A World No Longer Heliocentric

7: Liam

I've been staying with Jack since I got Mom admitted. His family was the wholesome kind, parents in love and screaming little brothers and sisters. I always envied Jack for that, even though he's my best friend. He knew immediately as soon as I texted him in the hospital, asking for a ride to school from the hospital, that I'd need a place to stay. He saw the news about the fire at my house and someone at the hospital tipped them off and told them it was my mother.

When I walked through the front doors of the school that morning with Jack, my hands shook in my jacket pockets. Friends patted my back when I got near them and a couple of girls smiled at me. For some reason, I didn't like it. They should be treating me like the friggin freak show. But once again, they all praised me. Worse of all, as I headed to my first class, Madison had herself on my trail, following me like a puppy dog.

"I'm fine," I snapped at her. "Go to your class."

"I know you're fine," she poked her finger in the middle of the chest. She always did this when she wanted to make a dramatic scene in the hallway. But I didn't have time for her dumb shit today. I backed away from her, but she continued to follow me. "How do you think it looks when your boyfriend's mom burns her house to the ground and you're in the hospital and I'm the last one to know about it?"
"Why do you care?" I laughed. "That's what you're worried about? Your stupid reputation."

"I have one to uphold," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I don't care," I remarked. "We're done, Madison." Her face crumbles as she's ready to cry. This moment really made me realize that I didn't mean anything to her. I thought I did and that's why I didn't break up with her sooner, but then I realized that she only needed me for her stupid reputation, which actually no one cares about.

The rest of that day, I had to fight the urge not to punch someone, or run off out of school. This is routine for the next three days, the only thing that kept me going was knowing I was hanging out with Bella today. Now she sat next to me in this dim-lit living room. The room was so plain, no pictures, no decorations. Just the comfy dark blue couch and an oak coffee table.

"I have a question," Bella says when we're an hour into researching the physics portion behind this project. "Why did you break up with Madison?" I could see the regret on her face as soon as she asks, but I laugh.

"You heard about that?" I chuckle.

"It was all over the school," she runs her fingers through her hair. She does that a lot. It seems to settle her. "I wasn't there but Willow told me. Pretty mean move, breaking up with her in the middle of the hallway." I know I should be angry at this but it makes me smile.

"You want to know why I broke up with her right there and then?" I ask, resting my elbows on my knees. She nods. "Through everything I went through with my mom, she was worried about it ruining her stupid reputation." I expected some sort of reaction out of Bella but nothing. She just blinks once. I can't tell if she thinks it's bull or she just isn't surprised.

"I used to be friends with her," she says after a minute of silence. "In sixth grade? Yeah, sixth grade. She was literally the horse girl. And then, seventh grade came, she completely changed."
"Honestly though," I sigh. "We kinda all changed. It's not really something we can control. Things happen and people change." She rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything. But I can tell there's a bubble in her chest about to burst because she looks up quickly, her face furious.

"I haven't changed," she says quickly. Her voice is urgent like she's scared that she's going to forget her words. "Everyone is always talking about how they're completely different but I'm not."

She seems sad about this like change is such an awful thing to think of. I guess sometimes it is. But why is she so negative about everything? It must be exhausting overthinking everything. I sit back now, and she does too. Suddenly, I realize what she means. She has been through the most life-altering change, getting cancer, and she stayed true to herself. Sure, she endured small altercations but minor ones. She lost her confidence and started to keep to herself but she never lost that passion for needing to understand everything. That's obviously why she asked so many questions. She needed to understand what really happened, not what she hears.

We worked on the project for two more hours, studying the material for presentation and building the structure. She didn't hesitate to correct me when I defined a term wrong in practicing presenting or pause when she had to speak, every word flowing through her like she's been practicing for weeks. But we just got assigned this project this week and wrote our presentation speeches five minutes ago. Already, she has it memorized, word for word. I watch her in fascination, lost in the sound of her voice.

"How was that?" she says.

"Fine," I mumble, readjusting my position.

"What's wrong?" she says, her forehead wrinkling between her eyes. "Did I say the wrong term? Oh my god. Did I say the wrong law again? Liam?!" She grabs her sheet from the coffee table and mutters the words under her breath. I can't help but grin at her possessiveness.

We spend the next thirty minutes practicing our speeches. We're already done with our paper portion and building the model. We finished the project in less than four hours and it wasn't because of me. When we finally lie back on the couch, exhausted, I look over at Bella. She's grinning like a crazy person, her face lit up like a candle.

"Why did we just do our whole project now?" I ask. "It's not due for another month."

"Because," she says, sitting up. "This way we have plenty of time to test out our experiment, the more trials, the more effective this device will be. If it breaks, we can redo it but tweak it." How could she always be ten steps ahead? I wanted to hear her thoughts, match them to her expressions because despite how much of an open book she is, I can never predict her reaction or opinion on something I say.

Suddenly, a shadow forms on her face, like someone blew away that candle that lit up her face and she sat back down fast like she couldn't handle the weight of her own body. I'm by her side in less than a second, ready to do anything she needed me for. I used to do this all the time with my mom. If she needed me, I would be there in less than a second, by her side.

The thought of my mom in parallel to Bella makes me back away quickly. She's not your mom, I had to tell myself, my head spinning. She's not manic, she won't go crazy on you, back away. But Bella already catches on, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. I know she's trying to figure me out, her forehead scrunched up again in between her eyes, which squint slightly. I look away, scared she will actually figure it out.

"I'm fine," she says. "Really, I'm okay. The IL2 just takes a lot out of me."

"How are you home right now?" I ask. I really wanted to ask why she wasn't in a hospital at the moment but I knew that would offend her.

She doesn't answer, tucking her hands in her arms and shudders a bit. Beads of sweat dot along her hairline and she breathes heavily. How could she have been walking around excitedly a minute ago and suddenly be in such distress?

I think of my mom, always needing something. Whether it's a compression hug to stop her tantrums, or a sedative (the doctor gave me rights for giving her one if necessary) if she looks manic, she constantly needed something. But Bella just sits there, fending for herself. I watch as she takes deep breaths to control her raspy breathing and rubs her arms. She's stronger than my mother ever was. Her strength radiates off her through her calm facial expressions and her hair that, despite her sick manner, flows over her shoulders freely, not sticky from sweat or tangled. Long and free.