Forgiveness~ Chapter One~ Twenty Questions
Posted March 1st, 2012 by SaddleAngel
Cari broke my heart.
He smashed it to pieces, squeezed it until the point of blood flow, demolished it until it was shattered, annihilated it until it was practically numb. Every day, every damn day, I have to live with the mystery, the guilt, the confusion centered around that encounter with one of my best friends. Cari was amazing, a great kid, a true friend, a worthy crush of mine- which is why none of what happened that day.
I met him at a songwriting camp this past summer- tomorrow, it’ll be exactly one year. We were picked to write a song about “the trials of moving on from a past relationship” together, and we had a week to do it. This was my first assignment at the new camp; I didn’t know anyone. So when I was paired up with a gorgeous guy, instead of the dandruff-headed girls that some got stuck with, I was pretty sure that it was a piece of luck on my part. I’ve been writing songs since 11 years old, and I had somewhere around 250 stockpiled in my desk drawers. We first were introduced to our partners in an in-class game of Twenty Questions. As I was about to move over to him, Cari suddenly appeared by my side. He looked into my eyes, and we sat down on the floor together.
“Acario Cox,” he said, his voice sounding like a mixture of music, wind, and a waterfall. I shook his outstretched hand. “Call me Cari.”
“Adabelle Gallagher,” I murmured. “Call me whatever you want. Addy, Ads, Dabs, Elle, doesn’t matter.”
“What do you like?” Cari asked honestly, jotting down something on his class notepad. “Question One.”
“Like I said, doesn’t matter to me,” I snorted. Everyone just called me whatever they pleased, anyways. With a name so unique and shortenable, why even try?”
“Hmm,” Cari mused, cocking his head to the side adorably. “I think you have a hidden opinion on this…”
I laughed. “So I do. But it’s not exactly an opinion of which nickname, it’s more of that I object on principle of respect.”
“I like it. Fiery,” Cari chuckled. “So you don’t care?”
“Bella it is, then,” Cari said. Then he muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t make out.
“Huh?” I asked.
“I said that it fits you,” Cari said, blushing deeply.
I reddened as well. “Um, thanks. I think.”
We sat in silence for a minute, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t stop staring at him- but, fortunately, he was doing the same to me.
“My first question,” I managed, clearing my throat, “is, um… What’s your favorite color?”
Cari shot me a look that clearly stated, really?
“Um, or not,” I muttered.
“Only twenty questions, you have,” Cari said in a “wise” voice. “Use them wisely, you must.”
I grinned. “Star Wars geek?”
“In a galaxy far, far away,” Cari said, raising his eyebrows at me. “You… Let me see. Pretty Little Liars fan?”
“Never watched an episode,” I said proudly. “Indiana Jones and Star Wars all the way.”
“Sick.” Cari wrote it down on his notebook, and I did the same. “Your turn.”
“Question Two.” I winked. “How long have you been songwriting?”
“Why’d you start?”
“I woke up in the middle of the night and had this crazy urge. Like I had to write it…. So I wrote a lyric down that was in my head, and I had a whole song within 20 minutes.”
“You’re shitting me.” My jaw dropped.
Cari raised his eyebrows again- this time in question.
“It was the same way for me!” I gasped.
“Well, I guess that answers my next question,” Cari said, smiling. “You again.”
“What’s the name of the first song you wrote? And how would you rate it, compared to your latest?” I asked.
“That’s two, but okay,” Cari said teasingly. “Good for You and probably… 4.5, if my most recent is an 8.”
I jotted it down. “Nice.”
“Same for you.”
“Waiting, and a 2 if my most recent is a 7.5.”
“Good to see you’re an optimist.” Cari shoved my shoulder gently.
“I’m a realist.” I shoved him right back, retaining the gasp that built up inside me at the touch of his skin to mine. It felt like I was touching the lightest charge of electricity- all sparks, no pain.
“A rebel?” Cari asked simply.
I nodded. “I have no comprehension of the phrase ‘Go with the flow.’ They want us to be individuals when it’s time for drugs and alcohol, but not when they have an idea.”
“Great,” Cari said. “I don’t want to write my first assignment with a mindless blonde.”
“Good. I’m neither. What’s the highest-quality song you’ve ever written?”
“Crazy Yours. You?”
“Love You Until Morning. True or no?”
“False. Based off of a girl I once saw. You?”
“True. First boyfriend.” I laughed ruefully, remembering how it had ended. Cheating on me with a varsity cheerleader. “Favorite genre?”
“Country. I love how it’s not biased. Anyone with a voice and lyrics can make it. You?”
“Same, actually. And for the same reasons.” I grinned at him. My Dream Guy.
“Hmm. Approximate number of songs?” He smiled back at me.
“Probably around 250 or so… You?”
“200, maybe? I went in a spell where I didn’t write for a few months at 13. Have you ever?”
See more stories by Hadleigh Philomena