I parted my mouth to argue, but she mouthed the words, “Please, Ash.”
The anger in the pit of my gut didn’t dissipate, but I listened to Karla. If I were honest, that anger inside of me hadn’t disappeared since Rian passed away. I wasn’t sure if that rage would ever leave me. For the most part, I tried to tame it, but Colton had it bubbling over. I didn’t want to, but I still listened to Karla.
I stopped my footsteps.
I didn’t say another word.
Colton looked at me with narrowed eyes, and then he hit Karla’s tray out of her hands, making the items hit Karla’s chest, including the open cup of applesauce. “Oops,” he muttered. “My mistake.” Everyone erupted into laughter except for Missy. She still looked guilt-ridden, but she didn’t say a word.
Every ounce of humiliation was on Karla’s face as she stood there covered in food from the tray. She headed for the exit with tears in her eyes, not once looking back at me as people laughed at her.
“That’s the slowest getaway I’ve ever witnessed,” Colton joked.
My hand formed a fist. Right as I was about to personally introduce Colton to my knuckles, three teachers hurried over to see what the disruption had been. Leave it to teachers to be late and unaware.
“Clear out the space, you guys. Let’s get this cleaned up,” one of the teachers stated.
My hand held its fist formation, but my concern shifted from beating up Colton to making sure Karla was all right. I started in her direction. “Hey, Karla! Karla!” She didn’t turn around to face me; she kept on her mission, making it to the hallways, which were mostly empty.
“Hey, Karla!” I said again, steps away from her.
“What was that?!” she hissed, turning around to face me. Her eyes were filled with anger. Or maybe it was heartbreak. Maybe both. “What were you doing?” she questioned. “How dare you make a scene like that!”
I stood completely dumbfounded as her anger raged toward me instead of the people who deserved her outburst. I didn’t get it. I gestured toward the cafeteria. “Those people were treating you like shit.”
“Of course they were. They always do,” she said, like that made it OK.
“People can’t talk to you like that.”
“Clearly, they can. Besides...” Her words faded away, but I could hear them in the silence.
“What those people said wasn’t true, Karla.”
She rolled her eyes and dramatically sighed. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, huh? Don’t you get it, Ash? I don’t want to know you, OK? Go back to talking to ghosts in the cemetery and leave me alone!”
Her words hit me in my chest. Then I saw her eyes.
Her eyes didn’t say the same things that her words did.
“Fuck those people, Karla,” I whispered. “They don’t know you.”
“Youdon’t know me,” she argued.
She was right. I didn’t know her, not really. I only knew a few scattered pieces of her that I’d collected without her permission. I knew her frowns, and the way she covered her scars with her hair. I knew how her eyes looked more lost than found. I knew she missed her mother. I bet that was what she struggled with the most: missing her mom. Physical scars were nowhere near as painful as the scars on the inside.
“But I want to know you,” I said softly. That was true, too. Iwas so interested in who she was and what her story had been. We were around the same age, but she felt so much older than she should’ve. I wanted to know why; I wanted to know what it was like in her head and what kind of thoughts kept her up at night. I wanted to know if they were the same kind of thoughts that didn’t let me sleep.
Not only did I want to know her, but I wanted to protect her in the same ways I couldn’t protecthim. I didn’t know why I cared so much. Karla wasn’t Rian. She wasn’t my little brother. But every time I saw her looking small and scared, it felt like someone twisting a knife in my chest all over again. I could hear my brother still to this day, our memories playing on a loop in my mind.
“Hey, Ash,” Rian said, standing in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Do you want to hang out today or something?”
I waved him off, not even looking his way. “Not now. I’m busy. Maybe later.”
Later.
I hated that word more than any other one. If I knew laters weren’t promised, I would’ve done everything in life a lot differently.
“I want to know you, Karla,” I repeated.
