NICOLE
I slept on and off the rest of the day on Tuesday, waking up every once and a while because my dreams haunted me too much to go back to sleep. Then exhaustion would sink in again and I'd doze off just to escape from my tormented thoughts, because they were even worse than my sleeping revelations. I didn't eat anything or even get out of bed until Wednesday morning, when Mom shook me awake with wide eyes.
"Nicole, honey," she said, smoothing down my matted hair. I'd never bothered to dry it after my shower Monday evening, and it had dried wavy and frizzy. "You need to eat something. Brush your hair and come downstairs for breakfast."
I rolled over onto my back and groaned; she had just woken me up for a particularly awful nightmare, and I didn't know whether I was less eager to face the day or go back to sleep.
Mom shook me again gently, her lips set in a thin line. "Nicole, please get up. You should go to school, too; it'll be good for you."
When I thought about going to school and walking through hallways without my best friend at my side, or eating lunch without hearing her smack her gum excruciatingly loudly or gossip about what had happened at the latest party, made my heart hurt. But staying here in bed and hearing her screaming every time I closed my eyes was still worse, so I reluctantly swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat up straight.
"That's my brave girl," said Mom, leaning forward to kiss my cheek before standing and heading downstairs. I watched her disappear before standing up myself and stumbling over to my closet.
Still swept up in my latest dream, I halfheartedly yanked some clothes out of my closet and pulled them on. I saw that I'd accidentally grabbed a ratty-looking t-shirt with a quote on it, but I didn't even care that shirts with words on them were against dress code and I'd probably get in trouble for wearing it. It was a miracle that I was even attending school today.
Since it was still early and since I looked like a wreck, I made myself get in the shower, but everything reminded me of Morgan. The body wash perched on the ledge was a bottle that Morgan had gotten me for my birthday last year; she had wrapped it with bright wrapping paper and had paired it with matching perfume and lotion. As I rubbed it on and then rinsed it off in the shower water, I felt like I was washing Morgan herself away, and I had to choke back more tears as I switched off the shower and began to get dressed.
I didn't bother straightened or curling my hair as I dried it, feeling like I was defying my old self. All I'd ever used to want was to be unique, to look different than I usually did and to act like someone other than myself. Now I wore minimal makeup and didn't even bother to fix my hair or put effort into my outfit. I felt like I at least owed it to Morgan to be Nicole Thorn entirely, without a trace of fakeness or anyone else.
By the time I'd made it to school, I'd nearly melted down into tears three times and I was struggling to keep my eyes focused on the road ahead of me, where I was driving. All I wanted was to be back inside my bed, curled up in my crisp white sheets and fast asleep where the tortures of daytime and reality could never reach me. Never mind those nightmares I'd been having--anything was better than being completely conscious of the fact that I, with my transformations and my changes, had practically been the one to kill my best friend.
I whipped my car into a parking space near the school entrance, slamming on my brakes right before I hit the curb and then unbuckling. Before I let myself step out into the parking lot, I forced myself to take deep breaths. I didn't know if I could make it through the day with everything weighing down on me, but I at least had to try.
Finally, I was able to swing my backpack over my shoulders and make my way to the front door of the school, staring at the ground beneath me so that I didn't have to meet anyone's eyes. I knew I'd be singled out today, because I'd been Morgan's best friend, but all I wanted was to be invisible. It was something I would have never wished on myself a few weeks ago, but now, it seemed like the only way to make it through.
The hallways were too loud as I walked down them, still staring at the floor and refusing to accept that people were even acknowledging my presence. My gut felt like it had been punched and tears were constantly threatening to spill over onto my cheeks as I made the long trek to my locker, remembering how Morgan and I used to always walk together. The empty space beside me where she should have been was like a ghost, and whenever I turned to look at her out of habit, all I saw was emptiness or a stranger.
"Nicole."
Someone grabbed my hand and turned me gently around, and I saw myself standing face to face with Noah. In that moment I wanted to scream and kick him and sob, because the last thing I could handle right now was him looking me in the eye and acting like he loved me when I knew what a fraud he really was.
"Get away from me," I growled, my voice coming out low and dangerous.
Noah moved his arms up to my waist until he was holding me firmly into place, his eyes soft as they stared into mine. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said quietly, rubbing small circles into my back. I tensed up tightly against his arms and he kissed the top of my head, saying, "Everything will be okay. I can't imagine what you must be going through, but I'm going to be here for you, okay?"
Boiling emotions overcame me. He had no idea what I was living through right now, and he didn't even care to know. Pretending like he was a loyal boyfriend on any normal day made me mad, but acting like this after the death of my best friend was a blow I couldn't shake. He didn't even care about Morgan, and he wasn't even giving me time to grieve. All he wanted to do was make sure he kept me as his girlfriend, so that he would win his selfish, stupid bet and get his free ticket to Vegas. He'd say whatever he needed to, even if that meant treating me this way when I was clearly broken.
I yanked my hand away from his and slapped him as hard as I could across the cheek, so that I felt a sting in my palm that even brought tears to my eyes. I'd put all of my hurt and all of my anger into that one slap, wanting to pain him like he had pained me. I wanted him to feel some of the suffering and agony I was going through, to understand that I wasn't just someone he could mess around with.
Nicole Thorn would have never dreamed of slapping anyone, but it was something that Morgan Chavez definitely would have done.
"Nicole! What the---" Noah trailed off, holding his cheek in one hand and staring at me as if he'd never seen me before. I was satisfied to see that a red imprint of my palm was imprinted just beneath his cheekbone.
I just glared at him, not letting myself cry in front of him because I wanted to see me look strong and powerful. I'd thought I'd achieve a look of control and authority as Hannah, playing dress-up as the girl I'd always dreamed of being, but now, I saw it in Nicole. I could be strong. And I wasn't going to bow to his will anymore. By the end of Saturday, I would never have to speak to him again.
"Nicole, baby." Noah slowly dropped his hand from his cheek, blinking slowly as if to ease the evident ache in his cheek. "What was that for?"
"I told you to get away from me," I said clearly, tensing in anticipation of him trying to grab me again. "I'll slap you again, I swear I will."
But Noah didn't back away. He just snatched both of my hands and easily pinned them against the wall, exactly as he had that night in the bathroom, when I was Hannah. "Let me explain to you how this works, sweetie," he said, his face close to mine. "I know you're hurting right now, okay? But letting my girlfriend slap me in the face doesn't do much for my image, so I'm not going to let you do it."
Tears sprung into my eyes at the mention of his "image" again. How could he even think of that when an amazing, beautiful, powerful girl had just died, and when the world was still trying to make up for the enormous hole she'd left behind?
"The guys aren't impressed if I have a girlfriend who back talks me like you do," Noah was continuing, his minty breath overtaking me in wave after wave and making me feel dizzy. "Seriously, Nicole, stop it."
I wanted so badly to ask him about his plane ticket and his bet, if that was literally all he cared about in this world, but I knew I had to keep my mouth shut.
Slowly, Noah dropped my hands one by one, until they hung limply at my sides, but he kept his hands firmly pressed against the wall to keep me pinned in place. "Nicole," he said slowly, staring at me straight in the eye, "You're not going to do that again, are you?"
The guys from the lacrosse team had stopped to watch, wolf-whistling as they watched Noah put me in my place. And so I did the only thing I could possibly think to do with my burning anger: I kneed him as hard as I could, right between the legs, and then snapped harshly, "I'm not impressed with a lot of things you do, Noah."
He visibly cringed and fell back against the wall, glaring at me, and I turned on my heel to stride past his teammates on my way to my locker. Surprisingly, they all parted the way for me, half watching me with awe and half snorting at Noah, who was still trying to blink back an expression of agony and succeeding at looking like a stranded fish.
By the time I made it to my locker, the encounter had physically drained me, and I slumped against the wall and tried to breathe while also trying not to cry. A shadow fell over me and I glanced up, startled, expecting it to be Noah but surprised when I saw Chloe standing in front of me.
"Hey," she said quietly, biting down on her lip. The dark eye makeup she wore both above and below her eyes reminded me too much of Morgan's the last day I saw her, and I looked away so that I was staring at the cold metal of my locker.
Chloe took a step closer to me, almost wary. "I'm sorry about what happened," she said. When I turned back to face her, I saw she was watching me steadily. "I really am. And I just wanted to tell you...what you did back there--" She tipped her head in the direction of Noah and his friends. "That was pretty awesome."
I managed a smile, and even though it was small and sad and sort of helpless-looking, at least I made my lips turn upwards slightly. "Thanks," I said.
She reached forward and hugged me carefully before turning around to head back down the hallway, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulders as she walked.
The second she'd turned the corner, I slid down until I was sitting on the floor and buried my head in my arms. I had English first period, but the thought of facing Noah and the empty seat that should have been Morgan's made me want to leave this building and never come back. It took everything in me to slowly stand and make my way to the classroom, where everyone's eyes were on me as they watched me move to my seat and sit down as if I were walking to my doom.
I kept my gaze firmly away from the empty seat to my left, but that meant I was forced to look at Noah instead, who was sitting on my right. He still had a red mark on his cheek that resembled my small palm, but he seemed to have recovered significantly from the other injury I'd given him.
He didn't say a word to me as he pulled out A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and flipped to the newest chapter, and I didn't try and start a conversation. It was taking everything in me to hold myself together right now, and I figured if I tried to speak I'd break down.
The school day passed miserably. It hurt to see everybody going about their business, acting like nothing had changed at all when the school population was missing someone extremely important. In the classes I used to share with Morgan, the teachers went on with their daily routines, and although they looked reserved and sad, they didn't mention my best friend at all. I wanted someone to pay tribute to her: to explain what an amazing person she'd been and how much of a future she'd had ahead of her. But everyone just acted like nothing had ever happened, and that hurt me. Was that what we all were? Would any of us ever truly be missed? I wanted to be missed, and I wanted Morgan to be missed, too. She deserved it.
By the time three o'clock came around, I was shaking from all the stress that had been dumped upon me throughout the day. My history teacher had asked me if I'd needed to step out and see a counselor when I'd turned deathly pale in the middle of class and felt like I was about to throw up, and I'd barely made it through the classes after that. Living inside my body and experiencing the thoughts running through my head was pure torture.
As I went to walk out the front door of the school, lugging my books in both of my arms and staggering under both their weight and the weight in my chest, Noah hurried up to me again.
"I think you remember what happened last time I told you to go away and you didn't," I said angrily, trying to walk away as quickly as I could considering everything I was holding. He hadn't spoken to me at all since our encounter that morning, and I had actually been grateful. I'd started to think maybe he was actually giving me some space--until now.
Almost gently, he took the books from my arms and started walking towards my car, and I let him because I didn't know how many more heavy steps I could walk with all of that weight. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier," he said as I unlocked my car and he set the books in the passenger seat.
I just climbed into the driver's seat, not bothering to look at him. "I don't want to talk about it," I said stonily, and then, before he could even move out of the way, I'd started the engine. He had to jump in order to get out of the way as I backed up way too quickly and made a tight turn to get out of the parking lot, leaving him yelling behind me.
I'd completely forgotten my vows to stay Nicole Thorn forever as I automatically started driving towards Mom's salon. Everything was too much. I needed an escape, and if that was in the form of becoming another girl, then so be it. I couldn't take any of this anymore.
And so I drove, my tears blurring the road and dripping down into my mouth so that I tasted salt, and all I wanted was to just be free, even though I knew how impossible that really was.
There was only one way out, and it was the way I had promised my best friend I would never take, but now I had no choice. So I just kept driving in the direction of Mom's salon, hoping that her angel would forgive me.