The Chord to my Heart

10: You've Got A Friend In Me

                                                           10: You've Got A Friend In Me

           Scarlett talks enough for the both of us. I figured this out the very first day of school when she sat with me during our lunch hour. Yet I continued to sit with her in the days following. I found that even though she talked way too much, she never pried at me for details. When she asked me a question about my life, I’d answer in the best way I knew how and she’d leave it at that. She was also pretty funny. And just so damn happy all the time. It’d be irritating if I didn’t envy her so much. I wanted that kind of happiness, too.

            On Monday afternoon, when I walked through the cafeteria and out the back doors towards our usual table, I knew something was wrong. Scarlett barely mumbled a hello, turning back towards the untouched food on her tray.

            We sat in silence as I finished off my food and Scarlett merely moved hers around with a fork. When I realized she really wasn’t going to say anything, I broke the silence.

            "So, how’s your day been?” I asked.

           She sighed, dropping the fork in the plastic tray. “Not very good at all,” she said.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, as her huge brown eyes met my gaze. I was sure she’d say no, and go back to pushing her food around.

           Much to my surprise, she said “Well, you know how Cameron and I were, like, a thing?”

           I nodded. She talked about her boyfriend a lot. I’d see them in the halls together all the time.

            “He dumped me this morning. Said something about needing his space. But then I saw him, like, two hours later flirting with some dolled up Barbie in the hallway,” she said, as her lip quivered. But she bit down on it hard.

            “You know, it’s funny because I thought he was different. He always said that he liked how I wasn’t like the Barbie’s at this school. But then he turns around and drops me so he can flirt with one. I mean, was I not good enough for him?” One lone tear fell, but she wiped it away just as fast as it escaped. I felt a hot flicker in my stomach, my palms turning sweaty from the heat. It was a familiar feeling, one I recognized so well in these last few weeks. I was angry. But this time, it wasn’t aimed at my parents. It was aimed at some teenage boy named Cameron.

            “He’s obviously an ass. He left you for a blown up plastic Barbie doll because he couldn’t handle the real thing,” I said. And as soon as the words left my lips, I realized that Scarlett had become more than just some talkative girl I sat with at lunch every day. She was the closest thing to a girl friend I had. Ever since my mom left, anyway.

            She laughed, brushing her red hair away from her face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just feel guilty. Like, if I tried harder, he’d still be mine,” she said, sniffling.

            Her words took me back a few days, to those wrought iron chairs outside of Paradise.

            I couldn’t forget what Mase had said. The word guilt sounded countless times in my head in his strained, aching voice. A mix of emotions swirled in his concrete-colored eyes. He was angry and sad and grieving and tired. The way his long fingers raked through his hair, the skin stretching over his knuckles and threatening to tear as he clenched his fists. He was drowning in a pool of pain. But then, he pulled himself back out to safety. His fists unclenched and dropped to the table, his slumped shoulders standing straighter, his breaths becoming even again. And just like that, he pulled himself together, as if cupping the pieces of his tired soul into a neat pile in his hand

            The bell rang then, pulling me away from Paradise and back to school again. Scarlett stood, scooping up her tray. She still looked sad as she turned to walk away. And before I could think twice about what I was doing, I called out to her.

           “We should hang out. You know, watch movies and eat junk food or something,” I said

           Her eyes lit up and she smiled. “You’d want to do that?” she asked.

           I nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

           “Not a lot of people like to hang out with a talker like me,” she said, shrugging.

            “And not a lot of people want to hang out with the silent girl either,” I said. Even before my mother left, I didn’t have a phonebook full of friends. I talked to a couple of girls from my classes, but never hung out with them. My mother needed me at home. I felt like my presence helped keep her mind off of things. But apparently, it didn’t work as well as I thought it would.

           “Guess it works out then, doesn’t it?” she said, smiling. She told me she’d text me later before rushing off to class. I did the same, stopping at my locker before heading to Art.

           Mase was already seated at our table, working on a sketch. I watched as he gripped the pencil in his left hand, making light strokes in the middle of the paper. His hair fell slightly over his eyes, as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I smiled, thinking back to last week when I told him how good he was at drawing. He rolled his eyes, claiming anyone could do the same. He then proceeded to compliment my mess of a sunset I had been working on.

           “Hey Mase,” I said, sitting next to him. I liked seeing him lost in a drawing, the sadness clear from his eyes for just a little while.

           “Hey,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

           “What are you working on?” I asked. He’d drawn the silhouette of a person at a distance, the strokes of pencil so light, you could barely see them.

           “There’s this girl I know. I’ve wanted to draw her since I first met her,” he said, turning back to the drawing. “But she’s a tough one.”

            “I’m sure you’ll figure her out,” I said, a twinge of something pulsing in my heart, knowing he was working on figuring out someone else. It was a hint of sadness. Because even though I built up a brick wall to keep everyone out, I knew that if anyone was going to break it down, or find a way around it, I’d want it to be him. I had to make the decision to let him though. As if he knew what I was thinking, his next words mimicked the ones in my mind.

            “I just hope she lets me,” he said, his liquid eyes pouring into mine.

            Miss Darling called out to the class then, explaining the second part to our project. I thought back to Paradise again, picturing his eyes as he said the words that caused him to cumble. A part of me urged to ask him the reason for his guilt. And then there was a part of me asking what the reason for my own guilt was. I’d felt angry and sad and hopeless. It was their words, both Scarlett’s and Mase’s, that made me realize I felt guilt, too. There were things I could have done or words I could have said to stop my mother from wanting to take a fist of sleeping pills. She had something to live for. She had me to live for, but I wasn’t enough. Just like Scarlett, I knew that if I had tried harder, she might still be mine.

Author's Note: I know there isn't a lot of Mase in this chapter, but poor Scarlett was having a tough time so I had to write one for her. :) What'd you think? Please leave comments with your thoughts(Because those make me smile.) And VOTE if you liked it! Also, check out the picture of the characters on the side(or in Info if you're using the app). Thank you<3 -Shahira