What You're Not | ✔

06. Miss Attitude

There weren't many people outside in the quad because it was getting colder as we settled into to the fall season, and most people chose to be inside. Finding a secluded bench to sit at, I pulled out my sketch book and continued the design for cheerleader uniforms.

They were never going to be made into a reality, but focusing on the design eased my mind a bit.

The peacefulness of my solitude didn't last long as someone plopped down beside me, knocking me to the side and causing me to ruin part of the sketch.

I looked over to find Miles there with a stupid, goofy grin on his face. He wore his usual lettermen jacket, but underneath he wore a suit and tie. A requirement for game day. He looked nice all dressed up and I hated myself for thinking that while there were more pressing matters on my mind.

"You stood me up last night, Mermaid," Miles said, ignoring my glaring at him. "That hurt, it really did."

"I'm not in the mood today," I said, trying to erase the unwanted pencil mark on my design.

"I'm just saying, I waited for you," he continued. "For almost two hours."

Maybe if I ignore him he'd go away.

A silence stretched between us when I didn't respond to him. For a second I thought I had won. The victory was short lived as he opened his mouth again.

"If you weren't going to come you should've said something."

There were those words again. Those words constantly echoed in my head and I didn't need him to remind me of them.

"You're really going to sit there and act like—"

"Leave me the hell alone!" I snapped.

He looked taken aback by my outburst. For a moment we just stared at each other. My heated gaze met with his confused one. After a while his expression changed to one more sympathetic.

"What's wrong?"

That boy just couldn't take a hint.

Shoving my sketch pad and pencil into my bag, I stood up from the bench and walked away. Next thing I knew I was exiting school grounds.

+ + +

It was a little after 4 p.m. when I decided to go home. The sight of Mom's car still in the driveway made me hesitate a bit. I'm sure she was notified of my absence. No, I'm positive of that considering the number of missed calls I had from her. She was upset with me and rightfully so.

Regardless, that wasn't something I wanted to deal with at the moment. I'd have to face her wrath sooner or later. So, I sucked in a deep breath and went inside.

"Loren?" She called out before emerging from the kitchen.

For a split second she look relieved, but that quickly morphed into angry. As if to say "I'm glad you're alive, because now I can kill you."

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded. "And why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, walking down the hall to my room.

"You're sorry?" she scoffed, her voice close behind me. "That doesn't answer my questions."

"I didn't feel like talking to anyone," I said, dropping down on my mattress.

"I don't care what you didn't feel like doing. When I call you, you answer," she said. Her voice was shaky this time and I looked up at her, noticing her tears pooling in her eyes. My heart broke.

How could I have thought me not answering my phone would've only been seen as an act of teenage rebellion? The last time I ignored her calls she found me in a hospital bed.

"I'm sorry," I said, that time meaning it. My own eyes began to water. "The nightmares started again last night."

The dream was more like a replay of the accident. Dad with bloodshot eyes and smelling of alcohol when he came to pick me up from the party. Him, too distracted from yelling at me to pay attention to the road. Me, yelling at him when he ran the red light. What happened after was a blur and I was at least grateful for that.

Mom lowered herself onto the mattress beside me.

"Maybe you should start going to the support group," she suggested. "For real this time."

I held back an eye roll. The support group didn't help with anything. I had only gone once, just to see what it was about. After the crap about not wasting my life away I decided it wasn't for me.

Instead on support group days, after Mom would drop me off, I'd go across the street to an arcade. That was where I found my peace of mind. I spent countless hours playing air hockey with a staff member named Rhett.

Mom wasn't aware of that until one day I jumped the gun and snuck off to the arcade before she had left the lot.

"Only if you supply the quarters," I said in response.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "You can't keep burying it, you have to confront it head on."

"Thanks, but I think I like my method better."

"Is that right?" she questioned. "Skipping school and walking around with an attitude, that's your method?"

Well, when she put it like that, it didn't seem like the best way to deal with things.

She stood from the mattress, folding her arms across her chest as she looked down at me. "I can't force you to go. But if you skip school again—"

"I won't." I promised.

She gave me one final look before turning to leave. Exhausted from the day, I laid down for a nap.