Once again Cherish was questioning the world's desire to make her life a colossal misery. For the second time in one day, she was waking up in an unfamiliar place staring into the face of a guy. Only this time she didn't know the man whose face swam in her line of vision.
"Relax, Cherish," he said calmly, registering the panic in her eyes. Tucking a flashlight into his pocket, he smiled gently, "You are in an ambulance on the way to the hospital."
WHAT?
"You fainted due to severe dehydration and prolonged heat exposure."
She panicked again realising that this meant her father probably knew she had been drinking all night. In her disoriented state, she barely recognised the soft voice that followed the paramedic's words, "Will she be okay?"
"Yeah, she'll be fine. She just needs to rest and drink a lot of water."
Following the paramedic's gaze, she settled her eyes on her mother's comforting face.
"Hi, Babe. Happy Birthday."
That's right, she thought, my birthday. It took her some time to realise that her mother was not supposed to be there.
"Mom?" she gurgled before blacking out again.
-.-
Arriving at school early was normally an annoyance, forcing her to sit alone in her homeroom class till everyone else arrived. Not today; today Cherish leaned back in her seat and turned up the music in her car. Her brand new (at least to her) black with red leather interior, 1959 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight Holiday Sport Sedan. Muscle car, flames and all. It was a present from her parents, though she suspected her friends back home had a lot to do with it.
It didn't bother her that it had come from them, even though she wasn't about to call them up to thank them. They knew her well enough to know what kind of vehicle she wanted, and it was perfect. It had shocked her when she exited her home on Saturday morning to find it in her driveway.
Even still, the best part of her weekend had not been the car, it was her mother's visit. Renata McKinley was a brown skinned beauty; slender, tallish and perpetually young. Unlike any other mother she had ever known, her mother was first and foremost her friend and confidante. Renata McKinley never lectured, never grounded, never screamed or yelled or did much else a normal parent would do. Which was odd, considering her Indian background, and how strict Cherish was told her grandparents had been.
What Renata McKinley did was love, and that she did amazingly! She supported and cared. She trusted and allowed Cherish free reign to explore life. She gently guided and reprimanded with little to no condescension, making Cherish feel as if it had been her idea the whole time. And, she fixed or mended, no matter what the problem or how deep the gouge it left.
Cherish spent the entire weekend in the cooling comfort that was her mother. Though, with her mother's departure the night before, she knew the comfort would be short lived. Sighing as she hopped out of her car, she resolved she would try to make it last a week.
-.-
What had gotten into her? Harper stared at the back of Cherish's head wondering why she was so chipper. She was voluntarily talking to people, smiling and even laughing when appropriate. This was a girl reminiscent of the Cherish who used to visit Toronto years before, happy and slightly odd. This was not the Cherish he had finally grown used to- the one who avoided people and was constantly blank of any emotion.
She looked the same, well the same as she had since she moved here. But he had finally gotten used to that, too, the worn out, semi-baggy jeans, the button up shirts, the perpetually black and white with a hint of blue wardrobe. He had even gotten used to the hat that she crushed over top of her head, flattening her hair against it.
He reached out to tap her shoulder, his hand hovering above it while he wondered if he should say anything to her. Whatever, he thought as he pulled his hand away; she's not Cherish anymore anyways. He opened his textbook, sighing as he pulled his notebook from his bag. It was only Tuesday; there was still the rest of the week. He wondered if her mood would last.
Turning in her seat, Cherish grinned at him, "Hey Harp, how was the rest of your weekend?"
He stared blankly at her.
"My party was kind of a disaster, huh?"
He nodded after a minute, "You think?"
Her face was tinged pink as she nodded, "So, I've decided I can't be mad at you forever. And yeah, I've been a total bitch lately. If you don't really want to talk to me, that's fine- but I just wanted to say thanks for being there on Saturday. I completely forgot it was my birthday. Weird, huh?"
Pausing as he flipped open a notebook, he looked at her. Cherish was almost never apologetic, and most definitely never apprehensive and uncomfortable when it came to people. "You forgot it was your birthday?"
Laughing, she nodded, and pulled his notebook from him, correcting a wrong answer he had jotted down.
"And, you can thank Deals and Ari for the party. I really had nothing to do with it." he admitted blankly. With a nod, Cherish turned around in her seat,
"Thanks for the gift, Harp."
He didn't have the heart to admit to her that the gift had been from Delia, who got it when Harper said he was not planning on attending or send a gift. He knew well what it was, as he had pointed it out to Delia a while ago knowing Cherish would have loved it. It was a lamp, a B-movie horror lamp, with a scantily clad pin-up screaming under a streetlamp as a monster approached. He smiled, happy that she liked it.
-.-
Music class let out and Cherish was happy to leave the room, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she stepped out, two girls brushed past her, "Sev!" one of them latched onto him. "Haven't seen you in a while!"
She didn't hear his answer, her only mission to get away as soon as possible; the events of the weekend embarrassing her greatly. He hadn't said anything to her in class, in fact he hadn't even acknowledged her, but she couldn't help feeling as if he laughed at her when she wasn't looking. As she slammed the door of her car shut, she smiled, feeling safe in its belly. Pulling her lunch from her bag, she began to eat, only to wrap it back up quickly and exit her car again. There was no way she was losing her lunch spot because they ate there too. She wasn't so willing to let them ruin her mood either.
Tucking her bag under her arm she crossed the parking lot again and made her way through the hallways. As she pushed the door open, emerging onto the cool shaded veranda, she blinked, surprised to hear the laughter of girls. Without looking, she passed them and settled comfortably in her spot, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully as she dug in her bag. Pulling her sketchbook out she flipped the cover open and began scrawling a picture on it.
"Who's that?"
Like I'm not sitting right here, she thought, as one of the girls asked loudly. She heard Ian's reply, "That's Cherry."
"Oh. Oh! The one who passed out at the party?"
Inwardly cringing, she forcibly kept her expression blank and continued to draw.
"Really? She passed out? Tanya said she got so loaded, she was stripping!" the second girl laughed.
"It's not funny," the first girl whispered, "I heard that her friends ditched her, and then she got drunk, and then some guy was all over. I wouldn't want to go home after that, either."
"She doesn't have any friends- everyone knows that. Mom told me she had to lie for her so she could spend the night at Sev's place. What a loser! You don't even like her, do you, Sev?"
Cherish could hear the cross between ridicule and disdain in the girl's voice.
"Shut up, Jo!" she heard Ian reprimand.
"She's not deaf you know." Juss added, and called out to her, "Sorry, Cherish."
Unable to ignore the words direct at her, she flicked her eyes up, smiling at him, "Hey, Juss."
While looking at him, she caught sight of the girls; the same two who had rushed her in the hallway. One of them sneered at her. She decided she could avoid the guys tomorrow, and everyday after that, but today she would play nice, if only to annoy this Jo.
"Hey, Ian."
"Heya, Cherry. How're you feeling?
She pondered this a second, wondering if she should say good or great, or something along those lines. "Meh," was the response she settled for.
Ian laughed, and nodded knowingly before gesturing at the girls. "By the way, this is my sister, Joana, and this is Liz," he was gesturing to the two girls who sat with them.
Cherish nodded, "Hi."
The one she assumed was Liz- because no one had told her voice to shut up- smiled, "Hi, Cherry- I can call you that, right?"
"Yeah, why not," Cherish said defeated, "everyone else does."
Joana continued to glare at her, rather unnervingly, and then finally said a deadpan hi. Cherish wanted to laugh, this girl, who for some reason greatly disliked her, was wearing one of her sweaters. The little pink tab that Len put in the side of all the clothes she made brought a jolt of memory into her and she pushed it away before it had a chance to settle in her mind.
Instead she focused on little Jo's small black skirt and bright pink fishnets. The girl's black and otherwise nondescript shoes were propped up on Seven's knee. Her brown hair, tinted a bluish, greenish colour at her bangs, was messy and hanging loose around her face, reaching her chin in a blunt line. She didn't look much like Ian at all, except for the fact that she, too, was small.
"Why are you sitting all the way over there?" Liz asked, "You're too far away."
Ian and Juss laughed at the startled look on Cherish's face; they knew she had wanted to avoid them. Reluctantly, she slid her bag along to floor to them and then shuffled her butt along till she sat closer, leaning against the wall near Seven. She offered them all an awkward smile and a small pseudo wave. Joana glared at her, "So, Cherry, is it? You're pretty fun at parties, huh?"
"I get by." Cherish said, willing herself not to flush.
Seven smirked as he stuffed a few fries into his mouth, "She does."
Joana ignored his comment while scooting closer to him, her feet still resting on his knee, "Yeah, I bet. Get around is more like it. Well, most drunken whores are considered fun."
Seven coughed, his shock evident on his face, and he gaped at Joana. Cherish wanted to point out that with the way Joana was sitting, both Seven and herself had a positively lovely view of her neon green "suck me" panties.
"Fuck, Jo! Quit being such a bitch." Ian slapped his sister's arm. Juss just stared at her in shock, and even Liz, her friend, looked entirely annoyed by her comment.
Cherish regarded her with mock thoughtfulness, "Hmm, I get that often. Weird, huh?"
Either the sarcasm was totally lost on Jo, or she really wanted to get in the last word, "Probably because you are," she said in a tone that denoted her speaking to a particularly dense species of idiot. Ian was readying himself to say something, as was Juss but Cherish smiled politely as she beat them to it.
"I guess so," she sighed in an air-headed way, "I should get panties like yours to make it official. Where'd you get them?"
In the shocked pause that followed, it was Seven who cracked first, his eyes flicking down and then back up again, his laughter coming in loud spurts. Juss howled, grinning widely at Cherish and Liz giggled, although she, at least, did try to hide it.
"Jo, you deserved that!" Ian sighed after he calmed a bit.
Glaring angrily, Jo stood, "Whatever, bitch. No wonder they hate you."
Liz ran after her friend, shooting an apologetic look Cherish's way. Juss clapped a hand on her shoulder, "That was great!" he chortled.
"I don't hate her!" Ian said finally realising what Jo had meant.
Juss shook his head, "She doesn't know what she's talking about," he whispered to her. "She's just pissed because you made her look like an idiot in front of Seven and she's not over him yet."
When Cherish only looked at him blankly, he grinned, "They used to date."
Seven finally stopped laughing and looked oddly at Cherish, his lip suddenly curling up in disgust, "She probably thinks we slept together or something."
-.-
Friday night. She should have been out having fun- or something. She should have been doing anything other than trying to catch up on her homework. For the past three nights she had found herself unable to focus on anything but the last words she had heard from Seven's mouth.
She probably thinks we slept together or something.
Initially, the words had shocked her; how could anyone think that she would want to sleep with him? The thought disturbed and disgusted her and on Tuesday she had wanted nothing more than for the image in her head to disappear.
To be fair, before she had moved, she probably would have found Seven very appealing. She could admit that to herself openly, although, it would never have progressed further than a crush. She even acknowledged the fact that she had been attracted to him when she first examined him during art. But now, she knew better.
One would think that as often as he gets judged on his appearance, he wouldn't be so quick to do the same to others. But that's exactly what he did, deciding he didn't like her because she looked like a boring, goody two shoes, prude. Which she wasn't. Not at all. He just didn't know her- and probably never would.
She had decided, after everything that had happened since she had met the guys, that she quite disliked Seven. Sure, if she was judging his book purely by it's cover, he seemed great. She'd even go so far as to say he seemed like her type of guy. But he was an ass. From the way he'd spoken about her sister to piss her off, to the way he'd taken pleasure in her hungover discomfort. Of all the possibilities out there, as if she would want to sleep with him!
By Wednesday something struck her; he was disgusted by the thought of it! She was indignant when the thought hit her in her third period English class. Ian had looked at her curiously as she silently fumed, slamming her things around her desk.
I'm disgusting? That ass is more... ugh...than I am!
She wasn't undesirable, in fact she had been told on more than one occasion how attractive she was (sometimes in words that made her want to punch the speaker in the face). Yes, that was before she'd moved to Toronto and started dressing like she'd spent her life under cars in a garage. But still, under the mechanic clothes, she was pretty damn amazing. He didn't know what he was missing!
As if he could do better than me!
By Thursday she had come to the realisation that it shouldn't bother her that he was disgusted by the things Joana thought they had done. She was extremely disturbed by it herself, so why should it matter? The more she thought about it, the dumber it made her feel; not to mention superficial. She sucked up her partially bruised ego and realised that ignoring the guys had become so much easier since Tuesday afternoon.
By Friday she was over it, back to being quiet aloof Cherish. Kicking her textbook closed she laid back on her bed, rethinking that afternoon. Still unable to focus on her homework, she decided to do it all the next day; it's not like she did anything with her Saturdays anyways. She thought back on her week and it hadn't been so bad; she had managed to keep her mood from dropping too low. Had managed to keep the calm that her mother's visit had lent her.
She had eaten in the cafeteria with Harper and Delia on Wednesday and, surprising herself, joked with Delia like old times. On Thursday she survived through a lunch at Ari's table, sitting uncomfortably between Brooklyn and Stan as they all discussed mindless things like movies and popular music. She had managed to keep her mind too preoccupied to think about Len. With a smile she sighed, it hadn't been so bad. She could continue this. She could easily keep this up. This... coasting.
*Title song by The Meteors