EM
My locker has a fresh coat of paint on it when I turn up on Monday morning. The colour matches to the other lockers, but it’s thin. So thin the offensive tagging still shows through the topcoat, the muted palette drawing more attention rather than less.
I ignore it, spinning through my combination and shoving my books, makeup, and bag into the insufficient gap.
A few judicious pushes and they fit well enough for me to close the door. I duck into the bathroom, taking my favourite stall furthest from the door and locking myself in before I lower my underwear to check my pad.
I haven’t had a period since I started running my pills end-to-end, but I’m bleeding. No pain apart from a low-grade ache reminiscent of cramps. Just a slow sludgy trail that keeps re-emerging just when I think it’s gone.
The same night that Wilbur uplifted me from the party, he suggested I might enjoy cohabitating with him more than I do living out of my car or bunking with my mother in her latest shared rental.
My answer was fuck no but even when I worded it more politely, he didn’t appreciate the response. He was rough, far worse than he’s ever been before. Afterwards he became clingy to the point of suffocation. I have to get away from him. I just can’t get my stupid brain to come up with a plan.
Perhaps it wouldn’t even be that bad. If I’m staying with him full time, he won’t have any reason to keep hold of his punishing jealousy. He’ll know where I am every second, will know that no other man is touching what he mistakenly thinks is his.
But he knows most of that already. The constant messaging, the demands for responses. He turned up at a party using an address I hadn’t given him.
He must be tracking me.
Must be tracking my phone.
I’ll have to get rid of it before I leave. A fine plan. Unfortunately, leaving my phone somewhere doesn’t really solve the bigger questions. Like, how am I going to afford anything? It’s not just my phone I’ll have to ditch. It’ll be my car, too. The only security blanket I have left. The difference between being properly homeless and just unhoused.
If I take it, the licence plate will be easily traceable. Easy to track. Especially when you have as much money as Wilbur.
When I’m washing my hands in the sink, my face looks like a horror show. The same makeup as always but it’s getting harder and harder to apply properly. My hands never stop shaking. The tiny car mirrors are not equal to the task at hand.
There’s a free period-care dispenser on the wall and I take a few pads, tucking them in the side of my bra. Hopefully, not needed but my luck has been shit lately, so they might be.
Back out in the corridor, Dee walks straight past me. My throat clutches and I think for one horrible moment she’s blanking me. A future unrolls starring me as a lonely outcast. My one staunch friend abandoning me for easier alliances. Ones that reward her as much as mine used to.
Then she does a double take and frowns at me. “You look like shit.”
“It’s Monday. What am I meant to look like? Happy?”
A frown of annoyance passes over her features before they resume their normal level of far-too-joyful-for-this-place. “What happened to you on Friday?”
I shrug, my throat seizing again for an instant. It draws as tight as when Caylon covered it with his hand.
Then I swallow and produce a smile. A wide smile. A radiant smile. A smile from the bank of ‘if I look like my life hasn’t gone to shit will it get back to its regularly scheduled programming?’
“I got tipsy and had to leave.”
“You weren’t in your car. I waited by it for ages.”
“Sorry.” I duck my head, so I don’t have to see the disappointment in her eyes. “I went home.”
I did. Eventually.
The press of her lips tells me she doesn’t believe me, but Dee wrinkles her nose, deciding to bypass any awkward questions. “You got your essay ready for history?”
“No, but I’ve got a spare period just before, so I’ll get it done then. You?” I nudge her in the side as we walk in step. “Or have you spent all the lessons staring at the back of Nate’s head?”
She tosses her head from side to side. “As if. I’ll have you know my affections have shifted.”
“Mm? And who’s the new lucky recipient?”
“Taylor.”
