On Wednesday, I went to the doctor to get my ribs checked again.
Owen can't be my doctor anymore, due to the fact that he's now my legal guardian and it's illegal for him to treat family members.
The new doctor told me I don't have to keep a bandage on my ribs during the day anymore, which I really appreciate. My ribs still hurt a little bit, however it's not as bad as it was before.
Supposedly, my body should be back to normal in about three weeks. Three weeks until I move foster homes. Again.
"I'll see ya around, Luis."
I roll my eyes at that stupid Keelia girl—the girl that keeps hitting on my best friend even though he's very, very, gay.
"She's annoying," I say in an attempt to start a conversation with Luis.
He just kind of looks at me, giving me the same hurt, puppy dog look he's been giving me since I came back on Monday.
"Okay," I say, putting down my paintbrush. "What the hell is your problem?"
"There is no problem."
I look around the stagecraft lab, trying to think of something smart to say. In the end, my mind draws a blank so I just continue with a serious tone.
"You've been acting pissy and hurt all week. What did I do to you?"
He looks down at his paintbrush, clearly contemplating whether or not he wants to speak up about whatever's on his mind.
Our conversation gets easily lost amidst the bustling stagecraft lab; it's loud and busy, full of students painting, sawing, and nailing pieces of wood for the upcoming theater show.
"You're a liar," he says after a moment of silence. "You're a fucking liar."
I freeze in my seat, my mind surprised that those harsh words actually came out of his sweet mouth.
"What—what did I do?" I ask helplessly.
"I'm not stupid, Ramona. I know you weren't in the hospital for dehydration," he begins, throwing his paintbrush down and leaning in to stare at me with his cold, brown eyes.
"Not only that, but every time I ask you anything about your past you just ignore me and refuse to answer. It's shady as hell and I'm tired of being blown off."
I push away the board that I was painting, leaning across the table to get in his face as his words deliver an angry blow to my heart.
"Well maybe that's because my past is none of your damn business!"
"It is when you're always acting spaced out and depressed! You have plenty of people that want to help you but you keep acting like a bitch and push everyone away."
I back down from the argument and grip the sides of the lab counter, steadying myself as I take deep breaths.
My skin is heating up, my anger simmering just below the surface, waiting eagerly to blow up.
Control it, I think to myself over and over.
I know Luis is a naturally curious person and he always wants to know everything about everyone, but I can't tell him this.
Not a single soul knows about the things that have happened in my foster homes and with my parents.
Jean may know about the drug abuse, but she has no idea about the other kinds of abuse.
About not being able to eat when my parents chose buying drugs over buying dinner. About sleeping in the bathroom because it was the only door in the house with a lock on it. About the names they would call me and how hard they would hit me whenever I made a mistake.
About how much it weighs me down every single day.
"Y'know," I say gently, trying to diffuse our argument with a softer approach. "I don't like lying to you, Luis."
"So don't lie," he replies, returning my gentle tone. "Just tell me what's hurting you so badly. Why are you so sad, lovely?"
My eyes dance from Luis's kind stare to the wall behind him, not knowing how to respond.
"Luis," I begin, my uncertain words getting caught in the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry, but some things are just too painful to say out loud."
He looks down at his board, his hand reaching over and picking up his paintbrush again. The brush lingers over the board, the orange paint dripping onto the already wet canvas.
"Fine. You just let me know when you get the balls to say it."
I shove the lump deep down and fight the tears that want to show, reminding myself to erase the fragile emotions that I'm feeling.
"Yeah. I will."
~
Instead of being an asshole to Owen, I've resorted to simply shutting up and going almost mute when I'm around him.
He's been giving me Melatonin every night, which has helped improve my mood slightly.
I mean, who knew getting an adequate amount of sleep could affect my mood?
Crazy, right?
"So, don't schedule anything for Saturday," Owen says as Mason and I help him clean up dinner on Thursday night.
"My mother wants to meet you, Ramona. And my sisters want to meet you and Mason, too."
Oh, how fun. I just love meeting new people.
"Wait wait wait," Mason says dramatically as he piles our plates on top of each other. "I have to meet new people?"
My reaction exactly, kiddo.
Owen nods, wiping down the tabletop.
"Yeah. My sisters are so excited to meet you."
Mason pauses for a moment to think about it.
"Nah. I don't want to go."
"I'm afraid it's not up for debate, peanut."
"I don't care. I just don't really want to go," he insists casually.
Owen looks at me questioningly, wondering why he's so opposed to this family get-together.
It's not anything new, though. Mason has never liked meeting new people—he gets anxious and scared of new social interactions.
I, on the other hand, just get bored with them.
I'm not really the small-talk type, if it isn't obvious.
"Well, Mason, I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
Owen picks up the last of the dishes and carries them into the kitchen, but Mason and I stay in the dining room, frozen where we are.
"No!" Mason shouts defiantly, breathing heavily.
I don't remind Owen of Mason's anxiety. I just want to see how he handles this. These next few moments could say a lot about what kind of parent Owen is.
Owen places the dishes down on the counter and turns back into the dining room to face Mason.
"There is no need to yell at me, Mason."
"I don't care!" Mason yells, kicking the leg of the dining table out of anger.
Owen's face becomes stern when he sees my brother's anger worsening. He walks back over to Mason and bends down to his height.
"If you're going to kick the furniture, you can go to your room," he states calmly but sternly.
Mason's eyes begin to water and his breathing speeds up as he runs to his room.
"Really, Owen?" I cut in sharply, finally deciding to remind him.
He looks at me confused, unsure of why he's in the wrong.
"He's gonna to have an anxiety attack. And you just made it worse."
His eyes show his understanding as I walk towards Mason's room.
Mason is sitting on his bed with his head in his hands and his knees pulled tightly to his chest when I walk in his room.
I take a seat on his bed right next to him and put my hand on his back, gently rubbing circles to help him get a grip on reality.
Owen appears in the doorway, watching me with a mystified expression on his face.
Mason crawls onto my lap after a few moments, still hyperventilating intensely.
"Mason, breathe. Take slow breaths," I say softly, wrapping my arms around him.
He sobs into my shoulder, unable to speak or communicate with me. All I can do I hold him.
All I can do is hold my baby boy and remind him to breathe.
"I—I don't want to g—go," he whispers in between cries once his breathing has relaxed.
Owen takes a seat on the bed next to me, a heartbroken look in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Mason," he says gently.
"It's okay," Mason replies, his voice shaky from crying. He wipes his tears away with the balls of his palms, his hands trembling. "I'm s—sorry I kicked your table."
Owen smiles. "Don't worry about the table, bud. The table is fine."
I can't help but let out a laugh. Only Mason would worry about the damn table.
"My toe hurts now."
"I'm sure it does," Owen says with a chuckle. "That's what happens when you kick something with your bare feet."
He grabs Mason's foot gently and begins tickling it, making Mason giggle like crazy in my arms.
"Hey! That tickles!" he squeals.
Owen releases Mason's foot from his grip and sighs happily.
"It's going to be okay, Mason. We'll be with you the entire time. You don't need to worry."
Owen's reasurrence is so firm and infallible that it almost calms my worries, even though he's not even talking to me. It's too bad there's one thing he's wrong about.
Nothing is going to be okay. It never is.
"Okay," Mason says quietly. "I'm tired. Can I just go to sleep now?"
Owen raises an eyebrow and looks down at his watch.
"Are you sure? It's only seven o'clock."
"I'm sure," Mason says, climbing off of my lap and onto Owen's. "Will you lay with me, Owen?"
A feeling of intense hurt and betrayal fills my heart, although I know it's not fair to expect Mason to take my feelings into consideration.
But still, he's supposed to be attached to me. He's supposed to depend on me just as much as I depend on him, even though I know how selfish that is.
Owen glances at me, and I know he can sense my hurt.
"You sure you don't want to lay with your sister?"
Mason shakes his head. "I want to lay with you, Owen."
"It's okay. Goodnight, bug."
I stand up from the bed, my ribs throbbing, and I give Mason a smile before walking out of his room.
My wrist is itching for relief, and I can't stay strong any longer.
~
"That's hilarious!" Reece says to Mary for what seems to be the third time.
Jaylene looks uncomfortable sitting next to Reece at our crowded lunch table.
"Okay, we get it!" Jaylene snarls. "You think it's funny! Now shut the fuck up!"
Reece's bubble immediately deflates, the energy at the table completely sucked away.
If Nadia heard Jaylene talking to her little sister like that, she'd be beside herself. I guess it's a good thing she's out sick today.
"If I wanted a bitch I would've bought a dog," Mary claps back, defending her best friend.
I have to admit—for a pregnant bitch, she's got guts.
Jaylene rolls her eyes, completely uninterested.
"Piss off. You are literal proof that evolution can go in reverse."
"Are you trying to fucking fight?!" Mary shouts, leaping up from her seat with her baby bump on full display.
Jaylene stays seated, simply observing her black acrylic nails as if they've suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.
"I'm not fighting a little ass middle schooler like you. Sit the fuck back down you pregnant slut."
All the commotion over at our table gets Michael's attention, and he appears behind Jaylene faster than Owen adopted my brother.
"The fuck did you just say to my sister?!" he growls as he approaches Jaylene with clenched fists.
"Oh boy," Jaylene sighs, looking dead at me.
Please look away. I don't want to be involved in this.
"This the Michael kid you were talkin' about on Monday?" she asks, referring to our little grade-switch.
All eyes at the table fall on me, and all I can do is nod.
Jaylene smirks devilishly, standing to face a fuming Michael.
"Hey, Michael. Have you checked your grade in human anatomy lately?" she asks innocently.
In one swift movement, Michael punches her in the face, knocking her back into the table and splitting her lip open.
Everyone in the lunchroom stands up to observe the fight, including me.
Drama can be pretty interesting sometimes, I'll admit it.
Jaylene says something to him that I can't make out before punching him back, right in the nose.
"Fight, fight, fight!"
The lunchroom aides rush over to break up Jaylene and Michael when I feel someone grab my hand and pull me away from the table.
It takes me a moment to realize who's pulling me out of the crowd of students.
It's Luis.
"Luis—" I try to protest and ask why he's pulling me away, but it's no use. There's too much commotion for him to be able to hear me.
He leads me into the hallway outside the cafeteria, the noise immediately fading away as the door closes behind us.
"What did I do this time?"
"No. It's not you," Luis begins, not giving me an opportunity to respond. "I know I yelled at you a few days ago for being a liar... but I haven't been completely honest myself."
I lean against the lockers and cross my arms.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It—it means I'm not gay."
My eyes look him up and down, my eyebrows raised in a state of confusion and shock.
"What?"
"I mean, I still like guys. But, like, I like a girl too."
I glance back into the lunchroom, watching the lunch aides pulling an angry Jaylene off of Michael.
"You just came out last year and now you're taking it back? This doesn't make any sense."
"I know." He rubs his tired eyes, glancing nervously back in the lunchroom. "I like a girl, so that means I'm not gay, right? But I still like guys. At least I think I do."
"You think?"
He looks up and down the hall nervously, as if trying to make sure no one hears him.
"No. I know I do. Jack's fucking sexy as hell."
I laugh at the bluntness of the statement.
"Well, who's the lucky girl?' I ask impatiently.
I swear to god if he likes that trashy hoe Keelia I will never forgive him. He can do so much better than her.
He glances up at me before his eyes fall down to his shoes nervously.
"I—I umm. I like Mary. Yeah. I like her," he says, almost as if trying to convince himself of the fact. "So I guess that makes me, like, bisexual. Right?"
"Yeah," I say with a nod. "I guess it does."
He looks at me again, his eyes far away and his head nodding in acceptance.
"I'm bisexual. Okay."
~
Mason's been in therapy for a few weeks, so it's been helping tremendously with his anxiety. Especially with him being weaned off of his medication, he needs the extra help.
"Are you nervous?" I ask him on Saturday afternoon as we're driving to Owen's mother's house.
He sighs, tugging at the seatbelt.
"A little. I don't wanna meet new people."
That earns him a sympathetic look from Owen in the rearview, who seems to feel bad about making him go to this family party.
I think it might be good for Mason, though. It's always good to introduce him to new things, so he's not so anxious the next time he has to face a similar situation.
"I promise you everything will be fine," Owen says reassuringly from the front seat.
Mason looks longingly out the window as Owen drives farther into the Highlands neighborhood, the houses getting bigger and the families getting richer.
His car stops in front of a big, stone house that has large windows and a beautiful curb appeal.
Her house is much bigger than Owen's, and I can tell his mom must have a ridiculous amount of money to be living in this particular section of the Highlands.
We climb out of the car, Owen and I walking a few feet behind Mason as we approach the doorstep.
"Ramona," Owen starts softly, leaning over to me so Mason can't hear him. "Let's try not to have an attitude today, okay?"
I manage to give him a half-smile, understanding why I need to be a little nicer today. What grown man wants to be insulted by a sixteen-year-old in front of his entire family?
"Okay," I respond, taking the sass out of my voice for the first time in a while.
Owen opens the door to the large house and I can immediately see that his mother is most definitely having a comfortable retirement.
"Oh, Mason!"
My eyes focus on an older woman, who is walking down the hallway with a smile and arms outstretched.
Mason gives her a hug, seemingly not very nervous around her as I'm pretty sure they've met before.
After shaking my hand and giving me a pleasant greeting, the woman, who seems rather healthy for her older age, leads us father into her big, bright home.
My eyes can't help but look around at the grandness of it all as we enter the kitchen. It's got high ceilings, expensive furniture, yet it still feels like a cozy home. It's a beautiful house, really, and I can see pictures of a young Owen and two other girls hanging on the walls.
There's no one else here except Owen's mother, which strikes me as odd because I thought it was supposed to be a family party.
In the kitchen, Owen's mother returns to what she was cooking, although she doesn't hesitate to start a conversation with me.
"You must be Ramona," she says to me with a warm smile, the same one Owen always gives me.
I smile back at her under Owen's watchful eye, and I can tell he's just waiting for me to show a sign of attitude.
"It's so nice to finally meet you. Mason has told me all about you."
Owen washes hands and turns back around to help his mother with her cooking, and I can't help but notice how much they look alike, despite his mother's old age.
"I'm Carol," she says, gesturing to herself. "And I know you haven't exactly been liking staying with Owen. At least that's what I've heard."
I stiffen up, feeling slightly embarrassed by my past immature actions. Being so mean to Owen was pretty unnecessary, looking back on it.
"I don't blame you," she continues. "Owen's pretty annoying."
I can't help but laugh at Owen's face as he realizes his own mother has just insulted him.
"Thanks, ma," he says, shaking his head.
"Oh, hush. You've been around for forty years. Of course you're going to get on my nerves."
Carol turns around to put something in the fridge, Owen still standing there utterly baffled.
"But, I'm only thirty-seven—" he tries to interject.
"I'm only messing with you," she says with a smile, turning to face Mason and I.
I think I like this lady.
"Why don't you go show your sister the house?" Carol says to Mason.
"Oh! Okay!" Mason grabs my hand and pulls me away from the kitchen, where I can hear Owen and his mother talking.
Now, if I'm totally honest, this isn't as bad as I thought it would be.
~
A/N
Next chapter is a banger, it was one of my favorites to write just because of all the awesome characters you get to meet.
Teaser: Y'all ready to meet Owen's family??
Next Update: February 8th (Friday)
bai bye
-N. M.