“How about you walk away now, and I can stoppretendingto be polite?” My annoyance at his mere presence is implied as I lay into the word and tighten my grip around my pencil. I’ve done damage with weapons far smaller than this. The warmth of my knife tucked safely into my boot reminds me I could teach this guy a lesson with a little flick of my wrist if it came to that. I’d show him cute and feisty as he bleeds out all over those God-awful suede loafers of his.
“Hey, hoes.”
“And the hits just keep coming,” I groan aloud as Kaitlin fills my line of sight, draping her arms around Bobby as a show of ownership. Little does she know I’d rather have crotch rot than try and entice her boyfriend into my bed, not that it would be hard. Bobby has a fondness for all the ladies, pretty much anyone who will give him the time of day.
Well, this bitch is all out of minutes and severely lacking in self-restraint, so I will not be held accountable for my actions if she keeps it up. If I thought Kaitlin was unbearable before, it’s nothing like it is now after Mr Crane announced I had been selected for his TA position.
“Stealing jobs and boyfriends now. Do you have no shame,whore?”
Christ, this girl likes to throw that word around. Has she ever heard of female solidarity?As someone who likes a little debasement with their bedroom play this girl is going the right way about ruining that word for me.
My fists clench, but movement out of the corner of my eye holds me steady. Megan flies up out of her seat and winds her hand in Kaitlin’s hair, sawing into the mound in her fist with her craft scissors until she has it hacked off. Kaitlin doesn’t even have a chance to question the assault because it’s over in seconds. Blonde strands rain down on the table, and Kaitlin whimpers with shock as her hands fly up to her head to assess the damage.
“Oh, you dropped this,” Megan chimes and hands Kaitlin’s hair back to her like it’s a cardigan that has fallen from the back of her chair. “Now fuck off back under the rock you crawled out of and take your nasty-ass creep of a boyfriend with you.” Kaitlin doesn’t need to be told twice as she retreats in a hurry, dragging an amused Bobby along with her by his shirt.
“You didn’t have to do that. I had it under control.” I laugh, impressed with my friend’s take-no-shit response to the Bravencourt Bitch.
“I can see you twirling that pencil between your fingers; my way was less bloody.” She wasn’t wrong. Growing up the way I did, you learn how to turn everyday objects into weapons. “She got the point, and this way I get to keep my roommate,” she adds excitedly.
“I wonder how long it will take her stylist to sort that out,” I chuckle, swiping the loose strands of Kaitlin’s hair from off the table with my elbow and returning to my sketch, licking my finger and blending an edge of my charcoal line work, softening something that looks like an inkblot personality test in a psychiatrists office.
Butchering Kaitlin’s three-hundred-pound haircut has certainly lifted the sourness I started the day out with.
“What do you think?” Turning my pad to Megan, I watch avidly as she tugs her lower lip between her fingers, deep in thought.
“What is it?” She squints, titling her head to look at it from another angle as she tries to decide what the grey mess wants to be.
“Chaos, rage, and fury,” I deadpan as though it should be obvious.
“Looks like a couple of guys on horses in a black sea if you concentrate hard enough. Like one of those optical illusions where you swear you see a boat, but it turns out it was a camel riding a turtle all along.”
I pull the pad to my chest, and she sits back. “Well, it isn’t—no men, no horses, no sea of any kind,” I snap, my tone sharper than she deserves.
“Okay, it looks like what you said then—anger, menstruation madness, and stress. I’ve never been much for art.” She throws out the words randomly around a bite of her sandwich, and I can’t help but laugh. “So why is it we’re sitting here and definitely not drawing two stacked half-naked men on horses today, Ebs?”
I don’t argue back that she’s still wrong because she isn’t; it would be a waste of breath, and we both know it. She smirks around the rim of her Styrofoam cup, a brow raised. She doesn’t need to verbalise the‘okay, Ebs—stick with being delusional’line, I can see it clear in her bright expression. I’ve let my brain run away with me, losing myself in my drawing as my thoughts flit back to the two raven-haired boys who are never far from my mind.
It surprises me that it isn’t the loss of them that cuts the deepest, it’s the longing, allowing myself that kernel ofhope that maybe today would be the day they came and found me, only to be left disappointed as I lay my head down on my pillow. Warring with the onslaught of memories that haunt me when the world stills, and I succumb to the fitful darkness.
“So, we’re partying tonight, right?” Megan interjects.
“Mr Crane asked for my help with the art department duties for the summer play.”
“You know just because you’re his TA, it doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says?”
“He’s offering me extra credit, and if I am going to attend all these parties with my roomie, I’ll need all the help I can get keeping my grade average up.” I counter, playing to the part of her that has been trying to drag me out to a party for weeks now.
“Draw all the feelings you want then; consider me the approving best friend if it means you’ll agree to Jello shots and dancing.”
“One beer and a light whimsical sway a good distance from other people, and that is my final offer,” I say with a grin.
“Okay, sold,” she snaps back. I get the feeling ‘no’ isn’t a word Megan hears very often.
Mateo’s friend Brandon practically slides across the table between us, and I have just enough time to swipe up my art pad. It takes him all of two seconds to grab a fork and start tucking into my shortcake.
“Help yourself.” When he winks his thanks, I know the implied sarcasm has landed. He holds out a filled forkful, and my belly roils at the sickly sweet scent of all that processed sugar. “It’s yours.”
“No classes again today, Brandon?” Mateo asks as he dabs motherly at his friend’s cheek with a napkin. Brandon bats him away and punches him in the shoulder.
