Not the End (Not Alone Novellas Book 1) Read online

  “Could we…” he stops and runs his fingers through his hair. “Want to give me that motorcycle ride now?”

  “Right now?” I ask him. I haven’t seen him since Friday when I finally stood up to Janice—he tried to talk to me after I was done, but I asked him for some space. I can only slay one dragon at a time.

  “No time like the present,” he says with a smile.

  “Okay,” I respond. I might as well face this now rather than later.

  He looks shocked. “Really?”

  “I’m feeling particularly courageous today, so why not?” Actually, I can think of a few reasons, but I’m not sure if they’re real or not so for now, I’ll ignore them.

  “Cool. Um…there’s a really cool place I want to take you to,” he says, frowning slightly.

  I fold my arms across my chest. “I said courageous, but I’m not sure it extends quite that far.”

  “You’ll love it,” he says nervously.

  The badgered me cowers away because I’ve heard similar promises before—but the stronger, bolder, former me steps up to the plate. “Okay.”

  “I’ll give you directions as you drive.”

  I hop on my bike; Aron climbs on behind me. He slides his hands around my waist to hold onto me, and the butterflies in my stomach launch into somersault mode. I knew this guy would be trouble.

  Then again, he’s been nothing but nice to me, even helping me out when I confronted Janice. He didn’t have to say what he did to her, didn’t have to have my back. But he did.

  Maybe I can be friends with him.

  Maybe he deserves a chance.

  “Pull over here,” Aron shouts, leaning closer to be heard over the wind.

  “Right here?” I yell back.

  “Yes!”

  I pull over next to a field full of flowers in the middle of nowhere. “What is this place?” I ask, taking off my helmet.

  “It’s one of my favorite spots.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I spent a lot of time here last year.”

  I can tell there’s more to that statement—a story he’s maybe not willing to share right now.

  “Follow me,” he says, moving into the field. He walks through the flowers until he reaches the middle, then shrugs off his bag and drops it on the ground. Unzipping it, he retrieves a blanket.

  Stepping back warily, I cross my arms over my chest. “You had a blanket in there this whole time?”

  He peers up at me, smiling. “I’ve had it for a few days now.”

  “I guess you really do like coming here.”

  “I haven’t been in a while,” he answers, shrugging.

  “So, you carry the blanket just in case you need it?”

  “I carried it because I was hoping you’d say yes to coming here with me.”

  “That’s a little presumptuous,” I joke.

  “More like hopeful.”

  “Why did you want to bring me here?” I ask, watching him as he opens the blanket and spreads it carefully. He motions for me to take a seat; cautiously, I do.

  He sits down with me, his eyes searching mine before he speaks. “Before last week, you kept asking me why I was interested in talking to you,” he says carefully.

  “I’m actually still wondering.”

  “I understand why you kept questioning my intentions now. I had heard a little about last year.”

  The little bit of peace I found on the ride here is instantly gone. He heard the whispers. This is why he’s interested in me. He thinks I’m easy. “Of course you did.”

  “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “You must have. Unless you live under a rock, you couldn’t have missed the rumors.”

  “I wasn’t really in school most of last year—when I finally started coming, I was too angry to focus on anyone or anything.”

  “But this year? You’ve heard the rumors. How could you not know they were about me?”

  “I’ve heard chatter here and there. I didn’t know it was about you when I first talked to you outside the dance.”

  “So, why did you talk to me?”

  “Because you reminded me of what I turned into last year,” he answers. He looks away, taking in the beauty of the field. Clearly, last year isn’t something he likes to talk about. Which is fine—it’s not something I like to talk about either.

  “When did you start hearing them?” I ask.

  “I was in the locker room getting ready for a game. I heard one of the players talk about the rites of passage—and last year’s tasks.” I can hear the disappointment in his voice. “I couldn’t believe some of the shit they did. They were looking forward to it this year, too. I was sick to my stomach when they talked about you hooking up with Jacob.”

  When he says ‘hooking up,’ I flinch. I can’t help it.

  “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what happened. I just wish I knew sooner. I would’ve made him pay for what he did, Dimah. I wanted to make him pay anyway for using you to fulfill a fucking task. I couldn’t understand why someone like you would want to be with him in the first place, and then to hear what he did to you?” He spits out each word, pain and anger lacing the tone of his voice.

  “It’s over now,” I tell him.

  “It shouldn’t have happened—and it won’t happen again. I told the coaches about the stupid tasks on that list a while ago, and now it’s been banned. Any student suspected of doing that shit will be expelled immediately.”

  “That’s a relief,” I say, a little flabbergasted by his declaration.

  “I wish I could have done more,” he says. He reaches for my hand, but pulls away at the last minute. My disappointment at his retreat surprises me.

  “You didn’t know me.”

  “I didn’t, but I wanted to. Even last year. I’d see you walking around school with a cardigan, jeans and a T-shirt, and your nose always buried in a book. I always wondered what you were really like.”

  “So how come you never said anything?” Why had he never approached me before?

  “Because I was in a bad place last year. But then—at the dance—I decided to stop being a coward and come talk to you.” He takes a deep breath and adds, “I don’t blame you for thinking I was another asshole trying to take advantage of you. I’m a football player too, so I see why you’d think that I had a task to fulfill. But I want you to understand that’s not the case. I’ve actually liked you for a long time now.”

  “Liked me?” I ask, waiting for him to correct himself.

  “Yes,” he says with a smile. “I know you don’t know me very well, but I’d like you to. I’d like to get to know you, too. Actually, I’d like to date you.”

  “Why?” My tone drips with surprise.

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “Because you’re strong. You’re beautiful and smart and funny. You’re the only girl in that school I’ve ever imagined myself with, and when I saw you wear my jersey, despite how angry I was that those girls treated you like that, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with you. To share more than my jersey with you.”

  I blush. “Now you’re just saying random things.”

  “They aren’t random. They’re true.”

  “So, you want to date me?”

  “I’d like to—but only if you like the idea as much as I do.”

  I point back and forth between us, saying, “Me, date you?”

  “Jeez, Emerson. Yes! Maybe today wasn’t the right day to ask you, but I got sick of waiting for the right day,” he says.

  I can’t help it; I smile because I can’t hold it back. “I feel a little more like my old self today,” I tell him. I’ve been feeling like my old self more and more with each passing day—but my old self has definitely been mixed with some new parts.

  New confidence. New strength.

  “I can see that.” He takes hold of my hand and a sense of comfort overtakes me. “I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

  Goosebumps spread
up my arm. “Thank you for pushing me to do it,” I answer. “You were right about what would happen if I just stood up for myself.”

  “I wanted to fight your battle for you, but I know from experience that the only way you’d find yourself again—find that girl I used to watch walking the halls—was if you fought for yourself.”

  “You were right. It was my fight to win.”

  “And that you did.” I can see the pride in his eyes as the words leave his mouth. He takes a deep breath and adds, “So, about that date?” He runs his fingers through his hair once again, and I realize he’s nervous.

  “It sort of feels like we’re on a date right now,” I respond, feeling my cheeks redden.

  “In that case, I’ve brought some food too,” Aron says, grabbing his bag and opening it up once again.

  I laugh as he pulls out some containers. “You really came prepared!”

  “What can I say? I’m an optimistic man.”

  I smile. “A little bit of optimism never hurt anyone.”

  We spend a few more hours out in the field, eating the food he made, telling each other stories. I get to know him a little more, and he gets to know me too—the real me. We take our time. Nothing is rushed and everything is perfect, just as I imagined it would be. He treats me the way I thought no one else would. Afterwards, I drive him back to school to pick up his car, then he tails me home to be sure I make it there safely. We sit on the steps of my house and talk a little longer, laugh a little louder.

  At the end of the night, when the street lights come on, we linger at my front door. My eyes flutter closed as his lips find my forehead and he places the sweetest of kisses there. He embraces me briefly, then watches as I open the door to head inside.

  Perfect.

  Aron Lincoln might just be the man I deserve.

  And this right here? This is just the beginning of our story. It’s not the end.

  Epilogue

  But losing me, for me was the end.

  I told Mom everything. I started at the beginning, from the moment Jacob asked me to prom, to everything that happened at school in the time since.

  She cried, apologizing profusely.

  I’ll never forget the look on her face the moment I let go and cried on her lap, the moment I finally shared everything I’d been holding onto. She looked distraught.

  But I was finally okay.

  Our tears kept coming while we held onto each other. I told her it wasn’t her fault; she said she should have pressed me more. I told her it would have been pointless because I wasn’t ready to do anything about it.

  Not until the day the school nurse judged me, too.

  Janice still graduated. She’s somewhere, furthering her education, but she’ll likely always play the role of the mean girl. The last I heard, Jacob got kicked out of the school and the football program he’d been accepted into for questionable behavior. There’s chatter about legal action being brought against him.

  I know everyone will get what they deserve.

  I definitely got what I deserved…

  “Where did you go?” Aron’s question brings my attention back to the present. I watch the sun begin to set as we drive along a quiet stretch of road.

  “Just thinking about this past year,” I tell him.

  “Are you okay?” I can see his concern for me before he returns his eyes to the road ahead.

  “I am.” And while I’m not one hundred percent yet, I’m well on my way. The pieces of who I used to be are finally coming together. I’m not a finished puzzle, but I’m better than I used to be.

  “Good,” he says, and I can sense his relief.

  “Thank you. For everything,” I tell him, squeezing his hand.

  “You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do anything, honestly; I’ll always be sorry for that.”

  “You didn’t know.” I know if he did, he’d have done something—that’s just the kind of person he is.

  “I would’ve known if I hadn’t had my head up my ass.” He shakes his head, disgusted.

  “You were battling your own demons,” I assure him.

  “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have noticed yours.”

  I frown, watching his profile as he drives. “I fight my own battles.”

  “That you do. You’re strong, Em,” he says tightening his grip on my hand.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Lincoln,” I tell him jokingly.

  “Ready for this?” he asks, as we head down I-95 toward the future—our future.

  I’m definitely nervous—but I pull myself together enough to say, “I’m sort of ready. Are you?”

  “Bragan University won’t even know what hit them,” he says with a chuckle.

  We’re silent for a moment, just riding together. “Did you think—after that day you talked to me outside the dance—that we’d be heading to college together right now?” I ask, curious to hear his answer. I didn’t expect to be here, didn’t expect to move forward, to move on.

  “I didn’t think we’d be here, no, but I’m so glad we are.”

  “You and me both,” I tell him with a smile.

  “If I had a drink, I’d toast to a new beginning.”

  “To a new beginning, indeed.”

  I got myself back.

  And I got Aron Lincoln.

  Everything else will fall in line.

  LOSING ME

  A poem by Rosa Angela Ramos

  I know this emotion too well.

  I, too have lost me many times before.

  But unlike you, I needed to find me to survive.

  Unlike you, losing the palm of my hands to the brightness of the sun meant the earth stopped rotating around my thighs.

  Losing me, for me meant the stars stopped shining life into the darkness of my skin.

  Losing the goodness my mama poured into my heart as she gave life to me.

  But for you, losing me was like drinking tea without honey.

  Easy to replace with sugar.

  Though, we both know I taste purely sweet like sugarcane.

  And your tongue could not get enough.

  Yet, losing me, for you and me was not the same.

  Losing me, for you was the beginning.

  But losing me, for me was the end.

  A WORD FROM GGs REC ROOM

  If You’re Struggling Remember…

  “Cry a little, let your feelings out, and then look around at what you have accomplished and hold on to that because You Are You and You Are Awesome!! Life sucks, yes, but there is always something to look forward to.” – Cynthia V.O.

  “With every negative you notice, find two positives to counter it. You’re worth more than the insidious voice inside says you are. You are Enough.” – Courtney S.

  “Cry when you feel it. Remember everyone has insecurities, but remember you’re most valued. If one must move on, grieve, but then tell yourself that life is full of new beginnings. Love yourself because God created you with love.” – Christina G.

  “Be happy with yourself. Doesn’t matter what anyone says, make yourself happy before all others.” – Cynthia C.

  “You are beautiful just the way you are! Don’t compare yourself to others. Rather compare yourself today with who you were yesterday, a week ago, or a year ago, and see how far you have come. You are enough! The only people’s expectations you have to meet are your own. If someone decides to pass on you, it is not a reflection of you but of them and their insecurities. Be you! You are the only you and the world needs you otherwise you wouldn’t be here! So, throw your shoulders back, hold your head up, and let ‘em hear you roar!” – Rachel R.Y.

  “It’s okay to cry and let it out. Then, stand up, wipe your face, and keep going because you are beautiful and you are worth it!” – Samantha S.

  “What would you say to a friend who was feeling the way you are? Would you allow your friend to beat themselves up? Talk badly about themselves? You are important too. Use those words on yourself.” – Jennifer G.


  “It’s okay to love yourself.” – Dee S.

  “You are strong. You are beautiful. You are smart. You are enough. Don’t let those who’ve brought you down continue to do so. Take back the power from those who hurt you. Find yourself. Love yourself.” – Author Gianna Gabriela

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I have a friend who has a tattoo of a semicolon. I asked her, “why?” She responded by reminding me that a semicolon is used to separate major sentence elements. She says it indicated to her the start of something new after the end of a previous event.

  She said it reminded her that her story was not over; rather, it was just taking a different direction.

  Dimah Emerson took over my thoughts. I wasn’t even done writing the next book in my series when she swept through and demanded to be written. I wrote more in a day than I have ever written before.

  She was a slow brewing storm.

  And then she finally blew up.

  Dimah Emerson represents—at least to me—every young girl who has been bullied, misunderstood, made fun of, assaulted, and put down. Dimah Emerson represents so many of us. I didn’t expect this story to go where it went; initially, it was supposed to be just bullying, but she took it in a different direction and I couldn’t ignore it.

  This story is about her.

  This story is about all of us.

  Dimah lived with her head down for a little while. She changed who she was in response to what was going on around her and what happened to her. She became a shell of the person she used to be. She lost herself.

  I hope this story motivates you to find yourself.

  Dimah needed to find herself, to take ownership of her life in order to move forward. She couldn’t just sit there and let the things that happened to her keep her down.