Chapter Twenty-One: 

 

I did it. I wrote the letter. I wrote every single thing about Larry’s deal. About the money, the opportunity to write and create my own music, and sell albums for a profit. It reminded me of one of the little lovesick girls in the romantic comedies who were so desperate to keep their boyfriends that they wrote them a letter saying how much they loved them. I didn’t want to think of myself that way, but it was true: I am desperate to keep James close to me. I want him to know how much I love him even though I took this deal. 

I couldn’t decide when to give him the letter though. It was only a couple of weeks until the concert, and even still, James and I haven’t chosen a song or anything. And, I would have to time it perfectly. I didn’t want to deliver the letter when he was holding my hand or when we were casually walking down the hallway. I would ruin those precious moments.

Tapping on my phone, the screen lit up and said the time was ten forty-five. It was way past my normal bedtime, but even after I poured my heart and reasoning into this piece of paper, it didn’t make me feel much better about my decision like I originally thought. 

Did I make the right choice? I found myself idly thinking. 

“Of course I did,” I muttered to no one. “Of course,”

Even though I kept reassuring myself that, my stomach churned more. 

I made the right decision. 

You made the right decision for yourself. 

Even if it means leaving your friends. 

And James. 

Weeks passed. The concert was tomorrow. James and I had rehearsed and practiced for when we performed. Still, I had yet to deliver the letter. It was never the right time. You’re running out of chances to deliver it at the “perfect time,” Halo, I scolded myself every day. I was right. I knew it deep down. But I could not bring myself to hand the piece of paper to him. 

What made things even worse was that Larry had come over to my house to finalize the paperwork, certifying that I agree to the terms and agreements representing his music label. It was a bunch of legal ideologies, things I knew nothing about. I mostly let Mom take care of the legal situation, but I still tried to understand. After all, I am the client. I should know what terms I am agreeing to in writing. 

As I clicked the pen to sign my name and initials on the bottom of the final paper, I froze. I knew I wanted this. I knew this would benefit me in too many ways to count, and that Mom would get to stop working extra. But, when I went to press the ink to the parchment, I saw James’ face. His sweet, handsome, tan, freckled face. I gnawed my bottom lip in guilt. 

But even still, I scribbled my signature and initials on the paper. Making my decision final. 

I began to clean out my locker one day. I figured since I would be leaving soon for California after the concert, I might as well gather my belongings. There wasn’t much in my locker, just random, cheap decorations that I thought looked cute. 

As I was taking down some cheap magnets from the door, a small picture fell from it to the floor. I sighed, squatted on the ground, and picked it up. I frowned when I realized what the picture was of. It was a picture of me and James. 

Our faces were so pure. We looked truly in love. James had his face twisted into a squirmish expression as my lips planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a cliche couples photo, that was for sure, but it was his idea so I agreed. I stayed quiet when I saw how the picture turned out though because I secretly thought it was cute. That’s why I kept it. 

Abruptly, my locker door slammed shut above me. I stood up immediately, startled. I was relieved to see that it was Annie and Lissa, their books in hand, as they smiled at me. Their normal, devilish smiles though were different. They seemed sympathetic almost. 

“Hey,” I said. “What are you guys doing?”

Annie shrugged. “We figured we would say a formal goodbye before our best friend leaves for the big L.A.”

“Or San Francisco,” Lissa chimed in. 

My eyes widened. “Wait, how did you–”

“How could we not know someone in our school was offered a record label in California?” Annie said. “Word goes around faster than you think,”

“And also it’s easier to find out when you listen in on the conversation behind Principal Brewer’s office door,” Lissa explained. 

Annie nudged her in the ribs. “Lissa!”

I had to chuckle at that. “Sorry I didn’t tell you guys about it personally,”

Annie didn’t care about that. Instead, she grinned her famous edgy grin. “Nah, don’t bother apologizing.” She changed the subject almost immediately. “Have you told London Boy yet?”

I disregarded the fact that she nicknamed my boyfriend after a Taylor Swift song. “No. I’ve had a hard time with that actually,”

Lissa beamed a smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to tell him!”

I bowed my head. “I hope,”

Annie put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, listen, we’re not upset at all that you’re taking this opportunity. Lissa and I think it’s great that you’ll be producing your own music — that’s the dream! We just want you to know that no matter how famous you get from this, we will always be your best friends,” she quickly added, “if you let us stay in California with you. Los Angeles, preferably.” 

“Or San Francisco,” Lissa repeated again. 

I smiled and wrapped my hands around both of them. Lissa embraced this moment — it was the first group hug between the three of us. Annie, the non-hugger, empathetically patted her hand on my back. That’s a first. 

“I love you guys,” I murmured. “Thanks for being best friends with a JUVIE kid,”

“It was such a struggle,” Annie joked. 

The three of us kept the group hug going. We didn’t want our friendship to end so quickly. It felt like one of us was switching schools, but that was far from it but also similar at the same time. I was moving away from this school, but I wasn’t going to actually attend school after. It was strange, hugging my best friends for the last time. I felt like I wasn’t going to see them ever again. 

No, that’s not true, I thought. You can see them in the summers. I’m sure Larry would permit me to fly them into California in a private jet. 

That is if you’re famous enough to have a private jet, Halo. 

 

After a long, heartfelt day at school, James and I rehearsed our concert piece together. James had his guitar out again, even though I insisted he plays the piano. He was still embarrassed to play in public. I just wished he would believe in his talent for once. The concert was tomorrow, so we needed to make our rehearsal count.  

“You smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name,” I sang into the microphone. “So dim that spotlight, tell me things like I can’t take my eyes off of you. I’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl, who’s desperately in love with you,” I inhaled for the chorus. “Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.”

My boyfriend had insisted we sing this Taylor Swift song together. I would sing the first verse and he would sing the second. I thought it was a pretty cliche song, but also because it reminded me of the decision I had made that would ruin our relationship. I would become a superstar and James would still be here, in high school, where I wasn’t. 

James stopped strumming once I sang the chorus. “That was great,” he said. “Do you think you could go up an octave?”

“Do you really think I can handle that?”

He gave me one of those “are you serious?” looks. Obviously, he thought I could handle going up an octave for this piece. 

“Fine,” I muttered, turning back to the microphone. “I’ll sing up an octave if it makes my boyfriend happy,”

“Wait,” James said, standing up and leaning his guitar against the stool. 

“What?”

“I just wanted to say how beautiful you look today,” he replied, smirking.

His words were like a stab at my heart. I chuckled awkwardly, even still not used to his random compliments on my beauty (which was average at best). “Thanks,” I said, immediately trying to change the conversation.

He looked at me skeptically, like somehow he could read my mind. “Is something wrong?” James asked, frowning. 

“Nope. Nothing at all,” LIES! my mind screamed. 

James intertwined my fingers in his, clearly seeing past my excuses. His deep blue irises stared directly into my mucky brown eyes. “Halo, are you all right?” he asked. “Are you nervous about performing? If so, don’t worry–”

“I’m not nervous about performing, James,” I interjected, clarifying that wasn’t the issue. Is now the time? Should I tell him? 

It seemed like the utmost perfect opportunity to give him the letter. He has already brought up an opening for me to hand it out. James’ hands were still holding onto mine — they were warmer than usual. Or were my hands hotter? I honestly couldn’t tell. 

James looked at me expectantly, as if he was slowly waiting for me to say something. Or did he already know my secret? Did the word really get around? If he knows, why didn’t he bring it up? Numerous “what-ifs” scrambled through my mind. I was going crazy. I was losing my mind. All because of a stupid record label in California. 

“You know you can tell me anything,” his grip on my hand tightened. “I’m your boyfriend, Halo,”

There it is. That word. Boyfriend. The word I still haven’t got used to after a couple weeks. I knew I loved James — with all of my heart. But everything in me was forcing me to keep my mouth shut. It was like I wasn’t entirely in control of my body. Is this what love truly feels like? 

“James, I have to tell you something,”

I almost cupped my hand over my mouth. But I didn’t. This was it. I was finally going to give him the letter I wrote when I couldn’t go to sleep late at night. With my spare hand, I reached inside my hoodie pocket, gripping the paper. I almost crumbled it beneath my grasp. 

“You can tell me anything,” James repeated. 

My stomach churned, almost as if I was going to puke. I clenched my teeth and blurted out the words I had been choking back for weeks. 

“I signed under a record label in California,”

James dropped my hand. His blue eyes widened with shock — or horror. Possibly both. He averted his gaze to the ground and began chuckling darkly. “California?” he laughed hysterically. “That’s all the way across the country! What were you thinking?”

“I…” I wanted to tell him that it was best for me, but the words didn’t form. Instead, I ripped the envelope from inside my jacket and handed it to him. 

James’ demeanor had changed drastically: he was angry. At me. He almost seemed annoyed. I didn’t blame him though. This was bad for our relationship. I was the one who told him I didn’t want to become famous after what he felt like after the video blew up. “What’s this?” he asked, taking it hastily. 

“A letter,” I murmured. I felt like a whipped dog. 

“What’s it for? Can’t you just explain this stupid decision you made yourself?”

I gnawed my lip, holding back tears. I’m a terrible girlfriend. “I wish I could.”

Abruptly, the door of the music room opened. The two of us whirled around. Clearly whoever decided to stop by came at the wrong time. I saw it was Principal Brewer in the doorway. 

“Miss Nelson,” my principal said. “Mr. Goldstein is here to pick you up from school,”

James fixed his gaze back at me. “Goldstein?”

“My manager,” I muttered. I had no idea Larry was going to take me home. Why now of all times? I complained in my head. 

Obediently, I stepped down from the platform and met Principal Brewer. As I was walking across the room, I heard James murmur, “You can forget about performing together at the concert,”

I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. I clenched my teeth together and bit my tongue, trying to cause pain to subside the tears. It worked in the past when I was homesick during my first days in JUVIE. Now, it was harder. And here I thought the reason I couldn’t tell James why I signed with the record label was that I was in love with him. 

Forget love. 

You can’t love anyone if you don’t have a boyfriend. 

 

Epilogue: 

 

I didn’t let a single tear stray. Even as I rode home in Larry’s limo he provided me, which had free candy, chips, soda, everything you could imagine. It was a goldmine. But, I had nothing to eat or drink during the drive. Larry kept trying to get me to eat, but I lied and told him I’m on a diet. 

The limo was as glamorous as the movies depicted it. It had luxurious leather seats, so soft it felt like sitting on a cloud. It even had headphones on one of the doors so you could listen to your own music. I felt like I was being spoiled. But now, I guess I’m a star. It’s my job to be spoiled. It reminded me of how Alice Anne — James’ ex-girlfriend — used to be. 

Ex-girlfriend. 

I’m now one of James’ ex-girlfriends. 

Breakups are exactly how they’re made out to be: painful. More than that actually. It feels like my heart has split in two — like my life has ended short. I knew I was probably being dramatic, but I also knew my sadness had some generosity to it as well. 

I stared out the window, houses blowing past me in a blur. I didn’t know who lived there, but now that I was leaving in a couple days, I wanted to know. I wanted to know who else I was abandoning. I was going to leave Maryland…forever. I most likely was never coming back. All the things you hear about celebrities rising to stardom never mentions them returning to their hometown. 

Once we arrived home, I immediately ran upstairs and cried into my pillow for what seemed like hours. No, I didn’t cry — I sobbed. I sobbed for hours and hours into the soft fabric of my pillow. The sheets of my bed were soaked with tears. I didn’t know how many droplets of water fell from my eyes until now. 

The tears were ugly. I was never considered an “ugly crier,” but to be fair, I never really cried. This was one of the rare occasions this happened. The only other time I cried was when I was a baby. That, and when I was in JUVIE my first night. I had sobbed into the steel bed that hung off the wall until I was dry. I was ashamed of what I had done. I know I had betrayed James. But it was best for me. That was all I knew. 

After my crying had subsided, someone knocked on my door. Mom. She peered the door open, hinges creaking slowly, into my nearly bare room due to packing for California. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

I sniffled loudly and rubbed the wet spots on my cheeks. “Yes,” I sound like I have a sinus infection. 

Mom smiled warmly and sat down on my bed beside me. “What happened?”

I sniffled again and sat upright. “I told James about the record label and…” The thought of his spite toward me after I told him made me want to cry all over again. I felt the tears begin to rise up. They almost flowed out, but my mother mentally finished my sentence before they ebbed down my cheeks. 

“No need to say anymore,” she said. “I’m so sorry, angel,” She surrounded me in a comforting embrace, wrapping her warmth around me. 

“S’not your fault, Mom,”

She parted her arms from my body. “Well,” Mom began. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I probably looked puffy-eyed and snotty-nosed. 

“There are two ways you can go about a breakup,” she said. “You can either forget about him and move on with a new life,” Mom suggested, and I could already tell she was talking about the move to California. “Or you can stay hung up on him and never carry on with your life. Which will it be?”

I couldn’t think about moving on at this point. But, I had no other choice. I was leaving across the country in two days. I either had to forget about James or remember him forever and trail my memories of him behind me like a heavy bag. Either decision I couldn’t decide on. It was like I was being forced to pick one or the other — which I was. But even still, the weight was on my shoulders to make the correct choice. 

“Do you remember the dress you bought me?”

 

The magenta dress fit me perfectly. It wrapped around every curve and ended midway past my thighs. I stared at myself in the mirror: I looked like a movie star. A day had passed and tonight was the concert. During that time, I had decided to choose my own song to sing at the concert. I wasn’t going to make James jealous or anything of that sort. I wasn’t going to forget about him or stay hung up on him either. I simply just wanted to perform in Maryland one last time before I left. 

Everything looked perfect. Well, everything except my frizzy mop of hair. I have and still do hate my long hair. I have despised it since birth. But, I was never allowed to do anything because I was in JUVIE a fraction of my life and also my mother would never let me. 

I ran into the bathroom, feeling a rush of adrenaline in my veins suddenly. Opening every drawer I could find, I finally found a pair of scissors. With a few brushstrokes through my hair, I lifted up the locks, opened the scissors, and snipped through the golden mop. Strands of blonde hair fell from my head to the bathroom tile, erasing a part of my childhood.  

California is a place for new beginnings. 

Long hair isn’t one of them. 

Once I was done giving myself a decent haircut, I looked in the mirror above the sink. I didn’t look half bad. It was a little choppy at the ends, but it gave my demeanor an edge to it. My long, wavy, blonde hair was now a split-ended bob that made me look like an adult. 

“Perfect,” I whispered. 

When I ran downstairs, Mom stared at me in shock. I gestured to her the dress and did a couple model poses. “What do you think?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?!” she shrieked. 

I shrugged. “California is a place for new beginnings, Mom,”

She slowly walked up to me and I got ready for the worst scolding ever. Fingers shaking, Mom put her hand to my cheek and cupped it softly. I exhaled. Mom managed a smile, but I knew she was dying slowly on the inside. Her heart was probably going a million miles witnessing what I had done. But still, she forced herself to be content with my decision. 

“You look so…grown up,” she muttered. 

I smiled warmly back at her. Immediately, I changed the subject and said, “The concert. Come on, Mom! Let’s go!”

 

Within minutes, Mom and I made it to the concert. I signed in on the clipboard backstage. When I wrote my name, I saw James had already written his own. He was still going to perform. I noted that the song he was singing was Bradley Cooper’s “Maybe It’s Time.” But I quickly blinked those thoughts away. Tonight wasn’t about James — it was about my final performance at home. 

I walked backstage and began to vocalize before I performed. It wasn’t long before a familiar figure entered my perspective. I tried to pretend he wasn’t there, that he was gone and that I didn’t have to see his angered face. But his blue irises placated my vision. 

I looked back at James. His arms were crossed, almost as if he was a pouting child. But that was far from ever thinking. He wore a dress shirt similar to the one he had on during our first performance together while wearing a pair of dark gray trousers. Slung over his shoulder was his guitar, still shining like the sun. 

“I see you cut your hair,” he muttered like a mother scolded him. But I didn’t think such things: James’ mother is dead. 

“James, can we please just not talk? Like, at all?” I knew I was being rude, but I didn’t want to bring in any drama before my final performance. 

“What is there not to talk about, Halo?” he shouted. “You signed under a record label after you told me you had no interest in being famous and after what I told you when the video went viral. What made you decide?” James’ voice went soft. Almost like a whisper. “What made you not choose me?”

I froze. I was on the verge of tears again, but I held them back. “Didn’t you read the letter?” I croaked out. 

“Lord, no, I didn’t read the stupid letter!” James spat. “You expect me to read your emotions scribbled on paper like a middle-schooler? Nonetheless, a huge decision you made without telling me that includes you moving all the way across the country?” He slowed his breath, controlling his heartbeat. “I love you, Halo. I thought you loved me.”

“I never said I did,”

At that moment, I wished I had kept my mouth shut. Those final words I spoke made James’ expression change drastically. He looked like someone had slapped him across the face and told him he was diagnosed with a deadly disease at the same time. I should have bit the words back. But I didn’t. 

I may have just ruined the fractions left of our romantic relationship. 

A girl managing backstage ran past me in a blur, clearly not seeing the heartbreak between James and I. “Halo Nelson, you’re up next,”

I didn’t bother to nod in thanks. The two of us just stared at each other, both feeling a strong disregard for my words. Neither of us said anything afterward — just complete silence. Even though there were many murmurs and noises backstage, along with the noisy crowd at the front of the stage. 

Inching my chin down and choking back tears, I said softly, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to perform in front of a crowd,”

“It’ll be good practice for when you’re selling out in stadiums,” he fired back bitterly. 

I didn’t reply. Instead, I ignored him and walked toward the stage. 

The spotlight shined on me, almost effacing my eyesight. I brushed away the bright light and made my way to the piano at the center. I sat down on the seat, brought my shoulders back, took in a deep breath, and studied the sheet music in the blink of an eye. 

“Okay,” I whispered, inaudible to the microphone, and daring not to let the tears fall. “You got this,”

And with that, my fingers danced over the keys. 

“Wish I could,” I sang. “I could’ve said goodbye. I would’ve said what I wanted to. Maybe even cried for you…”

The rest of the song was drowned out from my ears. I knew the lyrics by heart. I still kept with the tune and melody of the piano and the song. But, the only thing that was on my mind was what I wrote in the letter. The words flashed before my eyes, almost as if I knew it as well as the song I was singing. 

 

Dear James,

 

I know this is stupid of me writing down my feelings in a letter, but I couldn’t find any other way to tell you. If you’re reading this, you probably already know that I took a deal with a record label. You’re probably wondering why I did that. Well, it’s kind of…complicated. 

I mainly took the offer for the money. I know that sounds greedy, but let me explain. My mom will sometimes work double, even triple shifts a night. Just to put food on the table. I don’t want her to be sixty and still working as a child under manual labor. I want her to be in a comfortable place with her finances. 

I took the deal not only to become famous in the end but to also have the opportunity to produce my own music. I know I told you that I didn’t want to be famous after your feelings toward our video, but this was an offer I could not refuse. I had the chance to create my own songs and have a profit that I could spend myself or deposit to my mom. 

I know you’re probably thinking that I betrayed you. Which is true. You have every right to be mad at me if you are. I deserve every ounce. You told me once that you loved me. Those words are the ones I cherish most from your lips. I never had the chance to tell you that I love you too. I always have. I have the rush of adrenaline in my veins whenever you enter the room, whenever you smile that stupid grin, whenever you make a short joke about me, whenever you strum the guitar or play the piano, and when you sing…my heartbeat doubles. There is no way to describe how deep my love goes for you. 

I hope you can understand why I took this opportunity. 

Even though I’ll be all the way across the country, just remember, I’ll never forget you.

I love you,

Always. 

 

“I’ll never love again,” I sang softly, concluding my piece. 

Somehow, although I didn’t mean for this song to mirror my personal life, I felt a connection. I feel like I truly would never love someone as I did James. He was one of those people you only meet once in your lifetime. I will never find someone who is like James that I will have that special bond. 

No matter whose paths I may cross with, I will never have a person with that charismatic grin, the freckled face, the curly black hair, the confident demeanor. I will never meet that special person who I will love. 

I will never love again.