk it? You don’t have to read them but let me know if you won’t. I thought about it and I would rather know if you read them. It helps if you do. Put up a piece of paper in your locker where I can see it. I should be able to in between classes if you put it up then so nobody takes it down when we’re in class. I won’t write anymore and I’ll figure something else out. Just try and take a chance, okay, Hailey?

The edges were crinkling in my hands. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was this a trick? People did not come to me for help. I might not mock them as much as Olivia did but I would ignore them. Layla was the nice one, not me. Then again, me getting these letters was just a product of chance. I was a random who somehow got chosen out of a long list. It wasn’t like I was special.

I wasn’t special. This wasn’t a love note. But was this person going to take up that much of my time? Nobody would figure out about this.

I folded the letter back up and slipped it into my drawer. it was a way to do something nice even if it wasn’t the way my mom would like. There was no risk and if it helped somebody why not? I was curious.

Times like now, I wished I could do something like what the writer was doing; tell somebody my secrets without repercussions. I think everybody wanted to do that, but this person actually did. It was unsettling, but also a type of bravery I could never manage.

I pulled my history book back into my lap. I could at least make an effort.