⎈
Mishka
The car is quiet all the way home. But not the earlier quiet. The different quiet. The quiet that screams: you'll never talk to me again.
He parks at my gate. What did I do? I just comforted him.
"Get out. I never wanna see your face ever again."
"Why?" I ask, looking over at him. For the longest while I've been numb. But tonight, hurt seep into my bones like a disease. "Did I do something?"
"No. You know maybe you're right. You aren't so good-looking, Mishka."
I swallow. "What?"
"Your eyes are big. Fucking big and watery. And you're teeth aren't the prettiest either. Tell me, why would I want to hang around you?"
My eyes water even more, and I wish they'd stop. "Really. You kissed me..."
"Yeah, I was horny."
"Goodbye." I climb out of the car, hearing a faint "shit," as I slam the door. But I just heard things—he didn't say that.
•
"No, Kitara. It's five. Five is the answer." I groan.
My little sister erases what she has and puts the correct answer on her homework.
"Stop being so mean to your sister!" Mom continues, "or I'm gonna let them take her away..."
My head snaps to hers at the mention of that. Trisha is always guilt-tripping me. Always saying she'll let child services take my sister away if I don't do what she wants.
Angry, I climb up off the ground and run upstairs.
Inside the bathroom, I strip my clothes off and go sit in the discoloured tub of cold water, hugging my knees.
"No. You know maybe you're right. You aren't so good-looking, Mishka."
"Your eyes are big. Fucking big and watery. And your teeth aren't the prettiest either. Tell me, why would I want to hang around you?"
I press my nose against my arm, a tear rolling down my face.
"Hey, girl, hurry up, I need to pee!" Trisha calls outside. "We can't keep stealing water here, so find a job soon! Come on, I'm spraying all over the floor!"
•
"Are you on your period? There's a red stain on your chair?"
I look back. Seeing that in fact, there is a red stain.
"Thanks." I smile at the freckled-face girl. She nods and turns to walk out of the class.
I call out to her. "Hey, um, do you have...any..."
She looks at me and shakes her head. "Yeah...but only tampons..."
I can't use that...I hate them.
"Oh...okay..."
She purses her lips and walks away. I sigh, shaking away the feeling of dread seeping over me.
Luckily, I'm the only one left here. I'll wait at the back of this lab, until most of the kids clear out of the school, and then I'll leave. I'll walk home.
I make my way to the back and squat with my bag on my lap. I wince as I look down at the scab on my knee. It's opening again.
I press my forehead against my arm.
Suddenly, the door to the lab pushes open. My head lifts slowly, but my body tingles as I see RJ and two other guys coming in.
I stare down at my jeans.
"Fifty pounds, wanker. I don't play that way," RJ's saying, as the guy dips into his pocket, a white plastic bag of white substance in the other.
RJ looks to his left, and our eyes connect. I quickly reposition my gaze to the floor.
"Hey, girl, you good?" The other guy asks. He's talking to me.
I don't answer.
"See you two tomorrow..." RJ says quietly.
I don't look up. When he's finished, he'll leave.
The two guys leave the room, the guy who was asking me if I'm fine, looking back once again.
The door clamps shut.
But I can still smell RJ. I can smell his cigarettes. His perfume.
"What's up?" He calls to me, and his voice echoes in the quiet classroom. "You good?"
I peek up, but don't say anything.
I press my forehead on my arm.
"Mishka."
Why he wants to talk to the ugly girl?
I hear his feet against the ground as he crosses the floor. I squeeze my arm, refusing to look up.
"Mishka..."
I'm having a slight tummy ache. I don't feel like talking. Don't really feel like making it up with him. Not that he wants to make it up with me. I'm reaching—in RJ's famous words.
He squats. The breeze of his perfume meets my nose. It hurts my belly even more. "What's wrong?"
I lift my gaze to meet his.
His brows furrow. "Someone hurt you?"
I shake my head.
"Then what's wrong?" His forehead hasn't smoothed out. He doesn't entirely believe my half-lie. Someone's hurt me. He did.
"I...my..."
He stares at me, bewildered at first, and then his eyes glow with understanding. "Oh. Then why are you here?"
I don't say anything, and after a few seconds, he swallows and asks: "want me to go get some for you?"
I nod again.
"Okay...I'll run to the pharmacy. The nurse has locked up; won't get any there..." He stands.
I peer up at him. "You know what to do?"
"Yeah. I used to buy them for my mom and Layla."
"I'm sorry." I say truthfully.
"For getting your period?"
I blush. "No. I'm sorry you have to buy that for me...when it probably reminds you of your sister..."
"It's okay. I can't watch you bleed all over the floor."
My neck gets warm. "Thanks..."
"I'll be right back. Don't move from here."
"I can't move."
"Okay. Here..." He starts to pull his dark-grey T-shirt over his head, leaving him in a light blue wife-beater. He squats, his sneakers squeaking against the floor as he rolls up the neck of the shirt and puts it over my head.
I stare up at him, feeling my heart beating in ways I can't imagine.
"Don't look at me like that..." he says softly, "you're sick. I can't fuck you."
"You'd fuck me?"
"Definitely not." He stands up again, but he looks a little red, like all the blood is rushing to his face.
Definitely not. I forgot I'm the ugly girl...
RJ leaves the class to go to the pharmacy. The sun is setting now. The caretaker will soon need to close the class. I've missed the bus a thousand times over, so I'll have to really walk home. RJ won't drop me. He isn't fond of me anymore. Probably never was in the first place.
Soon, I hear his footsteps outside of the room, and then the door is opening again. He's back fast. The bag is bigger than it'd have been had he picked up only sanitary pads.
"Got you some warm patches. Over-the-counter pills for pain. All sorts of other stuff."
"You didn't have to." I say, then mutter: "especially since I'm so ugly..."
RJ hears but doesn't comment on it. His face forms a tiny frown, though. He said it; why he acting like he's never heard it before?
He helps me up. Red coats parts of my jeans. RJ doesn't care, he doesn't look. Like he's been here before. I feel sorry for him. Feel so bad he's lost so much of his family. I hate that he blames himself. I want to say something, but he'll only get mad and tell me to stay away from him again.
The bathrooms are closed, so there's nowhere to clean up.
"I'll take you home." He says, surprising me.
Remembering Trisha and her drunk behaviours, I shake my head. "It's okay..."
"I'll take you to my crib then. Is that okay?"
I nod a little. "Okay..."
We walk out of the school building. RJ opens the door to his car, and I hesitate.
"What's wrong?" He asks.
"I-I'll only mess your seat up..." I remind him.
"It's leather. I'll just clean it tomorrow."
"Oh. Okay..." I slide inside and bundle his shirt above my waist so I don't sit on it. Wouldn't want to mess it up too.
RJ gets around to his side and starts up the engine, then he guns out of the grounds.