CHAPTER FOUR
WILL EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE
XENA
It wasn't easy to tell which of us would be the first to snap.
I stayed quiet, my eyes darting between all the people surrounding me, and waited. They all reacted differently to the news regarding June; after all, I doubted any of us expected her to have texted all of us hours before she died. Well . . . almost all of us, which made things even weirder, but I didn't dare to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
Out of everyone in this group of friends, one would assume June would try to contact Sofia if she needed help before reaching out to anyone else. The fact that she didn't, the fact that she tried all of us instead, was more than enough to raise several red flags; that, along with June's well-known dislike for phone calls and its contrast with her actions, strengthened my feelings of unease.
Still, it wouldn't help to voice said feelings. I was certain those were shared by the rest of them, and I'd only be making things worse.
Felix was the first to speak up.
"What does this mean?" he questioned, and the ice surrounding us seemed to crack a little bit. Sofia's eyes remained glued to the iridescent screen of her phone, while the rest of us looked up at him when he spoke. Felix seemed to have that effect on the general population, even if there were certain people who were immune to his charm and charisma—Leon, for example. Leon simply pressed his lips together in a thin line. "All of us get cryptic texts, Meridian gets called in the middle of the night—"
"Most of us," Courtney corrected, and Grace huffed, almost imperceptibly.
Grace had the exact opposite effect when compared to Felix; while he helped people feel more at ease whenever he was around, she took great pride in driving everyone away, which, in my opinion, wasn't the correct approach. Courtney had done nothing wrong; if anything, she had only voiced what some of us were thinking, and I didn't think she should be given hell over it.
Maybe that was just me and my peacemaker tendencies to blame. Even so, one would have to be incredibly naïve to ignore the relationship dynamics that had always existed in our group. For example, Grace always sided with Christina in public and vice versa, even if they were in the wrong, and no amount of concrete, factual evidence would ever be able to change that. She also tended to stand up for Sofia, as though she needed it, whereas Leon occupied the opposite stance.
It got sort of unnerving at times, how Sofia and Leon never seemed to agree on anything. Even now, after June had just died and we needed to be on the same side and provide support to our friends, they refused to look at each other, and stood as far away from one another as the circle we had formed allowed them to.
Part of me wanted to call them out on what they were doing, as it certainly wasn't the time to be petty. The other half insisted it was none of my business and my words would have little to no effect.
"Moving on," Felix piped in, before things could escalate any further. "What do we do now? Where do we go from here?"
"Maybe we should compare the texts we got and see whether there's any common ground," I suggested, then turned to Sofia, trying my hardest to keep my voice as steady as possible. "Did Meridian ever tell you what June told him on the phone?"
"No," she quietly replied.
Other people would have dropped the subject. By the way she was acting—the defensive posture, arms firmly crossed in front of her chest, hunched forward to make herself look as small as her height allowed—it was pretty darn clear she didn't want to keep talking about it, but Felix was different and tenacious, which was what made him as good of a reporter as he was.
"You know you don't have to lie to us," he insisted. "We know you're the one out of all of us who's closest to June, but this is important, Sofia. Whatever June told him could be the key to—"
"Felix, back off," Grace demanded, cutting him off, and I shuddered. If we kept snapping at each other like this, this group's days would be counted. I wanted to believe our friendship bonds were stronger than that, but everyone was hypersensitive thanks to June's death, and someone could say something they'd end up regretting later—something that would be enough to send someone else over the edge and cut us off completely. "Leave her alone."
"Because hurting Sofia's feelings really is the last thing any of us wants to do right now," Leon muttered, loud enough to be hearable by everyone in the circle. Grace threw him a truly murderous look and I opened my mouth, ready to intervene in case things got even uglier, but the strident sound of the bell ringing stole my thunder.
Fortunately. I liked to keep things peaceful, but there was something about getting involved in other people's conflicts that rubbed me off the wrong way.
So, as we went our separate ways—I followed Sofia and Felix towards our AP Physics classroom, while Courtney and Grace entered the Biology lab to our right and Chris and Leon walked the opposite way towards English Literature—I could only pray that conversation had been the worst we'd face.
The words hung on the tip of my tongue as we occupied our seats. I wanted to say something comforting to Sofia, who had to deal with her own grief as well as Meridian's, but she didn't even look my way, not once. Her dark hair formed a curtain between us, and she remained silent as we pulled our textbooks and graphing calculators out of our backpacks.
It felt so weird to me, how people expected our lives to go back to normal. I knew it was the natural, healthy way of coping, and we shouldn't spend the rest of our lives drowning in grief, but it felt nasty that we got to keep living and June didn't.
Around us, people whispered. We'd have to get used to it throughout the following days, accepting it as the 'new normal', regardless of the bitter taste it left in our mouths (God knows how badly I wanted to turn around and tell those girls to shut the hell up). They discussed ways of honoring June, with rivers of tears streaming down their cheeks, and I couldn't remember ever having her seen them talk to her.
They suggested a candlelight vigil, flowers, memorials. We all knew June would have hated the attention, as she'd always preferred to stand on the sidelines and let the action unfold without getting involved. I knew Sofia could hear them, since she was sitting right next to me; Felix, on the other side of the aisle, shook his head almost imperceptibly, bringing my thoughts to the real, palpable world.
"Sofia?" I called, softly. She turned to me just enough to not give me a sideways glance, but we weren't fully facing each other. "Are you coming to volleyball practice this afternoon? I understand if you feel the need to be excused."
Her facial expression hardened. "You don't think I can take it."
"That's not what I said." I tried to reach out for her hand, in what I assumed would be an attempt at a comforting gesture, but she pulled away, straightening her shoulders. "As the team captain, it's my duty to check on the team. As your friend, it's my duty to check on you. I can't force you to take some time off, but, if you decide you could use some time away from the court, I'll understand and give you some space."
I quickly realized it had been a mistake to say what I said—and it had been quite the big one, for that matter. For a split second, I had forgotten who Sofia Wineheart was and who her mother was: they had never been known for giving up, for letting external occurrences damage their performances, and they didn't time off from anything.
They were unstoppable.
I knew the only reason I had been named captain of the volleyball team was because Sofia was too busy with the newspaper. Our coach wanted her to be captain, but she had stepped away and suggested I should take the responsibilities, which I gladly accepted. Volleyball kept me busy, along with my volunteering at the animal shelter, but I was spending my time doing what I loved.
It still didn't make me feel better about having been second best. I couldn't blame Sofia for it, as she had spent more time playing than I had; on the other hand, she hadn't spent nearly as much time living in the shadow of her peers and her family as much as I had. My mothers couldn't hide their disappointment when they found out I hadn't been the first choice for team captain; for them, coming in second place was as worthy of celebration as coming in last.
"I'm fine, Xena," Sofia eventually said, and her tone softened considerably, "really. I appreciate the concern, but I feel like some bounces will be good for me." She stretched her arms over her head. I still wasn't entirely convinced I was doing the right thing. "I wonder what a girl has to do to get some proper competition around here."
MERIDIAN
Running the risk of sounding like a major douche, Vienna St. James was beginning to get on my nerves.
The rational part of me knew she was trying to look out for me, like a friend would do, but it felt like I couldn't take a step away from her without her completely flipping out and trying to analyze everything I did. The worst part about it was how she insisted on dragging her new friend—a girl who had transferred here all the way from Harvard—everywhere she went, which made things a lot more awkward than they should be.
I had a feeling she didn't like me that much. Vienna argued it was nothing personal, since she didn't really like anyone, but I hated that, all of a sudden, I had to spend every moment of my time worrying about what I could be doing wrong.
Perhaps I was being overly dramatic over it, but I already had to deal with judgmental glances and disappointed head shakes at home, which meant I definitely didn't need that to follow me all the way to college. I was already counting down the days until I was allowed to return to my dorm room, to be free of my parents' melancholy and anger (regardless of how justified it was), but that also meant being around these people a lot more often.
It felt like a lose-lose situation—probably because it was—but I wanted to be able to deal with things my own way. That included not being forced to spill out some melodramatic crap about my thoughts and feelings, as if people didn't already know what I was supposed to be thinking and feeling following my sister's death.
What good would it do for me to take control of the situation, when everyone else insisted on doing it for me? How in the world was I supposed to defy so many people's expectations when no one believed I could think and feel for myself?
"Here's your mocha," Vienna said, carefully setting a steaming cup in front of me before occupying the empty chair on the other side of the table. Next to her, Natasha Reinhart stirred her cappuccino with a small spoon before licking the foam and shooting me a quick glare Vienna didn't catch. "Sorry it took so long. The line—"
"You didn't have to," I retorted, finally looking away from Natasha. Her dark curls sprung in different directions thanks to the humidity, whereas Vienna's ginger hair fell down her back without a single wave. "I could have gotten it myself."
"I know. I just wanted to do something nice."
The thing about Vienna was that she would do something like that even if nothing bad had happened. This could almost be like any other day, just another one in the middle of so many others, except there were several people glancing at our table in the campus café. I supposed it was mostly out of curiosity, but there had to be some of them who were just waiting for me to snap.
As if my way of grieving wasn't appropriate, as if I had to follow the textbook definition of mourning, as if they had the right to dictate what I could and couldn't do. My parents did it, my friends did it, and now strangers wanted a piece of the let's-be-a-pain-in-Meridian's-ass cake.
(Trust me, I was well aware of how inappropriate that sounded.)
"You could show some gratitude, you know," Natasha suggested, bringing her cup to her lips, and looked up at me through her long eyelashes. She was really pretty—I thought she was beautiful—with her dark hair, golden skin, and brown eyes, but what she had in beauty was what she lacked in approachableness. "Not everyone is out to get you."
I huffed. "Will everyone just leave me alone? Please?"
Vienna frowned. "Is it really that bad for people to be worried about you? Your sister—"
"I'm aware my sister has just died, thank you."
Vienna sank into her seat, and I immediately regretted having said the things I said, especially the way I said them. Two days later, it was still an incredibly fresh wound, one people kept rubbing salt all over, and I knew it wouldn't be going away anytime soon.
It was a horrible, confusing, strange feeling. I hated that June's death consumed my every thought, my every dream as much as I hated that she was no longer around and alive, but, at the same time, I didn't know what to do as soon as that feeling vanished. Would that mean it no longer affected me because I had stopped caring about my sister? Would that mean I really was a terrible brother who hadn't picked up the phone and didn't give a damn about her death anymore?
"I know you're in pain, but it would be quite nice if you stopped being rude to people who are actively trying to make sure you're okay," she insisted, in a low voice. When I looked at her, her blue eyes—so light it almost looked like she was seeing right through me—shone like stars and the pit in my stomach grew even larger. "I have no idea what you're going through right now and I'm not going to pretend that I do, but I want you to know that I'm here for you."
She leaned forward across the table and took one of my hands in both of hers. I worried it meant I'd only be leading her on, and the disapproving look that flashed across Natasha's eyes did nothing to ease my concerns.
"I'm okay," I said, for what felt like the millionth time. It was almost as if I'd be able to fully convince myself and everyone else of it if I kept repeating it like a mantra. My hand twitched between hers, but she didn't drop it. Natasha's nostrils flared. "It's fine. I should be heading home, anyway."
"I mean it," she insisted, and her lips curved into a gentle smile. I should know better than to argue with a Psychology major. "If you need anything . . ."
"Sure," I muttered, and grabbed my cup with my free hand, downing the drink on one go. It burned my throat and esophagus as it went down, with flames licking the inside of my body and scorching everything in its way, but I couldn't bear to be here any minute longer. "I should go. Thanks for the coffee"—I pulled my hand back and grabbed my jacket—"and for the company. Rain check on studying?"
She nodded and, less than fifteen seconds later, I was out of the door. My throat ached and burned, and scalding tears prickled the corners of my eyes, but there were too many people around for me to let them out. Huffing, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, like this was a simple cold, and pulled my phone out of my pocket after it buzzed.
SOF, 04:11 PM: Some girls are holding a candlelight vigil for June tomorrow. Will you be there?
I didn't want to. I really, really didn't want to be there, but I knew she did—and I knew she'd need someone. In any other situation, June would be that person, but June would never be able to do that anymore.
ME, 04:12 PM: Yeah. No worries.
SOF, 04:12 PM: Thank you.
SOF, 04:12 PM: I mean it.
YES NATASHA IS BACK I DON'T CARE I MISS HER A LOT
so. let me tell you something: writing a book about grief when you're going through a mourning process of your own is HORRIBLE.
my favorite professor passed away this monday. he'd been sick for a while and i'd known this since september, but i really, really thought we'd have more time or that he'd pull through. i was taking my internship with him this september (2019) and he was also going to be my thesis mentor—besides having been my mentor for a while now—which means everything is very confusing, very messy for me. i'm taking some time to process everything, even though it's been insanely hard, so please bear with me.
dedicated to anthems because of reasons, one of them being that i love her