We've Met Before

28 - Taste Test

KAIA

    "Have you thought about what colleges you're thinking of applying to?" She taps her pen on her desk, staring at me through her choppy mascara. The tight bun on her head makes her look older than she probably is. Her features are actually quite pleasant, but they all seem to stretch upwards, almost as if she had a bad face lift and can't seem to repair it now.
    "I haven't."
    I can't miss the look of disappointment from my counselor as she scribbles something down on her notepad. Her jaw clenched every couple seconds, almost as if she's eating gum, but I know she's not.
    "You're a senior, and all your teachers seem to be worried that you haven't asked about recommendations letters."
Could she sound any more bored?
    "I don't think my gpa is good enough to get me into any college, and I don't exactly have a way to pay for college either," I explain, rubbing my hands together. This room is really cold, and I don't want to be here in the first place.
    I was sitting quietly in first period when I received the yellow slip of doom. Kaitlyn and I coined it that after she got sent to the office for posting "shut the fuck up," under the school districts Twitter page. She was livid, and will still complain about it to this day when she can.
    "Well, you don't have many options now. You could've come to the office earlier and inquired about your situation."
    The way the word situation leaves her mouth makes it sound like she's talking about a trash bag. She makes the event sound dirty, and disgusting, as if she'd rather be saying the word vomit, than situation.
    I didn't come earlier because to be frank, it wasn't a priority for me. I had my mother to take care of, and that was always enough for me. My mother gave me some sort of purpose, and now that I feel secure enough with Cade by my side, secure enough for me to have another purpose, I'm finally realizing that there can be more to my life than my inebriated mother's caretaker.
    I haven't seen her in a couple weeks, and although my stomach and head toils in this lingering aftertaste of shame, I feel okay with that. It's okay for me to feel bad about breaking a habit I've been dealing with since I was in middle school. It's normal for me to feel uncomfortable at a loved one's misfortunes, it's just not okay for me to take on their burdens as my own.
    "Well, then what exactly am I in here for?" I ask, with a bit more sass than intended.
    She sighs. "I suppose nothing."
    Nothing.
    I sit silently, staring at the potted plant on her desk. It's a very pretty Peace Lily. They don't take much maintenance, and they're almost impossible to kill. Very adequate for a an office desk. I'm glad that she's at least not torturing her plants the way she's doing with me.
    I stand up from the chair, hauling my backpack onto my back. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a test second period."
    She doesn't call out for me, or add anything else to the conversation. She just goes back to playing solitaire on her monitor, her pen clicking against the table once again.
    The halls are empty, and there's only about fifteen minutes left of class, before the bell rings and we're all forced to continue moving on with the day.
I don't know what I'm going to do after high school. It's April, and graduation is in a month and a half. I passed all my classes with grades just good enough to earn me my diploma, and even if they were good enough to get me into college, it's too late to apply.
I could take a gap year, and work a job. I can maybe find an apartment cheap enough to live in, or maybe my dad would be open to the idea of me moving in with him. I haven't told him I moved out yet, and I'm scared to. Not because he's going to be mad at me, but because I don't want this entire thing to blow onto my mom.
I love my mom, even if I know it's better that I don't.
I can't imagine sending her to jail, or having someone hassle with her. Someone who isn't me.
I'm the only one who can be patient with her. Who can withstand all her screams, cries, and tantrums, while being able to fully understand her and treat her like a human being.
She's my mom above all else.
I'll think about all of this later.
Set it aside to cool with the rest of my problems.
——
The bathroom is empty, but I know it's only seconds before she walks in. Jane stands beside me, her hands tucked into her mom jeans, staring at the bathroom entrance.
"Give it a few minutes, I swear she's coming."
A trail of weed and incense trails inside the bathroom, along with her familiar butterfly locs.
She pauses, staring between Jane and I.
"Girl, who the fuck is this?"
I smile, pushing Jane in front of me. "This is my friend Jane. Jane, this is my... friend."
I don't actually know her name, but it's alright because it's a good time as ever to learn.
Jane smiles awkwardly, and holds her hand out to my other friend. She looks back awkwardly to me. "Kaia, I told you that wasn't a good idea. I'm so bad at meeting people and I-"
Before she can finish, my friend crashes into her with a huge hug, burying her arms around her with all her might. Jane's in shock at first, before relaxing into her. "This feels so nice... Oh wow, this is really good."
I nod, crossing my arms in satisfaction. "I'm telling you, it's like free fucking therapy."
She lets go of Jane, smiling at her and rubbing the sides of her arms. "You look like you needed that. Your aura is so much brighter now."
Jane looks around herself in shock, almost as if she's seeing something I very obviously can't. "Yes, it does look much brighter doesn't it."
    "Who's this?" My friend asks, pointing at a stunned Jane.
    "This is Jane."
    Jane smiles hazily. "Who are you?"
    "I'm Roxana, but everyone called me Rox. It's simple, short, and easy."
    Roxana.
    I didn't know her name until now, and I can't remember if I told her mine.
    "I'm Kaia, by the way," I mumble, hoping to not ruin the introduction moment between them. I hadn't really thought any of this through, just decided that Jane needed someone to spend time with while Jennifer is... wherever she is. I don't want to admit it, but I hate the fact Jennifer is mad at Jane for choosing me over Gabby.
    It's selfish.
    There's no remorse for me, or for Jane, or for the morality of it in general.
    I'm sure she's not very happy either. I can't imagine what Jennifer must be like jwithout Jane. Jane has always been the stabilizing rock for either one of them. I can imagine Jennifer roaming the halls during lunch, on her phone, or with a textbook in her hands as she pretend to study in the library.
    Jane and Rox continue geeking out over aura colors as Roxane explains to her how to read auras.
——
    The library after school is so quiet. The silence drawls out in long syllables that you can barely understand, but you know they speak to you.
    Cade is busy at practice, and I doubt he'll be done until maybe five. Lucky for me, I haven't had much time for reading, so this might be a good time to pick up something new and read for a bit.
    I flicker my fingers through the book spines, reading the titles out loud to myself as if I'll come across one that tastes good enough to read.
    A couple minutes go by until I feel weight behind me. It's subtle, and not too alarming. An arm extends and grabs a book from the shelf. I turn around, hoping to see someone familiar.
    I jump.
    My back hits the shelf and a book topples over from the impact. Elliot stands in front of me, holding a copy of Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. His face is bruised, cuts scattered across his once handsome face. His eyes are darker, his breath warmer. My heart palpitates and I feel like screaming, but since when does that work.
    "You should try this one." He gazes eerily at the book, turning it around in his single hand. "It's about cheating death, it's about betrayal, it's about an insane woman who does what she needs to do to make sure she ends up with what she deserves."
    I back away from him, taking steps backwards down the hall of the library.
    "What do you want? How are your friends? Still passed out from Friday? Unlucky day of the week for you." My voice doesn't falter, but my head does. He's going to cut it off any second now and place it on a wooden pike, waving it around as a victory trophy.
    He laughs, placing the book back and rubbing his jaw with the rims of his fingers.
    I need to run.
    But my feet are soiled to the library carpet.
    I have an insatiable need to ask why again. His answer wasn't complete enough for me, and maybe it never will be. I've experienced evil, and I've been hit by it multiple times in my life, but this was something else entirely. This wasn't dazed or inebriated evil, this wasn't a reckless mistake. This was planned, conniving, and malignant.
    "Tsk. I'm over it. I'm over you. Teenage crushes pass by, and you..." he pauses, staring at me through his dark lashes, "you're a ugly little bitch who chases around for the same guy who slept with your darling best friend."
I turn around, rushing towards the exit, but my feet never advance much because Elliot reaches out for my forearm, fisting it harshly against his grip. My skin turns white against his hand, my heart beating out of my chest by this point. I tug my arm but it doesn't budge.
"Let me fucking go, or I'll cut your hands off myself and mail them to your fucking mother. Nice funeral present, no?" I tug one more time and he lets go, tucking his arms inside his pockets, smiling as if I said exactly what he wanted me to.
"He's done a number on quiet little Kaia. I liked you better when you barely talked. I'm out of your hair, and out of your boyfriend's, but remember this: you're nothing without him, yet he's everything without you. Remember who gave you your voice." He looks towards the shelf, pulling out a tattered copy of the Little Mermaid by Hans Anderson. "And don't be upset, when he takes it with him when he's done with you."
My hands tremble in anger at my side, my composure slipping slowly from my hands as he mocks me in this empty library.
Elliot's right.
I wouldn't have explored freedom on my own because I needed someone else to do it.
I have a long way to go, and I beat myself up sometimes for wanting to fly that extra mile, but that's all part of the process right?
    I take a step towards Elliot and he stumbles back. He's scared of me. I can feel it emanating off his body. I can see his chest heaving, and a thin but sleek line of sweat on the palms of his hands.
    "Done with me?" I press my feet forward, going against every nerve in my body telling me that he's dangerous. That he almost killed me and raped me. "You'll forever be the coward who had to drug his friend to even try and get in her pants. You'll forever be the done, while I'm just getting started."
    He inhaled deeply, both of us inches away from each other. I wait for him to throw a hand at me, or maybe spit something meaner back, but he never does. He turns on his heel and rushes out of the library, his brown hair tangled in fury.
    That's how it ends.
    And I think there were more words to say, and maybe more things to do,
    But I breathed in, tasting a something I couldn't get in a book.
    Free.