Disclaimer: The following is a prequel to Choices The Freshman and The Sophomore stories. It is a fictional adaptation. I do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Jo, Kyle or Nicole. All of the characters, story line and events were originally developed by me, some areas in part with @maxattack-powell, in conjuction to her adaptation of The Freshman.
Chapter 2: Sorry Not Sorry
Chris rings the doorbell and stuffs his hands inside his Cherryfield High letterman’s jacket. It’s the middle of October and the weather has quickly changed in Maine, bringing an ever present chill to the air. He huffs and sees his breath produce a tiny cloud in front of him. It’s dark outside and the light hanging above the door barely provided enough glow to allow him to see the steps and make his way up. Leaves litter the wood porch everywhere, scattering as the wind blows.
He waits on the porch, looking around as he hears movement from within.
The door swings open and a petite, brunette in her late 40’s smiles at him. Her resemblance to her offspring is uncanny.
“Chris! Hey come on in!” She greets warmly.
“Hello Mrs. Moore,” Chris replies. She seems to light up from his charm.
“I’m just finishing up dinner, you can join us if you’d like. I’m sure you are hungry after practice,” she says as Chris walks in and she closes the door behind him. He waits in the entryway and smiles. The smell of something home-cooked and no doubt amazing tickles his nostrils.
“I appreciate that, thank you!” He says, genuinely glad for the invite but also expecting it. After a grueling practice, he was ravenous. Dinners with Nichole and her family were not uncommon.
“Nichole! Chris is here!” Mrs. Moore shouts up the stairs before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Hello Mr. Moore.” He waves and greets a gentleman sitting in a recliner in the next room watching playoff baseball. He wears thin rimmed glasses and has an expanding bald spot on the top of his head, but his face is warm and friendly.
“Chris! Good to see you son,” He responds. “Damn Yankees got my blood pressure up right now!”
Chris laughs and makes his way towards the room to peak at the TV. He whistles when he sees the score. “Tied 6-all in the 8th. Brutal!”
“You’ve got a pretty big game this week yourself! Harrington for the district title!”
“Yes sir,” Chris smiles. “I think we can handle them though.”
“I know you can,” Mr. Moore responds. “With that arm of yours, it’s a wonder you don’t have offers from other schools besides Hartfeld!”
Chris smiles ruefully. “I’m just glad for the opportunity to play D1 ball to be honest. Anywhere.”
He hears something shuffle behind him and looks over to see Nichole standing in the entryway silently.
“Hey!” His smile expands.
“Hi….” She says cautiously. Chris can instantly sense from everything about her posture, to her lack of eye contact to the tone of her voice that something is wrong. “Could we uh, go down to the basement and talk?” Nichole looks up at him, her lips tucked as she exhales slowly out her nose.
His head tilts to the side and he frowns slightly. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go….”
She doesn’t wait, turning instantly and heading downstairs to the basement. Once there she opens the door and pulls the chain to turn on the tiny overhead light.
Chris descends behind her, closing the door for privacy. With each step he feels something heavier almost sitting on his shoulders. He watches her ponytail sway as she walks, a feeling of dread creeping into his being.
At the bottom of the stairs, she turns and faces him.
“Um, could you have a seat?” She says scrunching her nose some. She makes a bridge with her fingers, a nervous habit as she clears her throat.
“Nikki, what’s this about?” The frown lines in his forehead deepen.
“Please…” she peers up at him. “Sit.”
Chris sucks at the inside of his cheek and then takes a seat on the edge of the sofa. His body is rigid, his gaze almost burning a hole into her as he waits for her to talk. He puts his elbows on his knees and a few seconds pass before she begins.
“So, today…” She starts and paces to the other side of the room slowly. “I got my early admissions acceptance letter from UCLA,” she slowly turns to face him. “Chris, I got in.” She lifts her eyebrows as she finally looks at him.
“Sweetheart, that’s awesome! I’m so proud of you!” He stands and takes a step ready to give her a congratulatory hug but she puts her hands up and takes a step back. He frowns again slowly lowering his arms and halting his steps. He doesn’t return to his seat. Instead he stands right in front of her, towering over her. But his shoulders slowly drop. “I…I don’t understand, aren’t you happy?” he asks confused.
“I am,” she says nodding. “Like, Chris I really, really am. This is my dream. I want to go to UCLA. Not…not Hartfeld….” She explains.
He takes in her words, nodding but trying to remain positive. “That’s okay. I want you to live your dream. If UCLA is what you want, then that’s where you need to be Nichole. I would never stop you from doing what makes you happy, you know that baby,” he says. She looks away from him again. She can hear sincerity and confusion lacing each word he speaks.
He looks at her, not looking at him. He takes a deep breath, his mind running through a laundry list of reasons as to what could be wrong.
His head snaps up. “Is it the distance? Are you worried about what that would do to us? Because Nichole we can work this out whatever way we need to. Sure we won’t be able to see each other as much but breaks and summer-“
“It’s not the distance,” she shakes her head and clinches her eyes shut. “Chris….”
“Then what?” he questions. His words are barely louder than a whisper. “Nikki…”
She gulps and takes another deep breath. She shakes her head and looks at the floor.
“Nikki….” He says gently again. He reaches up to touch her cheek but she steps back again away from him.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she finally utters. “Us. I don’t want this anymore,” she says. She finally looks up at him, curious about his reaction. She sees anguish. She sees a deep hurt. She sees the face of a young man stunned into silence.
She paces to the other side of the room, needing more space between her and him. He stands, unable to speak, for a minute longer before slowly turning and looking at her.
“I don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head rapidly. “I don’t understand at all. Did I….?” he pauses as he thinks. His mind is like a rolodex, spinning over the events of the last few weeks, trying to think of the offense he caused. What could he have done to lead to this? “Did I do something wrong?” His eyes meet hers, dancing with bewilderment.
“No….You didn’t do anything wrong, Chris,” Nichole says trying to keep herself together. Her back straightens to hold on to her resolve. This has to happen.
“Then why?!” his voice is suddenly a pained shout. He throws his hands out, looking to her for a response.
“When I went to LA, for my campus visit in July, it started then. This feeling like there’s so much more out there. There’s so much world and so many more people to meet. Cherryfield felt so small ever since I got back. I started thinking about our future. Chris, what would we miss out on if we tried to continue this? You at Hartfeld, me at UCLA. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on life and not go to parties and enjoy meeting new people because you are trying to hold on to what we had in high school.”
“Don’t do that,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t you fucking stand there and try to make this like you are doing this to protect me! This is all about you and what you want! You want your freedom!” his voice raises again.
“Yes,” she snaps back calmly. “You’re right. I do.”
She bites her lips as she sees his reaction. His lips are tight to prevent a tremble and his eyes shimmer but not with the sparkle of happiness as they usually do. He’s trying to hold in the tears that threaten to spill out.
“Three days ago…in this basement…you were curled up in my arms, telling me you loved me,” he takes a deep breath but as he exhales you can hear the unsteadiness in it.
“I do care about you Chris,” she says.
“Care?” He questions , his head tilting to the side. He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Care? What happened to love Nichole?”
“We’re just high school seniors Chris….” She shakes her head and looks down at the floor.
He runs a hand over his hair and rubs at the back of his neck. He opens his mouth to speak but he can’t find the words. He tries to hide the sniffle he makes by turning away from her and wiping quickly at his eyes.
“After everything Nichole….” He glances back at her, unable to look at her for long. He feels like he might break down if he does. “After everything….” He blinks back the tears forming again. “Are you even sorry?” He finally looks at her, waiting.
She makes eye contact silently. Several heartbeats later, he sees the answer in her eyes.
He lets out a laugh. “Alright then,” he nods and sucks at his teeth. “Bye Nichole.” He says and heads up the stairs.
He makes his way up, taking some of them two at a time. When he reaches the entry way, Mrs. Moore pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Dinner is almost-“
She notes the urgency in Chris’s stride and his uncharacteristically stoic face and cuts off her sentence.
“Chris?” She calls after him but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look back. He opens the front door, not bothering to close it, and jogs down the steps of Nichole’s home for the last time. He pulls his keys from his pocket and climbs into the driver’s seat. As he cranks up, the front door swings further open. A baffled Mrs. Moore looks on as his backs away quickly, turns and speeds down the road.
***
He didn’t drive home immediately. He just drove. He drove with no destination in mind. He went down a few back roads, his mind racing and replaying every word she said. She was so cold, so unbothered by his feelings or even their three year past together. He reaches out a hand and flexes it before gripping the steering wheel again. As he does, he notices it slightly shaking.
He is finally halted on his journey by a train crossing. He sits at the stop, red lights flashing as the horn from the locomotive blows loudly. Chris doesn’t even hear it. It passes in front of him, the velocity of it causing his jeep to rock slowly from side to side. Having to sit still, he finally feels it. The overwhelming grief swallows him. Another person he loves has walked away from him without warning.
Suddenly his sadness explodes into anger. He punches at the ceiling of his jeep and throws his head back onto the head rest. He runs his hands over his face. He feels the tears coming again but a car horn behind him snaps him back to the present. The train has passed and they are clear to go.
With a heavy heart, he makes a right turn and begins the journey home.
***
When he walks into the door of his house, his sister instantly bounds onto her feet to greet her big brother.
“Chris!” Jo exclaims. She throws her arms around his waist and looks up at him. “Okay, who do you think would win in a fight between Harry Potter and Wonder Woman? I said Wonder Woman because she’s strong and has magic powers but Kyle said Harry Potter because he could just use magic to be sneaky and beat her!” The 7-year-old is bouncing on her toes as she grips him, her trademark backwards ball cap in place. Her hair is a long, dark blonde and her eyes are blue like her older sibling’s. She is missing two teeth on the right side of her mouth. Chris is her hero. Her big brother can do anything.
But her big brother doesn’t hear her question, barely even feels her arms wrapped around him.
Jo’s smile begins to fade as she sees the deadness in her brother’s gaze. His eyes are pink and there are splotches of red around them and his nose. She looks up at him and concern causes her brow to crease.
“Chris?” she asks, hoping to bring him back to reality.
“Hey Jo,” he tries to smile, not having hear a single word she said. He pats her on the back absentmindedly as he pulls free from her grip.
Kyle, his 9-year-old younger brother, is sitting on the sofa playing a video game. He is the spitting image of Chris, the only difference, he has freckles around his nose and his hair is more blonde than brown like his brother. Even Kyle detects the angst within his brother and has stopped playing the game to study him.
His mother exits the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I thought I heard you come in, it’s almost done, I wasn’t sure if you had eaten at Nichole’s.” At the mention of her name, Chris visibly winces.
“Uh, I’m making….” She trails off. “Christopher?” She asks, unable to hide a mother’s worry. “Is everything okay?”
He clears his throat and finally makes eye contact with her. Jo is at his side and grasps his hand, holding on and looking up at him.
“Um….” Chris raises his eyebrows still trying to wrap his head around it. “Nichole just broke up with me,” he nods and frowns. Saying it out loud hurt just as bad as the moment it happened. He had hoped maybe somehow, none of this was real. He looks down at the floor. His mother raises a hand to her open mouth.
“What?!” Jo shouts. She squeezes Chris’s hand harder. “She can’t do that!”
Chris looks over at her and despite his heartache, lets out a genuine chuckle. “It kind of happens to people some times.”
His mother is still looking at him with concern. “Are you, okay? Did something happen?”
Chris doesn’t answer the first part of that question. “She’s going to another college. Doesn’t want to be tied down any more,” he licks his suddenly dry lips.
“Well, she’s stupid!” Jo says emphatically.
Chris throws an arm around her. Ever his little defender.
“I’m so sorry, Chris,” his mother says genuinely. “Let’s get you some supper. It’s one of your favorites. Chicken parmesan!”
“Thanks Mah, but uh, I’m not hungry…I’m just gonna head to bed,” Chris nods not looking at any of them. He moves through the living room and to his room, he flips on the light and closes and locks his door, not wanting any visitors for the rest of the night.
As he sits on the edge of his bed, still trying to grasp what happened, he looks at the wall above his desk. A series of pictures of him and Nichole, hugging, kissing, playing in the snow, posing at junior prom are all lined up. The happy couple in the photos seem oblivious to the heartache of the young man peering back at them. He stands and quickly yanks each one down.