Rule #20: Rebels Don't Apologize
Sorry is not in the dictionary.
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Two days later, my parents still haven't come to my room to ground me. In fact, not even Melody's mentioned the fact that I punched Archer Raine in the face. I'm beginning to believe in the impossible - that he never told anybody. I relay this information to my friends over text.
Irene: wow, impressive. this Archer is a cool guy.
Peyton: That's not the point.
Andrew: nvrmnd that was it a gud pnch?
Peyton: That's not the point either.
Irene: what's the point?
Peyton: I think I took it too far.
Andrew: ya, u usually do. rembr that time when u gave that guy a concussion at that protest b/c he sed that animal shelters r a waste of taxpayers money.
Peyton: Yeah, but he deserved it.
Irene: And Archer didn't?
I groan and flop down on my bed. Sure he was annoying and invading my personal space, but does that really give me a right to punch? And given the fact that he didn't even rat me out, it makes me feel even worse.
Peyton: Maybe I should I apologize.
Irene: wow
Andrew: WHAT????
Irene: our baby Peyton is growing up.
Andrew: YOU NEVER APOLOGIZE
Jake: don't do it man.
Andrew: DO NOT APOLOGIZE.
Peyton: I'm going to apologize.
I turn my phone off and close my eyes, placing my arm on my forehead. My heart sinks at the memory of Archer's stunned face when I punched him. It was wrong. He grabbed my wrist. It's nothing compared to the things people have done to me in the past.
It's my fault.
I formulate a plan in my head.
How to Apologize to Your Enemy:
1) Choose the right outfit. It has to be intimidating, but well-meaning. Suggestions include a nice white blouse and black jeans.
2) Ring the doorbell ONE TIME.
3) Greet the enemy politely, with small talk such as "How do you do?" or "That's a nice pocket square you have there." If the enemy seems hostile, maintain a defensive position, but do not attempt to flee.
4) Say the S-word.
5) Get the hell out of there before the enemy decides to take revenge.
Simple.
Still, I don't feel good about this. I can't remember the last time I ever apologized to somebody.
I scrunch up my nose at my reflection. Although I've hid my hair under a basketball hat and I'm wearing my usual black and white outfit, my appearance still seems ridiculous.
Stupid pink hair.
Stupid Melody.
With a shake of my head, I grab my boots and step outside.
I narrow my eyes at the sky. The air is slightly crisper today. Dark clouds roll in from the horizon, casting shadows all over the beach. The waves are becoming higher, crashing against the shore and spraying cold foam everywhere. It seems like it's going to rain in a few hours.
A sense of familiarity runs over me as I walk to Archer's house. This is probably the third time I came over here. it's a strange feeling. In Chicago, I didn't even know my neighbors names. I run up the steps and bang on the door.
Oh wait. I wasn't supposed to do that.
There goes step two.
"Jesus, I'm coming, calm your - oh," Julia, Archer's little sister, swing open the door. "What do you want?"
"Archer."
She raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. "I need to tell him something."
"Are you going to confess your undying love for him?"
"No."
"Whatever," She starts walk away. "He's up in his room. Take off your boots before you go."
"Okay."
When she's out of eyesight, I walk upstairs, making sure to keep my boots on. I need to make a quick escape if anything goes wrong.
Most of the doors are white and simple, but one of them pops. It's painted red and has white edges, with a giant black A in the middle and a bow and arrow right under. Damn. That man is dramatic.
I knock on the door.
There's no answer, but I open it anyways.
Almost immediately, Buster, Archer's dog, dashes up to me. I get down to meet him halfway. While he nuzzles my face, I take my opportunity to look around Archer's room.
It's covered with artwork.
There are drawings on desks, photographs on shelves and tons of unfinished sketches lying everywhere. Almost everything is painted or drawn on, including his bookshelf. His white walls are covered in giant murals. All of them have large landscapes painted on them, except the one behind his bed, which has a window that takes up nearly half of the wall.
Archer's sleeping. He opens one eye when he sees me.
Shoot. Should I engage in step three?
"Peyton?" Archer's voice is low and slurred from his nap.
"I like your pocket-square."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to apologize," I stand up and pat Buster's head.
Archer sits up fully on his bed, blinking.
I adjust my hat.
"Okay." He says.
We stare at each other.
"What?" I finally ask.
"I'm waiting for my apology."
"I just said it."
"No. No, you didn't."
"Oh." I think back. "Well - whatever, it's all you're going to get. So, uh, bye."
There goes step four.
Then, I scramble from the room. I don't even manage to get to the staircase when the door slams open. Archer grabs my wrist turning my room. I snatch my hand away and glare at him. He takes a step back.
"Right, no touching," His hair and pajamas are all ruffled from when he's been sleeping. I try not to stare.
Just say it, Peyton. But just as I'm about to say the word, he interrupts me.
"You know, I have an idea on how you can make it up to me."
"Make up what?"
"Punching me."
"What? Why would I do that?"
"Because your apology was shit."
"You don't even look that hurt," I say, examining his face. There's nothing that indicts that I punched, which kind of makes me fear for my talent. I can't believe I didn't even leave a bruise.
"Remember how I asked if you wanted to ride a horse the other day?"
"No. I usually don't remember things outside the span of twenty-four hours."
He ignores me. "Well, today, you're going to take me up on my offer."
"I am? Wait, let me think about this." I need to make a pro and cons list.
Pros to Agreeing to Archer's Offer:
1) I get to ride a horse.
2) Uh...
"You know, I told my parents I got hurt when I fell into a tree. But I reveal the truth to them any moment and they're probably tell your parents in return so -"
"Are you blackmailing me?"
"Yes."
"Fine. I'll do it. But only this once."
He nods, pleased, and walks to the backyard, pajamas and all.
And there goes step five.
I wonder if I should text Irene, Jake or Andrew about this. But Andrew would say "I told you so", Jake would be impressed with Archer and Irene would just laugh on my behalf. So instead, Buster and I follow Archer to the backyard. He runs off and plays with the waves, which become higher and higher every minute.
Thunder cackles from the distance.
Maybe I can use the upcoming storm for an excuse to leave early. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm kind of excited.
A gust of wind nearly blows my hat off.
Right when I finish tucking all my hair under my hat, Archer comes out of the stables with a fully equipped Brutus the horse. He has a helmet in one hand and the reins in another. He hands me the helmet and ties Brutus's reins to a tree nearby.
I reach out for the helmet but he puts it on my head. Before I can protest, he tucks the two straps under my chin and ties them together. I glare at him. Ignorant to my angry ramblings, he pats the helmet lightly.
"The helmet's a little big on you."
"Probably because of how massive your head is."
He smiles, unperturbed. "I'm going to get an extra helmet. Don't climb on Brutus while I'm gone."
"Okay."
I watch him disappear into the back doors before offering Brutus the back of my hand again. I think he remembers me since he nuzzles it gently.
"Hi again," I whisper. "I'm going to get on you right now, okay? So stay still."
I press my foot to the side and tug my self up using the reins. It takes me three tries before I swing my leg over and when I'm finally on his saddle, I'm backwards. This is harder than I expected it to be. Just when I'm in position, the backyard door opens again.
"Peyton," Archer sighs exasperatedly. The sand crunches beneath his feet as he comes closer. I can't see him until comes to Brutus's side. "Can't you stay still for a minute?"
"It was hardly one minute," I protest, holding on to Brutus's reins with all my might. I can feel his weight shift under me. "Am I doing this right? What do I do to get him going?"
"Hang on."
Then, with much more ease than I had, he mounts the horse. Within seconds, he sits behind me, warmth radiating from his body. His chin is right above my head. This is the closest I've been to anybody, much less a boy, in years.
This wasn't part of the plan.
"Wait, I'm the one who's supposed be riding the horse. Not you. "
"I am," He kicks my feet of the stirrup so that they're forced to dangle in midair. Then, he puts his own feet where mine were. "But, I need to show you what it's supposed be like before you try it yourself."
"What? How long is this going to take?"
"I don't know - stop moving so much."
"It's not my fault. I wanted to be in the back."
"Well, you could have been, if you followed by instructions and didn't mount Brutus before I arrived. Now let go of the reins."
I hesitate, then let go, choosing to put my hands around Brutus's mane instead.
Archer reaches around my body and grabs a hold of the reins. His arms brush against my waist and in return, my whole body warms up. I focus on patting Brutus and not on Archer and his sculptured chest.
Archer snaps the reins and Brutus lurches forwards.
He gallops across the beach, sending sand flying. Wind howls in my ears, drowning out the sound of my racing heart. His hooves crash against the water, spraying water to my boots and I close my eyes, listening to the rumble of thunder.
Archer asks something that I can't decipher.
"What?" I open my eyes.
Lightening strikes.
A flash of white strikes the ocean, illuminating the beach and temporarily blinding me. Before I can even gasp, Brutus jerks and Archer and I are sent tumbling backwards. I reach out to grab something, but there's nothing there so I end up tumbling right on to Archer as he collapses upon the sand.
A sharp pain washes over my head, making me so dizzy that I can't tell right from left. I feel sick all of a sudden, but roll to my side so that Archer doesn't get crushed. While I'm gasping for air, Archer runs over to Brutus and calms him down.
Some of pink hair has escaped my helmet. They fly in front of my face and I tuck them behind my ear as I push myself up. My legs are shaking. Slightly.
"Are you okay?" Archer says, brushing back his hair. His helmet has fallen off.
I nod. "How's Brutus?"
"Startled. But fine."
Another bolt of lighting makes us look up.
Raindrops start falling from the sky.
I take my helmet off. Silently, we walk back to the stables. Buster follows us, running between Archer's legs than nuzzling mine. I reach down to pet him while Archer begins to unload Brutus's equipment.
My head hurts like hell. It's making me worried. Maybe I do have a concussion. I'll have to mention this to my mother later.
"I need to go," I say and hand him my helmet. "You're not going to tell your parents about me, right?"
"Right."
"Okay," I hesitate. "And - and I'm sorry that I punched you."
He looks up. Our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat.
"Thank you."
I nod. "Bye."
And then I run back to my house again.
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And here's the new chapter! This was one of the first scenes I had in mind when I was first writing this story. I'm glad it's finally out.
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You know who he is. Let's all help to keep him alive.
Thanks for reading!
QotC: Have you ever been blackmailed/blackmailed somebody before?