Thursday, May 14th, 2020
I didn't think it would possible to survive off three hours of sleep. I was wrong. I'd just survived off none.
The aftermath of the conversation with Harry left me feeling a different type of exhausted. I didn't feel like sleeping so I paced my room all night, suddenly wondering when exactly my life would fall apart.
I didn't want to go to school today but I didn't have a choice. My parents couldn't find out why I wanted to stay home, so the only way forward was to pretend to act normal.
I glance at myself in the mirror and flinch. Usually, it would be because of the uncanny resemblance to Nix. But today, it was because of how terrible I looked.
I tie my hair up, forgetting the last time I even washed it in the first place. My eyes are so bloodshot that it looks like I'm a crackhead.
But I didn't care anymore. I felt completely passionless. I was going to lose every last good thing in my life.
Why even bother trying.
Self-pity was exhausting. I wish I could get out of my head sometimes.
I was running late for school again which meant that I had to take Nix's car. Otherwise, I was going to get a detention and I did not need to explain that to my parents.
I'd been about to leave this morning when I noticed Harry's car out the front. But I knew he wouldn't wait forever to see if I was coming out. Eventually, five minutes before the warning bell was going to ring, he left.
He'd messaged me several times late last night but I hadn't read any of them. Kennedy had tried to facetime me with Syd. Five times. It hurt me to decline each one.
I slam the car door shut. The car park was nearly empty now, except for the few latecomers who were dwardling inside, ready to start their day.
I lock Nix's car, throwing my backpack over my shoulders and briskly walking inside.
The final bell rings and I curse. Let's just hope that Mrs Coplin was in a good mood today.
I rush towards my locker, pulling out my laptop as I go. The quicker I got everything together the quicker I could get to class.
I'm not looking where I'm going which is why I crash right into Kennedy. She grasps onto my arm to steady us both.
"Hey," she says, concerned laced in her tone. "Are you..."
Her words seem to die off as she takes in my appearance. There was no doubt about it. I looked like shit.
"I need to talk to you," she says, sternly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Not right now," I mumble, hiking my bag back on my shoulder. "I'm late for class."
I go to walk off but she grabs my arm, spinning me back around. Despite her strong grip, she's still holding me delicately.
"You're not doing this again," she implores. "I won't allow it."
"I don't know what you mean," I speak, monotone.
"You know exactly what I mean," she jabs. "I won't let you keep hurting Harry."
"I—"
"I consider you to be one of my best friends now, Lonnie. Don't make me regret that," she interjects.
I'd never seen her like this. She was mad, almost livid.
"I'm sorry you made that mistake. But I guess that's on you," I speak.
She shakes her head. "I don't know why you keep doing this, but it's getting old. I've fought for you before but I won't keep doing that, Lonnie."
"Then don't," I say, wretched. I pull my arm out of her grasp harshly.
I hated seeing her like this. She was disappointed in me. It was so evident in her expression that it hurt.
"Why do you keep doing this?" she says, stridently.
"Not sure what you're referring to here," I say, cocking my head.
This wasn't the way I thought my conversation with Kennedy would go. But I knew now it was the only way. She was persistent and the only way to keep her away was to pretend that I didn't care at all.
I begin to walk away, towards my locker. I can hear her walking behind me, her strides growing faster.
"What has happened to you? You were fine at your party. Harry told me you were fine when you went to get your tattoo. What happened between then and now, huh?"
Reality. Realisation. My selfishness. That's what happened.
I get to my locker, turning the combination harshly and quickly.
"Maybe I've just always been like this, did you ever think of that?"
"That isn't true," she says, solemnly. "When we first met, you were this shy, kind, secretive girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders."
"I've never been kind," I laugh angrily. "And you're wrong. I've always been like this. I just used to be better at hiding it."
"I don't believe that. You wouldn't intentionally hurt Harry. Something happened to you."
"You're right," I say, turning to her. "Something did happen to me. I realised that I can't be around any of you anymore."
She steps back like I've physically hurt her.
"I don't know why you've suddenly decided to be a bitch, but you should know that bottling up your shit doesn't help," she says, surly.
Aubrey suddenly walks into my line of vision and I tense. Kennedy's scornful eyes travel over her shoulder, towards Aubrey.
She smirks at me, opening her locker down the hall. She gives Kennedy a little wave, which Ken returns half-heartedly.
"Keep away from her," I warn. "She's— she's not all that she seems."
I was doing it for my benefit, really. If Kennedy stayed away from Aubrey, there was less likely a chance of anyone finding out.
Kennedy frowns, leaning against a locker. "Oh, so now you're acting like you care about my safety?"
I sigh, picking up the books that I need for next period. "It isn't like that, Ken. Of course, I care."
"Then explain it to me, Lonnie. Explain to me why you upset Harry last night. Explain to me what is going on."
"Did he tell you everything?"
She shrugs. "He told most of it. He told me you were going to push us away. He didn't know why."
I lean against my locker door, suddenly feeling light-headed.
This was all too much too handle. I didn't know how to keep doing this on my own.
"I wish I could tell you but— I can't."
"That's bullshit!"
I shake my head, closing my eyes. "Trust me, I wish I could tell you. But I can't."
"And what's wrong with Aubrey, huh?" she asks.
"She's— she's..."
I didn't have a good explanation for that either. I couldn't say she was bad, because really, she wasn't. She was just sad. She lost her brother and she has every right to hate me.
"Don't worry," I mumble. "It doesn't matter."
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand you."
"Neither do I," I shrug.
"I don't know what else to say," she says, monotone. "I'm not going to beg you to be my friend. That would be pathetic."
"Trust me, you're all better off without me."
"Why do you get to decide that, huh? Why do—you know what? I'm not going to keep standing here and having an argument that I will never win. Whatever, Lon. See you around, I guess."
"Ken, I'm—"
"Save it."
She walks off done the hallway, her pace brisk.
I shake out my hands, telling myself that it was better this way.
Somehow, though, it didn't feel any better.