Dissonance | ✓

13 | Miasma

     My family and I hardly exchanged any words the day before I left. Before dawn, I jogged through the woods with Lydia. We spoke–through pants–about school and our favorite flowers. Ximena and I hung out at her grandmother's home, in the evening, before heading out to the town at night. The remainder of the time was spent locked in my room, either online or studying ahead.

      My suitcase was never fully unpacked, which made preparing to leave much easier. All I had to put in it were some supplies, to replenish my pencil case, and winter clothes for the season approaching.

     The bus back to school was scheduled to arrive at the McLaren bus station by nine AM, and depart at ten AM. That only left a one hour window open for me to reach there on time. I deemed it possible, considering there were no long goodbyes to be done—I had already bid Lydia farewell the day before and my family counted themselves out a while ago.

     Outside the house, I rolled my bag to the gate. The taxi I called earlier clambered up the hill, just as my mother paced to me from inside the house. 

     "Colleen, how are you going to leave without saying goodbye?" mother scolded.

     I pivoted my head just enough to see her in the corner of my eye. "Sorry. Bye." my voice was monotonous.

     "Hey," she snapped. "Show some respect."

     I reluctantly turned around. "Oh, mommy, please forgive me. I'm going to miss you more than anything! How will I fend without you?" I could not hold back the laughter that followed. Evidently, mother did not appreciate it.

     "You know what? Be that way. Just know that you won't be coming home until spring break. We've signed you up to do course work on campus, during vacations, until then."

     "Fine with me. It's better than being in this hell hole." I snarled.

     The taxi honked behind me, an impatient driver hollering at me. I spun around, threw the yellow door open and collapsed into the car.

     "Where you headed?" the driver gnawed on a toothpick as he spoke. "McLaren station, please." The car kicked up speed.

     "Got it."

     I settled into the seat, pulling my hair into a high ponytail, and caught my reflection in the rear view mirror. My usual luxuriant blonde locks were matted and disheveled. Thankfully, the light makeup I dabbed on compensated for the mess on my head.

     As my house grew farther away, I mentally recapped on the past few days: a huge part of my life fell apart, yet I found the most sincere friends I had had in a long time. Sure, we had started out as enemies, but Ximena proved to care much more than a lot of people I had come across in my life. And Lydia—she fascinated me more than anything else. When I was suffocating in my sorrow—which, in hindsight, was far from actual sorrow—she distracted me from my thoughts. I did not know if that was her intention, but she helped me.

      Going back to school brought up mixed emotions in me. I did not study as much as I hoped to over the break, so getting back into the chem and bio setting was exciting. Contrarily, I was not particularly happy to see Miranda again. Ten percent of me was optimistic, thinking something might have taken over her and she decided to forgive me. The other ninety percent found that highly improbable.

     The miasma of Johnson's Stream broke me out of my thoughts, hitting me hard. I wrinkled my nose at the fume, and the memories that came back with it:

     As a ten year old, I lead a group of neighborhood kids to the stream. We would jump in the water, play games and share secrets—pretty much what any kids did. I was the ring leader, until my then-best friend kissed Logan Fry—the boy I had had crushed on since the second grade—in front of everybody and I threw a rock at her head. Of course she was not seriously hurt, but the group shunned me for it. They never acknowledged me again. Because of that, I was forced to importune the it girl' clique for friendship, which eventually worked out from me. From then on, shifting friend groups became a routine of mine. It was as if it was etched in my brain: make friends; fall out; move on; repeat.