I fall asleep in most of my classes. Of course, this is a result of staying up late into the night watching Amber sleep. I can’t think of a better reason to be tired. All day Devlin shoots me looks but I ignore them, my mind constantly wandering to Amber. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Probably sleeping, that seems to be her favorite thing to do as of now.
At lunch Mikey and I sit at a table by ourselves. Neither of us talks but it’s nice to be in the company of someone who understands how you feel. The only real interaction we have is switching pudding cups; chocolate for vanilla. Mikey hasn’t eaten chocolate pudding since the night his cousin was attacked, something about Amber and that type of pudding. I have a feeling his boycotting of chocolate pudding is similar to my reasons for not eating cereal. Those things remind us too much of happier times…times that we might never enter into again.
After lunch both Mikey and I are called to the guidance office. This can’t mean anything good, unless we’ve both won awards but I highly doubt it. Sitting in the armed chair in front of the guidance counselor’s big oak desk, I feel nervous. I’ve never liked school authorities and normally try my best to stay away from them.
“How are you boys doing?” questions the white haired women behind the desk, breaking the silence.
I feel nauseous, “I can’t speak for Mikey but I don’t quite understand why I’m here.”
The counselor frowns, “Your friend was raped; any normal person would feel the urge to talk about their feelings.”
I wince at her words, hating how she can say it so easily. Reaching for the garbage can I cough, glad nothing comes up. Mikey doesn’t look to well either, his face very pale, fingers clenched into tight fists. People trying to talk to us about what happened isn’t going to help. This is one of those things you have to deal with on your own.
Standing up, I pat Mikey on the back, without a word we both walk towards the door, only turning back once we’re nearly out, “Thank you for trying to help but neither of us wants it.”
Again the counselor frowns but lets us go without a word. In the hall both Mikey and I slide down the white wall, our faces in our hands. People can’t just spring at us like that. If anyone who was close to Amber wanted help they’d find it themselves. Right now none of us care very much about ourselves…we just want Amber better.
“I’m tired,” Mikey mumbles, head leaning against the wall, hands resting in his knees. “I stay up too late just waiting for her to start screaming. I know you’re there but I still worry.”
I nod completely understanding where Mikey is coming from. It’s just one big waiting game. Everyone is waiting for Amber to snap and just completely loose it. As much as I dread it I know it’s coming, it just can’t be avoided. Once it does come though she’ll be on the fast track to recovery if I understand how these things work.
“I know man, but I’m there. You should sleep at night,” I reply as the bell rings, a swarm of students crowding the halls.
Mikey and I skip the last three periods of the day, deciding to drive around town instead. I find another music box for Amber and, putting our money together, Mikey and I buy it for her. Maybe it’ll help her heal.
Around three I figure it’s safe to go home. Thank goodness my car still has gas. I park and hand the music box to Mikey, making him promise he’d tell Amber I’d be over later.
Even though I have homework I don’t do it, instead I go upstairs and collapse on my bed, enjoying the sleep.
I am awaken by the soft sound of Amber’s voice calling out to me through the walkie talkie. Groaning a little I reach up and grab it.
“Hey Ambo,” I respond.
“How was school?” she asks sounding genuinely curious.
I sigh, “It wasn’t good. I slept through classes and after lunch the counselor tried to talk to Mikey and me about what happened. We just got up and left.”
“I know, Mikey told me. A news crew came by while Uncle Donald was over,” Amber informs me, her news causing my heart to stop for a second.
“What did they want?”
“Information,” Amber answers sounding very bored. “Uncle Donald told them I wasn’t ready to talk yet. I guess people are tired of watching the police tapes.”
“Do you want to talk to the press?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…at some point but not right now…it’s still too soon.”
I just sit quietly for a minute knowing she has more to say. She’s just trying to think up the right way to get her thoughts across. What makes sense in her mind doesn’t always make sense to others she says it to.
“Frank…when I talk to them, I want you to be there with me.”
“Of course Ambo, always,” I answer. “Do you like your music box?”
“Yeah, thanks, its sitting right by my bed on the side table.”
“I’m glad you like it. Are you tired?”
For a few seconds I hear nothing, “Not right now. Frank, do you still have the knife I gave you?”
“Of course, I’ll keep it forever if I have to,” I answer wondering why she even asked.
“I don’t think you should keep it. Throw is away I don’t ever want it back,” she answer. “I wanted it so badly today it was almost pathetic.”
“I promise I won’t let you get hurt ever again,” I answer.
“Real questions is can you protect me from myself,” Amber asks.
Her words scare the shit out of me. She sounds dead, like she’s giving up. I can’t let her do that. I won’t let her. She has to be okay…she’s got to get better. I need Amber. I cannot loose my best friend.
“I’ll be over later Amber…please just hang on till then,” I beg.
Note: Here's another chapter. I promise things will start to pick up a little bit but I want to show how Amber is trying to figure things out and how she just mainly stays in her room because she doesn't wanna talk to anyonw but Frank. Anyway, hope you enjoyed :)