I chucked my practically overflowing backpack into the passenger seat, then slammed the door to my truck shut. I slumped behind the wheel, feeling the muscles in my shoulders relax as the physical weight was lifted off it. Metaphorically, however, I could barely stand upright. It was Wednesday, and after only two days this week had managed to become one of the hardest of the entire year. The workload was picking up again after a couple week's grace period following Christmas break. Between my talent for procrastination and bitchy teachers, I had more homework than ever. Plus, I still had open gyms three nights a week, and tryouts were the second week of February, three weeks from now. Which meant that I should be focusing on my game even more than I had been before. Yet it was a little hard for me to focus on anything academic or athletic at the moment.
All I wanted to do was go talk to Ari.
Even after six days she was still giving me the cold shoulder. When I saw her at school, she would ignore me, walk past like I wasn't there. It was even worse during softball; I could feel her anger radiating from across the gym. I just wished I could talk to her, regain her trust, tell her what really happened.
But every time I went up to her and tried she turned away, leaving me alone.
Part of me wanted to blame Alyssa for it, blame her for screwing up everything good I had done in the last four months, but I just couldn't. It wasn't her fault that she fell in love with me. And the last thing I wanted to do was blame somebody because of who they loved. I wasn't going to turn into my dad. And I knew I needed to respect her space, because she was hurting pretty bad right now and that was on me.
I sighed, a feeble attempt to get rid of some of the frustration and stress that I had been holding in. Turning the key in the ignition, I flipped on the radio to hear Take It On The Run by REO Speedwagon. As I backed out of the parking lot, I was sucked into my thoughts again.
Why hadn't I known?
The question had been bouncing around the inside of my head ever since that night. The what-ifs were there too, like, what if I had pushed her away sooner? Or what if I had figured it out and just talked to her?
What if Ari hadn't walked in?
It was a question that I both wanted answered and didn't at the same time. What would've happened? Would we have gone any further? Did I want it to go any further? I shook my head abruptly, clearing the thought. I liked Alyssa as a friend, nothing more. Sure, she was hot, but anything I felt towards her paled in comparison to what I felt about Ari.
Which brought me to another question.
What exactly did I feel for Ari?
I knew that this was nothing like I had felt before. I was pretty sure that these feelings I felt for Ari were exactly that: feelings. While the very notion of that terrified me, it somehow wasn't as scary as the thought of losing her. And because of the other night, I felt like I might have. Which was kind of weird. It's not like I was committed to anyone, but for some reason I felt like I had been caught cheating. Even during the kiss, it just felt wrong. And Ari's reaction only amplified that feeling.
Subconsciously I knew that if I was in this situation with any other girl, my reaction would be nothing like this. Hell, I would probably call it a win to be able to push someone away like that without having to do it with words.
But this felt nothing like a win.
I was so scared to be alone again. Even though we'd only known each other for a couple months at this point, I could barely imagine my life without Ari. I hoped I wouldn't have to live it for much longer.
I pulled into Anna's driveway, seeing her car wasn't in the garage. I grabbed my backpack, groaning as the dull ache in my shoulders returned, and locked up my truck. Trudging up to the door, I pushed it open and walked straight to my room. I tossed my bag into its designated corner and sat down in front of my laptop. Opening it, I went straight for my Spanish homework. It was the easiest thing I had, and right now I really didn't want to work hard. I pulled out the worksheet we were supposed to be doing, started up Google and searched the first question. I could've used a translator, but I knew that there would be a Quizlet that had all the translations if I looked hard enough. Almost none of my teachers made their own material, so there were bound to be answers somewhere. Sure enough, when I scrolled down, the last result was the one I needed. I opened it and saw all the answers. I smiled victoriously.
Too easy.
I quickly filled in the sheet and replaced it in my Spanish folder. I moved on to my Bio. It was a packet my teacher called a "reading guide" and it was based off the chapter in the textbook we were supposed to read independently.
"Supposed to" being the operative words.
I knew for a fact that no one in my entire class had opened the book, much less read it. Why would we? The answers to every single thing our teacher had ever given us were online. I quickly searched again. This time, the first result was a PDF of the answer key. I sighed. Even though I had all the answers, the packet was still seven pages long, and they took forever to fill in. I started to write, completing the multiple choice questions, then moving onto the short responses. These things also had a shit-ton of diagrams, which made it take even longer.
As I continued to copy from my computer, my mind drifted off, thinking back to school today. It had felt like my first day had happened all over again, except this time without Alyssa. I felt friendless and lonely, but luckily I was quick enough to revert back to the old me, at least on the outside. I didn't need friends. I didn't need anyone. I was Soph Miller, junior and badass lesbian who was always on her own. In a way, it was the person I'd always wanted to be. Independent and strong. Letting people in made you weak and vulnerable, and that made it easier for you to get hurt. That was the last thing I wanted now. To get hurt again.
Because internally, I was already hurting bad. I hated how easily Ari had left me this way, frustrated and scared at the mere thought of losing her. Internally I berated myself. This is why you don't make friends.
I dropped my pencil and buried my head in my hands. As I massaged gently around my temples, the ache behind my eyes receded somewhat. I closed my eyes and relaxed in my chair. I began breathing easier. My worries and my stress, though still there, felt a little bit more manageable. I took a final deep breath, steadying my heart rate, then opened my eyes and picked up my pencil. I kept writing, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand. After an impressive twenty minutes of solid focus, I finished the packet. Letting go a small sigh of relief, I put it back in my Bio binder.
Instead of picking up my English homework like I should have, I threw myself onto my bed. Even though I needed to finish it, I really didn't want to. I had absolutely no motivation at this point. After that intense focus session my mind was busy once more; stressing over softball tryouts, worrying about Alyssa, and fearful of what might happen with Ari. My headache had returned quickly after all the thinking I was doing. There was no room in my head for me to focus on Romeo and Juliet. I needed a break.
I rolled over onto my stomach, feeling the pounding in my head lessen a little as I closed my eyes. I pretended I was melting into my soft mattress. It was one of the few comforts I had left for right now. God, I could just take a little nap, and then I would finish the rest of my homework--
Someone was screaming.
I opened my eyes, startled, and rolled off my bed. Fully awake now, I strode over to my door and quickly threw it open. As it slammed against the wall, I walked out into what I recognized as Alyssa's living room. But there was no one there, and all of the furniture was missing. I looked around, confused, when another muffled scream brought me out of my stupor.
"Help me!" someone cried.
Wait a minute.
I recognized that voice.
"Ari?" I called out tentatively.
I got no reply. All of the sudden I caught a whiff of something. I knew that smell. It was--
"Smoke," I said aloud.
I barged through the kitchen door. There was no one there either.
"Hello!" I shouted, panicked now. "Ari, where are you?"
I heard another scream, more audible this time. I followed the sound to the other door, which led to the room with the couch. There was smoke leaking from underneath it. I placed my hand on the doorknob, then jumped back.
"Shit," I exclaimed. The metal was incredibly hot, searing the palm of my hand, and I winced as pain radiated from the burn. I inhaled sharply, but instantly regretted it as smoke poured into my lungs. I coughed aggressively, practically choking.
I need to get out of here, I told myself. But I couldn't move from the door. Ari was still in the other room. I couldn't leave her.
Resignedly, I grabbed the doorknob fast and turned sharply, ignoring the agony in my hand. The door swung open abruptly. I closed my eyes instinctively, and suddenly I was surrounded by a scorching heat. But something was different. I didn't smell smoke anymore, yet the heat was practically unbearable. My forehead was covered in sweat, and I moved my hand to wipe it away, but there was something in the way. Something-- metal?
Realization dawned on me and I opened my eyes slowly, afraid of what I'd see. As soon as I did, I started to panic.
I was back on the field, in full catcher's gear. There was an opposing hitter walking to batter's box. Jess was on the mound, looking impatiently between me and my dad, who was sitting on a bucket in the dugout doorway. I shook my head, preparing to call the pitch. The heat was weighing down on me intensely. This was our second game of the day, and Jess was relieving Mia, who had started. I had barely survived the first one, but after a two-hour break and a lot of water, I had cooled back down and was ready for game number two.
Or so I thought.
It was now one in the afternoon, and the sun felt even hotter than this morning. Still, the temperature hadn't gone above ninety degrees, so we had to go through with the game. And my dad was still making me catch.
Get it together, I said to myself. I had to get my head into the game. I cleared my throat, feeling the dryness there. This inning had stretched on for what felt like hours. Mia had started strong, getting the first two batters out in quick succession. When the heat got to her, though, she gave up a couple runs, and my dad pulled her in favor of Jess. But, still tired from her first game, she had also given up a couple base hits and now the other team had runners on first and third. There were two outs, so if we could just get this batter we could go in relatively unscathed. The score was 4-3, with my team on top. So this out was crucial.
But in my hot, dazed state, I was a subpar catcher at best. I was letting balls go to the backstop, dropping easy pitches, even getting confused on the pitches I called. I was struggling, and my dad took it upon himself to yell at me after every mistake, blame me for everything that went wrong. It was typical, he did it every time I messed up. Right now, though I couldn't take it like I usually did. I was emotional, frustrated, and extremely overheated. Yet I couldn't even ask for a timeout. After my minimal protest in the dugout, I was once again too scared to look him in the eye. So I pushed through. I knew it wasn't the right choice, but I had no other options.
I called the pitch, feeling woozy as the sun appeared to get brighter out of the corner of my eye. I got ready in my squat, moving to where the pitch was going. But I was clumsy and slow, and when Jess wound up and released I didn't notice the spin was taking the ball upward until it was too late. I raised my glove, but the ball hit me dead center in my face mask.
The corners of my vision went black at the sudden trauma, and I felt the heat wash over me. I collapsed in what felt like slow motion, falling to my right side. My eyes closed and I heard the umpire say something, but I couldn't open my mouth to reply. I just let myself fall asleep, deep asleep. I smiled slightly, relieved.
For the first time all day, I felt cool.
I started awake, picking up my phone. It was eight o'clock at night.
"Damn," I said, rolling back over. I didn't know if Anna was home or not, but I wasn't hungry at all. I just wanted to sleep more. That nightmare had left me in a cold sweat, though, and I didn't know if peaceful sleep was possible tonight.
The Jack, a voice in the back of my head suggested. I smiled grimly. I knew that I would probably finish it tonight, but I couldn't think of a worthier cause to drink it. I climbed out of my bed and walked to the bathroom, opening the cabinet underneath the sink. I moved the toilet cleaner, ready to pass out, drunk.
But the bottle wasn't there.
I cursed internally. Did my drunk ass move it from the last time? I could've sworn I put it back there. Maybe I put it in the pantry? It seemed unlikely, but there was no harm in looking. I tread quietly out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. I headed straight for the cabinet, pulling it open and standing on my toes to get a better look.
It wasn't there either.
"Looking for this?"
I started, looking guiltily behind me to see Anna standing in the door to her bedroom, the quarter-full bottle of Jack in her hand.
"Um, no?" I responded tentatively, but I instantly regretted it as she arched her eyebrow in disbelief.
"No?" she asked sarcastically, striding towards me angrily. "Well then, why, I wonder, did I find this almost empty bottle under your bathroom sink?"
A question popped into my head, and before I could stop it my mouth opened. "Why were you under my bathroom sink?"
She slammed the bottle on the counter, making me jump again. "Even though I don't see how that's very relevant to this situation, but I ran out of toilet bowl cleaner and I went to get some from your bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I found that," she spat.
"Anna, look, I-I couldn't sleep--" I stuttered.
"So you thought getting drunk would be the solution? There is a quarter of this bottle left Soph! What the hell were you thinking?"
I paused. Do I tell her about my nightmares? I didn't know if she even knew about them already or not. But I shook myself. I didn't need to open up, right? They weren't her problem, and I didn't want her sympathy anyways. No matter how much trouble I got in.
"I wanted to get drunk," I said, smirking somewhat through the lie.
She was a little taken aback at my bluntness, but her demeanor soon hardened again, and she pointed at me accusingly, her finger shaking because of her anger.
"You're grounded. Until further notice."
"Fine," I snarled, storming off to my room and locking the door.
I laid back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Anna grounding me didn't make me angry at all, which somewhat surprised me. But then I remembered I didn't have anywhere to go anyways.
I was friendless and alone.
Exactly how I liked it, I thought bitterly.