My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 53: Break a Leg!

I nodded, swallowing thickly. "Me too."

"Do you want us to come watch your performance?" Linda asked me the next morning.

Paul sat at the table with us, which was jarring, but the weirdest part was how normal it seemed. When Linda announced he'd come back to live with us again, I'd hoped there wouldn't be long uncomfortable silences, but instead we had the opposite problem: his misdeeds brushed away with the flick of a wrist.

"It's not a performance, we're just doing a little routine before the intramural game; that's the real event."

"Still, we want to see you," Paul said.

"Please don't; the last thing I need is you causing a Beatlemania riot."

He nodded, looking down at his spinach omelet sadly. I knew I'd hurt his feelings, but it was true. The Beatles might have peaked when most of my classmates were too young to attend their concerts, but there were still loads of teens who'd flock to Paul on sight- Rosie was proof of that. Besides, I wanted to avoid him running into Mr. Grant if I could. 

"Well, good luck," Linda said. "Break a leg, as the thespians say."

"Here's your uniform." Rosemary handed a navy and white skirt and shirt to me outside the locker room. "If you'd have come to practice yesterday, we could have made sure it was a proper fit, but, as it is, you'll you have to make do."

I accepted them, mouth twitching in the barest effort of a smile, tucked them under my arm before entering the locker room. I went into my row to change, but when I arrived, Cammie screamed, covering her half-naked form with her sweater.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she squeaked.

"Me, what the bloody hell is wrong with you? Why are you screaming your lungs out?"

"Because you came here to stare at me changing, it's gross! Can't you go somewhere else?"

A crowd of cheerleaders collected around me, arms folded like a gang of rockers ready to rough me up for encroaching on their territory. I couldn't find Thelma among them and I suspected she'd received the same treatment. Were all the girls devoutly religious, or did they simply hate the 'other' on principle? 

Nostrils flaring, I turned back to Cammie. "I wouldn't touch an ugly cunt like you with a ten-foot pole!"

The room collectively gasped, but I didn't stick around to see if she'd be able to muster up a cutting reply, shoving my way out of the locker room and down the hall. I changed in a bathroom, cramming my gym bag on top of the books in my regular locker rather return to the dragon's nest. How was I supposed to cheer with those girls when they treated me like a leper? 

Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed most of it down, spitting the excess into a nearby bin before sliding down the wall and putting my head between my knees. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, too many emotions and sensations crashing through my brain at once. I couldn't sort through them, couldn't make sense of the colors and sounds, so I needed to stop them altogether. 

After checking to make sure no one was around, I took out a small, sealed baggie of the heroin Mick gave me, pouring a bit onto the back of my hand and snorting it off. It was harder to do on such a soft surface as opposed to a dish or table; I should carry a spoon with me from now on.