The day had been going well.
I had only a reasonable amount of makeup work to do, and only two tests to take at school. No one had any parties that I missed over the weekend, and soon, I'd have a huge load taken out of my backpack.
I'd abandoned my hopes of handing Max's camera back to him, and done it easily. How I'd thank him for saving my life, I had no idea, but I'd figure something out in due time. All that mattered now was waiting at my locker for Quinn so that she could take the camera off my hands.
I was happy that things were returning to their previous state more rapidly than I'd expected they would. If things continued at this rate, Austin and I would be married by age twenty-two. Or at least, my giddiness had advanced to a stage that allowed me to believe that.
So I stared into the dispersing crowd until Quinn came into view. Platinum blonde hair pulled out of her heart-shaped face with a jewel-studded pin, she mad her way over to where I stood.
Quinn and Max looked almost nothing alike. Of course, there was the age difference, but besides that and some other things, Quinn's hair was almost white, and Max's hair color was closer to mine. When we were younger and Max was about our age, he used to call me his "real sister" and Quinn would cry until their parents came and Max got in trouble.
Not to mention Quinn's crystal blue eyes that currently sparkled at me through long, curled eyelashes. Max had eyes that seemed to shift between differing shades of green, depending on what mood he was in. But I loved both of them like family.
I reached down into my backpack, and it wasn't a far stretch before my fingers grasped onto the thick strap of Max's camera. Fishing it out, I smiled as I handed it to Quinn. She took it and tucked it into her own floral printed backpack, zipped it up, and gave me a sad smile. Then we just sort of looked at each other because neither of us was saying anything. For the first time today, I was actually hoping to hear the question of "where have you been?", because if there's anyone who I feel comfortable venting to, it's Quinn.
"So why didn't you call me last week?" Quietly, I tried to start conversation.
"Sorry." She replied. "I've been busy. Thanks for Max's camera." Her eyes met mine briefly, then dropped down towards her backpack. Her hand went to push hair back out of her face, but there was no hair to push back because it was all being held by the pin.
"No problem." I replied awkwardly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just kind of tired."
"Oh. Well, that's okay." I ran a hand through my own hair. "I have so much to tell you about last weekend. We still have about fifteen minutes before lunch is over." I beamed at her.
"Not right now." Abruptly, Quinn denied my offer. "I'm kind of hungry today." She lifted her backpack from the floor.
Rejection probably left telltale signs all over my face. The strangest thing wasn't that Quinn refused to listen to my story, but it was that she would've rather gone to eat in the cafeteria, which she hated to do.
"Okay then," I started. "I can call you tonight and tell you--"
"Lily, I'm really not in the mood to talk right now, or later on. I've got things I need to think about, and I want to think about them alone. I need some time to worry about my life without having to worry about yours." She let out a long breath and her face seemed flushed, her porcelain cheeks turned red.
I recoiled as a weight seemed to drop into my clenched stomach. "Okay. Look, I don't know what you're going through, and I'm sorry if you feel that way, but I don't see how this has anything to do with me. Quinn, if you need to talk, I'll listen."
"No, thanks. Like I said, I want to think alone. Is that okay with you?" Each word, laced in bitterness, was like a slap in the face. With each exchange, I could feel my good day slipping further and further away. After a little while, I replied.
"Of course, but we normally talk things out, you know? It helps. I'm your best friend, and you know you can tell me anything." Even though we were alone in the deserted hallway, I lowered my voice. "You're truly the only person I trust with the fact that I like Austin. We tell each other everything, and honestly, you're being a huge jerk right now." I felt my eyes filling, and I hoped she couldn't notice.
"Yeah, well maybe some things should be left as secrets. And I'm being a jerk? Why are you still standing here talking to me? Oh, yeah. Because you're like a puppy, always right at my heels. Always trying to be like me."
I felt my heart rate increasing. My face drained of all color, and it wasn't because what she said held any truth. I wanted to be nothing like her, especially now. I just didn't know how she could come out and say that like the relationship we'd had for all those years hadn't been completely mutual.
"Like you? As if you have life any better than I do. All you ever wanted was someone to worship at your feet, and I guess when I couldn't give that to you, you had to trick yourself into believing that I did. Why would I ever want to be anything close to the bitch that you are?" I mentally grimaced at the rage that had rooted so deeply into my system to the extent of making me curse. It seemed to bring a brief flicker of pain and vulnerability to Quinn's eyes, as well. If I hasn't been looking directly into them, I wouldn't have caught it before it fell back into fury.
"You can forget about me keeping your secrets for you." She said quietly. "You're so nosy, always in my face. That's what's going to get you hurt one day, and I won't be there to dry your little eyes." Her voice had returned to the way it had been as she backed away from me.
I was at a loss of words. At that point, though, I didn't even think I wanted to talk. I didn't know whether to cry, to kick Quinn in the face, or to take back everything I'd said and beg her to come back. I stood there, mouth agape, staring into Quinn's clear blue eyes that had turned into icy daggers. Still looking at me, almost smugly now, she continued to walk backwards.
"Oh, and by the way, Lily," Quinn began, "Since you insist that we tell each other everything, I suppose you should know this." I braced myself, prepared for any insult that she could possibly throw at me, but in reality, nothing could've stopped the pain inflicted by the words that Quinn said next.
"Last weekend, I kissed Austin. And you'd better believe he kissed right back. Wanna be like me now?" For the first time, she smiled a sharp, venomous grin. Then she turned and stalked away. "Oh, and I'm not sorry anymore."
***
Maybe the effects were permanent. The hypersensitivity, the wave of nausea, the easy loss of motivation. Maybe I'd never escape my Sloth City run. Because before that, Quinn's words would have drained me of everything; left me empty and void of emotion. But now, I felt everything, and everything was cold. Emptiness was far preferred to the sea of grief that currently washed through my entire being.
I didn't ask myself why she had done it, or even what I had done to deserve it. I didn't ask because I knew that I couldn't produce any answers. In actuality, I blamed the pain on myself.
It was my stupid heart that longed so desperately for Austin. It was my huge mouth that had told Quinn about it and obligated her to hide the kiss from me. It was my over-analytical mind that had been oblivious enough to keep pushing her until the breaking point. It was my corrupt conscience that wouldn't allow me to be mad at anyone but myself.
Although I knew it wasn't true, every pair of eyes that I passed for the rest of the day seemed to stare me down. I also could've sworn that each of them was blue. By fifth period, I was a bloated shell of my former self, not quite sure why the tears refused to flow.
This was the only class I had with Austin. And I'm sure I would've felt the usual butterflies return to my still clenched stomach if it hadn't been so full of nausea and regret. I thought it would be best to just avoid him, to keep the one-sided awkwardness as it was, only tormenting me.
And so it began. I promised to keep up my self-agreement and to prevent interaction with him, but I knew that he had no reason to take these same precautions with me, and therefore wouldn't. We were friends, after all. And that was all we were. So it hurt when he pulled up his desk next to mine. And it hurt when we silently listened to my iPod together, me opting to play no other song but Split Screen Sadness on loop. He said that he didn't mind because the name reminded him of Call of Duty. Only when the iPod was in his hands did the song ever change.
And it hurt that this is what we did for the rest of class. One earbud in his ear, and one in mine, I stayed hunched over my makeup work so that I wouldn't have to talk to him. If I didn't have to talk to him, I wouldn't have to look into his eyes. He played with my hair half-heartedly, while I built up a wall over my own heart, layering it with the spikes and jagged ice that currently probed at my own emotions. It was one of the few times that I wished we actually did something in health class.
When it was over, we had only exchanged half the words we usually did, and each smile that slithered onto my face was weak and forced. Had Austin smiled? I didn't know because I refused to look at his lips. The lips that had once meshed with those of a best friend that had slipped away ages ago.
At the bell, I was gone. I spoke to no one, looked at no one, and did my best not to hear people call my name in greeting. Most of all, I increased speed until I had passed the spot where Quinn and I usually met at the end of the day, and even afterwards, barely slowed my pace. Once, I was going so fast with my head towards the floor that I stumbled into someone. I met their eyes briefly. Both were filled with smoky concern and just a hint of wonder. Then I went stiff. It was the fiery girl, holding me to stop my fall.
If it had been anyone else, I might've stopped my insane dash to apologize and say thank you, but being so close to this girl made me feel afraid, pushing my legs forward, fleeing the bright luminescence of her flame. And so I continued to the bus, knowing that any chance of redeeming my reputation with the girl had become futile.
I didn't look up to watch Austin step onto the bus, his laugh resonant even in the small space. I didn't do more than pull up the corners of my lips in a small smile when he nudged my shoulder. I was like a stone figure for the entire ride. In fact, I didn't even take out my iPod again before the bus pulled up to my stop, seeming to move slower than usual.
When I reached home, I lowered myself onto my bed. Then, perhaps too rapidly, my whole body began to unclench itself. And like it would do with the toxins of alcohol, my system attempted to flush out all emotion until there was nothing left. Finally, like raging water from a broken dam, the tears came.