“Fine.” It’s my understanding that Xavier had nothing to do with the vandalism at school, and unlike the other guys, he didn’t even get punished. Regardless, I can’t help that my hackles rise in his presence. But in the spirit of trying to be a more forgiving person, like Micha suggested, I’m willing to give Xavier a pass. “You?”
“Okay, I guess. Things have been a little weird the last few weeks.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You know, since shit hit the fan.”
A look passes between the two of them. A long, meaningful look.
I raise an eyebrow at this. “Am I missing something?”
Tyson wrinkles his nose. “I just didn’t really think you wanted to know what was going on at Preston, and you know, particularly with certain people.”
“And you’d be right,” I say, turning back around. I chew on my lip for a moment before whirling back around. “Okay, nevermind. Spill.”
“Well,” Xavier hesitantly begins, “it’s just that it’s about Hamilton.”
“What did he do now?” I grunt in distaste, firmly ignoring the way my heart squeezes painfully at just the mention of him. “Did he, like... record me when I wasn’t looking? Is there a sex tape out there or something?” Oh, god. Is there a sex tape? I wouldn’t even know. I shut off all my social media.
“There’s not a sex tape,” Xavier assures me. “It’s just… well, I guess it all started that day. Before we cleaned up the wall, you know? He was spoiling for a fight with Heston, and—” he gives Tyson and I a significant look, “—I use the word ‘fight’ very loosely here. Heston didn’t even want to, but he couldn’t back down. Long story short, Hamilton absolutely pummeled him. It took three of us just to pull him off. It was really ugly.”
I grimace, guessing, “Because Heston found out about us.”
He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t like that. For Heston, it probably wasn’t even about you. He just wanted to challenge Hamilton’s place. But for Hamilton? It was mostly about what Heston did to you.”
My stomach flip flops traitorously. “I doubt that.”
“No, I’m serious,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “After taking out his rage on Heston, he kind of just…well, Hamilton’s just lost now. Barely recognizable.” I must look skeptical because he adds, “Well, for one, he quit the swim team.”
I’m not sure I do a good job of hiding my shock. I look at Tyson and he nods in confirmation.
“And,” Xavier continues, “he’s completely cut off his parents. Not to mention, he skipped the deadline for turning in his applications for Duke and Wake Forest.”
My heart thuds. “What? But those are his dream schools.”
“Hamilton made it pretty clear that those are his father’s dream schools. Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s going to college at all anymore. I don’t know what he’s doing.” A line creases his forehead. “He’s living with his sister over the break. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t even come back to Preston in January.”
“Is this true?” I ask Tyson. It’s not that I don’t believe Xavier… I just can’t comprehend a universe in which Hamilton quits swim, doesn’t care about college, and could drop out. “But what about valedictorian? I practically handed it to him.”
Xavier shrugs. “Yeah, well, turns out that when you left, so did his motivation.” He holds my eye. “You’re the only person who ever really challenged him, Gwen. The Devils just did what he wanted. You know he had the faculty there in the palm of his hand. And girls?” He snorts. “They gave him whatever he wanted. Academics came easy to him. His father didn’t challenge him so much as make demands. But you? You pushed him. You made him hold a line.” He laughs. “And I suspect you were the first girl to ever make him work for it.”
My cheeks heat. The “it” is implied. And he’s right. I did.
“Next.”
I glance over at the cashier and realize it’s my turn to check out. The exchange goes quickly, and Xavier also pays at the register next to mine. We all leave the store at the same time.
“Have a good holiday,” Xavier says, offering me a grin. “And please tell Skylar I said hello?”
“I will.” I give him a tight smile. My head is reeling from everything he just revealed, but something else pops in my mind. “I told her what you said before—your apology and everything.”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, something nervous and hopeful illuminating his expression when he asks, “And?”
“I think…” I shift my gaze to my shoes, swallowing thickly. “I think that Skylar is better than I am at forgiveness.”
He exhales loudly, seeming relieved. “That’s good to hear. Do you think it’d be out of line for me to call her some time?”
“I think she’d probably appreciate that.” His face lights up. “Merry Christmas, Xavier.”
He’s smiling as he walks off, and I possibly have a better understanding of what Micha was trying to tell me. Forgiveness doesn’t have to be a show of weakness, or an invitation for more hurt. It can also bring people together, help them heal those gaping, invisible wounds that fester into something deeper and lasting.
Maybe it’s time for me to offer a little of my own.