WOW, it's been a long wait. but to make it up to you guys, this chapter is INCREDIBLY long. seriously, i worked really hard on it lol. and i filled it with tons of symbolism that i hope you guys catch! happy reading :~)
iwriteabout5sos.tumblr.com
***
Furnald Hall, the hall my dorm is in, has a reputation for being quiet. Even though it means less socializing, I generally don't mind too much. Today, with what feels like a million and one eyes on me, the silence is deafening.
The walk down the hallway from the bathroom to my dorm feels longer than usual. I'm so spaced out (everything said last night swimming through my head) that I barely notice my surroundings or the tube of toothpaste resting precariously on my shower caddy.
Before I can even notice its wobbly state, it falls off. And of course, the sudden motion startles me from my stupor and makes me to accidentally drop everything I'm holding as I clumsily trying to pick it up. Idiot.
Plenty of people are in the hallway but nobody, not one person, helps me. Before there was the occasional sound of footsteps, at least, but now a sudden silence falls upon every single person. Everyone just stands there, watching me as I struggle to grab my things, not saying a word.
As soon as I get up I move more quickly and keep my head down, holding my shower caddy in one hand and covering my wet body with a towel with the other, trying to ignore the soft whispers as I pass by.
"In the bathroom? Her and Luke? Luke Hemmings? The Luke Hemmings?"
"Shhh...Yeah. Him."
"How could she even know him? I've been trying to get into his parties since I got here."
My pulse quickens and I start to feel dizzy. Of course. They're out of earshot and barely intelligible, but I can understand just enough to know they're talking about me. It was only a matter of time.
My mind flashes back to the night Luke came here. The redheaded girl with painted toenails and green flip flops who took a little too long washing her hands before Luke coldly dismissed her. The gossip didn't spread as fast as I thought it might. But then again, with something as unbelievable as me, the lowlife freshman, and "Luke Hemmings: Rich and Famous Badboy" together "in the bathroom at 2AM," I'm not too surprised. Not one person would believe her at first.
Each look I get is pretty much identical – disbelief, jealousy and disgust, all mixed into one.
I can feel my hands start to shake and I feel sick, picking up the pace and trying not to look at anyone. One girl scoffs when my flip flop comes loose and I nearly trip, feeling anxious tears well up as it feels like the walls of the hallway are caving in, pushing against me until I can't breathe.
It doesn't get better once I get to my room. All I'm focusing on is getting inside as quickly as possible, but I can't stop myself from nervously fumbling with the keys and dropping them.
"Awww, poor thing," one girl whispers to her friend, mockingly. I try my best to ignore it and open my door which (thankfully) makes them turn away and go back to their business once the 8 A.M. floor show is over.
When I step into our room, the first thing I see is Emily lying face down in her bed, asleep.
Her long blond hair is slightly matted and from what I can see, she's still wearing what I saw her in last night.
"Emily..." I say, setting down my toiletries and quickly slipping on a bra and thick tights to go on underneath my overalls.
"Mmmf," she groans, not moving a muscle.
"You awake?"
"I am now."
"Don't you have class in....negative 10 minutes?"
Silence.
More silence.
And then all of sudden, the sheets are flying and Emily is kicking her way out of bed, moving towards her phone and trying to simultaneously shimmy out of her shiny, black miniskirt.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuccccckkkkk."
While I'm hurt and confused by how she sold me out last night, I can't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for her. I would bring it up, but it's not the right time. Even if it were the perfect time, I'm nervous to bring it up and hate conflict in general. It can wait.
"Shit. I am so – I needed to be in class today. Shit shit shit this is....Shit."
"I'm sure you can still –"
"Nope." She pauses. "Fuck it. I'm not going. I'm just not going to go."
Emily sets down her phone and goes back to bed. I don't mention how she hasn't gone to class two times in a row now.
"Okay...But don't forget you said you were going to have lunch with your parents at noon, after class." My back is turned but in the mirror I can see her resuming the position she was in when I first came in. Mascara smudged, face down, last night's clothes on.
"Yeah, decided not to go." Her voice is soft, muffled by the pillow.
"Just now?"
"No," she turns to me, her voice clearer now, "last night, actually. Lance wants me to come over and told me to blow it off. Sounded more fun than lunch with my boring parents."
The word 'parents' reminds me of mine, but I play it off and trying not to think of them or what Lance said last night or Luke or the hallway this morning or anything.
"Have fun," I say as she goes back to sleep and I leave, slipping on my jacket numbly - too upset about everything to fake a smile as well as I normally can.
LUKE
The sky is pale and it's getting colder. She's still on my mind but that doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter, I tell myself, checking how many cigarettes I have left.
Two.
Calum, Ashton and I are walking somewhere, Calum knows where, for lunch. Normally we'd take a car but it's close by enough. I don't care where we're going. I don't care about anything lately. But that's not a change from the usual.
We stop in a tiny corner grocery store on 115th because the girl Ashton's with today wants gum, or something dumb like that. She's a talker. A fucking motormouth.
"Which flavor should I get – spearmint or peppermint? What's the difference? I normally like spearmint more. But it's less minty than peppermint and I want something really minty. I don't know."
She's gorgeous, sure. Rich family. Cute face. Blonde hair. Huge títs. But still – a motormouth. And dumb as shit.
"Just get whatever you're in the mood for, baby."
Calum looks at Ashton with a shit eating grin and laughs, looking away. Every guy in here, even the cashier, knows what's up.
They fucked last night. And now he can't get rid of her.
"This is why I never let girls sleep over," I mumble underneath my breath, pretending to look at lottery tickets and cards that say in sparkling letters "Scratch and Play for the Chance to win $2,000!!!" The though of being excited over that amount makes me sad for some reason. To me, that's practically pocket change. I wish I could be excited about it.
"Ash? Oh my god, isn't that so cool. You're in this magazine. Something about your short film. That's so cool. And Luke's on the next page. With some girl. Says her name's Mia? And, oh my god," She laughs. "My friend Jacqueline modeled that same sweater for Target. Yikes. Well, anyway, I can't believe you guys are in magazines. That's so cool."
The sound of Mia's name and "magazine" nearly makes my blood run cold.
"Wait a second, how do you even know that girl?" She asks, chewing her gum. "She doesn't look li –"
I've been silent the whole time she's been around. But suddenly, I snap.
"You know what's cool? Not talking. Just don't say anything. Shut the fuck up."
She turns white as a sheet and goes completely silent.
"Fucking finally." I say, turning around to wait outside and to smoke. Only one left.
I irritatedly blow the grey smoke out of my mouth, enjoying the quiet, until Calum comes outside to join me. Ashton's probably stayed inside to console Miss Motormouth.
"What the fuck was that about?"
"Just tired of hearing her talk."
"Was it about Mia?"
"Why would it be about Mia? I barely know her."
"You kissed her."
"And? I've done more than kiss a lot of girls."
"Yeah but we both know that kiss was more than just a kiss."
I say nothing.
Calum sighs. "Fine. Be a dick about it."
He's right. Calum's a good guy, a nice guy – loads better than I am. And I am being a dick about it. But I don't care.
"I'm going home. I'll see you later. Call me." Ashton's Motormouth says. But I know he won't call her.
He may be a nicer guy than I am - instead of smoking one and then asking them to leave, like I usually do, he'll keep girls around for a little while after they fuck. But never longer than a day or two.
"Well, that's one way to tie her loose. Thanks, mate." He's only being a little sarcastic and I smile wryly with my cigarette still in my mouth.
"No problem." And that's that. It's pretty much out of sight, out of mind.
We walk away from the corner store, towards wherever we're going to lunch, but Ashton's probably still pissed, even just a little.
"Remember what you said back in the store – 'This is why I never let girls sleep over'?"
"Yeah?"
"I can think of one time you did."
And that's how he gets me back.
MIA
Henri smiles at me when I walk through the door. "I've made bail!"
I laugh before take my jacket off and set my backpack down. "Yep, you're free."
He needed someone to cover for him today. I had nothing else to do and he's giving me the money he would have earned for doing this shift. I'm sure he has somewhere to go, something to do, but he still makes small talk.
"Hey, thanks, by the way. How's life treating you, freshman?"
"Not bad." Not true, but for the sake of conversation, I lie.
"I think it's safe to say junior year at Columbia is kicking my ass."
"The weather here is kicking mine."
"Oh it's only November. It gets colder, promise." He laughs. "How's Michael?"
I'm almost taken aback. "Michael? Why ask?"
"He's your boyfriend, right? Rumors fly and the library here is echoey." He smiles.
Normally, I would brush over the word boyfriend and not comment, but something about Henri makes me tell the truth. "Not my boyfriend. But he's good, I could presume."
Henri raises his eyebrows after hearing this bit of news. "Well, either way, I'm glad he's good." We talk about music for a minute or so, but eventually he looks at his clock and quickly gets his things. "I have to go, see you around."
And when he leaves, I'm left in the library. Normally, during my regular shifts late at night, it's silent as a tomb. But on Saturday afternoon it's humming with activity.
I get up and find books for people a few times, passing by staring eyes of students who are sitting at tables and recognize me from the rumors. I ignore most of them, but it's not the eyes that are the problem.
Laying face up on a table in front of someone is a page from a tabloid. And of course, because my day couldn't get any better from this morning, I'm on it. Coming out of Luke's car. I'm in disbelief for a few seconds before the dread falls over me.
It's from a while ago, the first day I met him, but somehow it's there, glaring at me, the shiny magazine pages reflecting the overhead light.
The girl reading the tabloid looks up at me and first, I see shock register on her face, then disgust. She turns to her friend and whispers something, but I don't catch it because I'm already walking away nervously.
At the librarian's desk, my hands are sweating and I'm praying they don't come over here with all my might. It's one thing hearing someone whisper "Cheap" when you pass by, it's another to be directly confronted.
I'm too nervous to focus on the required reading for Literature Humanities that I normally enjoy reading. My hands shake too much to turn the pages of Dante's Inferno.
The scenario of the two girls coming up to the desk scares me out of my wits so I try not to think about it. They'll probably just leave without saying anything, I tell myself.
But just as I'm starting to find a semblance of reassurance, the taller one comes up to my desk. The one who was looking at the tabloid first follows behind.
"Do you have this book?" She slides me a piece of paper with the name and author of a book on Korean literature.
I'm almost too nervous to speak. I silently search up the name in the database but it doesn't pop up. It's not in the card catalogs either.
"I don't think so. I can make a note and ask the head librarian to order it for you. She's out of town this week, but I'll email her."
She doesn't reply, just looks at me coldly.
So I ramble on nervously. "I can put your school email in the message so she'll know to message you when she's ordered it and when it's here."
She still doesn't reply, like she's waiting for something more. I don't know what she waiting for, so I just look at her unsurely until she says something.
"Can you do it now? I need the book soon."
The magazine is in her hand.
"Um...Sure."
They're still waiting while I open up my school email. Slowly, the blonde one opens up the tabloid while they wait.
And of course, she opens it up to the page I'm on. And they start talking about what's on the page, like I'm not even here.
"I'd be so ashamed if I were in here." The taller one says.
"Especially for something like that. Why do you think she was in his car?"
"Why else would a trashy freshman goldigger like that be in Luke Hemmings' car?"
She giggles. "Probably got on her knees for him so he'd pay her airfare back to whatever podunk town she came from."
The girl laughs before sighing. "Aw, it's too bad. If she can't pay for her plane ticket, I can. I'm all for giving to charity." They both laugh like I'm not even here.
By now, hot tears are blurring at the sides of my eyes. They know what they're doing. But I won't let them see me cry.
"I sent the email. Have a nice day." I say, getting up and quickly grabbing my things, knowing that Stacey should be here in a few minutes. I shouldn't be so irresponsible but I can't stay in this library a second more. I brush past them, ignoring their pitying laughs, and walk out the front door quickly, not even taking the time to put on my sweater or my jacket.
The cold bites at my face and I quickly try to walk around to the back of the library, sliding my back down the stone wall of the building and sitting on the wet grass by where the heat generators are. Where the hum of the machinery drowns out desperate, choked-out sobs and everything else.
***
There's a little corner grocery store by the dorms, where Michael and I stopped that one time, where they sell cigarettes and gum and inexpensive pens. They run out of ink pretty fast, but they're affordable.
I place the 10 pack of black pens on the counter and check my phone, thinking of sending a message to Michael. Asking him if he wants to get dinner tonight, something small.
But I think better of it; I have other things I need to do tonight. Like talking to Luke, even if it kills me.
I may hate his guts and hate the stories about us, but I need to get to the bottom of it. I've heard there's almost always parties at his place on Saturday nights, so I know where he'll be.
"$2.99," the cashier says, about to ring me up.
I numbly start to reach for my wallet, trying to push down the fear of going to Luke's, of being surrounded by drugs and people far richer and better dressed than I am, when I see the lottery tickets to my left.
And because I'm feeling hopeless, I grab a scratch card that says in big sparkling letters "Scratch and Play for the Chance to win $2,000!!!"
"How much?"
"$5."
"Sure, why not," I mumble, pulling out another bill and trying not to look at myself in the reflection of the glass door.
I look wet and cold, shivering in an overall dress, a turtleneck, tights and rain boots with dried, salty tears on my cheeks and still-damp eyes.
I hand him the money and put the pack of pens in my bag and keep the scratch-to-win card in my pocket, hoping that just having it will give me a sliver of fortune (in both senses of the word) and help me survive going to Luke's.
"Good luck." The cashier says weakly to the sad girl who just used half of the money she had for the week on cheap pens and a shallow pipe dream.
"Thanks," I say. I'm going to need it.
***
Two trains to get to Luke's penthouse. The building must have high security most of the time but when I walk in, I'm barely even given a second glance.
Must be too much of a hassle keeping track of who comes in and out on nights when there's a party. Anyway, there's always someone waiting by the elevator door when you come up to make sure you belong there.
The first and last time I came here, I got in because of Michael. This time it'll be difficult - I definitely don't look like I belong here.
But I tentatively press the button for the top floor anyway. And luckily, Calum's waiting by the elevator.
"Hey," he says, surprise registering on his face.
"Hi, Calum." I don't know what to say. With what's in the tabloids – who's to say he doesn't hate me?
"What are you doing here?"
"I...um. I'm looking for Luke actually."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"You look like you're marching to your death."
I smile wanly. "That's what it feels like."
"Well, I was going down to get some fresh air, but I can let you in."
With wet hair and old overalls that used to belong to my mother, this is probably my only chance to get inside.
"I have no idea where Luke is, though...Do you want a towel or something? You look like you're soaking."
I am but I politely decline, if I take a towel, I'll inevitably have to put it back, which means going further into Luke's penthouse.
"I'm only staying for a couple of minutes."
"Sure, no problem."
There's an awkward silence and Calum's hand hesitates on the doorknob.
"Mia...I know you're..." He pauses, unsure how to continue. "I just - if you ever need someone to talk to..."
"I'm okay." He's just being nice there's no point in bothering him. Luke and I are from different worlds. And Calum is firmly set in Luke's. He's a great guy but I don't need his pity. I just want to get out of here as soon as I can. "Don't worry, I'm fine."
I fiddle with the scratch card in my pocket and he opens up the door. And then, I step into the lion's den.
Calum and I part ways and although I feel like everyone's eyes are on me, I take a seat on the couch. I didn't think this plan through, but Luke'll have to come out sometime. So I wait.
LUKE
By now, I never even plan the parties. People just show up. I couldn't care less.
Half the time I don't even show.
But tonight, I'm feeling self-destructive. I look at my box of cigarettes.
Last one.
Even if I am feeling self-destructive tonight, I don't want to associate with the people outside in the living room, there's enough booze in the kitchen to keep me interested. I light my last cigarette unceremoniously.
I twirl my phone for a little while then take another shot. It feels impossible to get drunk, and I'm feeling too apathetic to even pick up another glass.
Even though I'm at my own fucking party, I feel more sober than I've felt in a while. I'm almost ready to leave until my phone buzzes. Two messages. Both from people I wouldn't expect.
Mia and Michael.
They both want to talk. Feeling reckless, I delete one and call the other.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah, I'm actually already here."
I raise my eyes in surprise. Someone's brave. "Fine. I'm in the kitchen."
It's only a couple of minutes before they walk through the door.
MIA
I've been waiting for nearly 15 minutes and Luke's nowhere to be found. Admittedly, coming to his party without a plan isn't the best idea I've ever had. But I sent him a message, and hopefully he'll respond.
I'm trying to keep my head down, but it doesn't stop people from noticing me. Of course they'd notice me, I look completely out of place. Not to mention the fact that I'm on every other celebrity tabloid in every other supermarket and corner store.
I try to fade into the background, leaning against the black leather and absorbing the blue haze of light falling over the dark room that makes everyone look like a bluer, cooler shade of themselves.
When the room starts to feel too heady, too heavy with smoke, I pull the scratch-to-win card out of my pocket and fiddle with it, toying an idea of actually winning. The din becomes peaceful in a strange way, and the light sheen of sweat on everyone's body almost glistens in the blue light.
With the hazy smoke and the ebb and flow of the electronic music and the blue light that covers everything, it looks like I'm underwater. Like the people dancing are silver fish, passing pills and kissing with their mouths wide open in corners, diamonds dripping from their hands and fingertips.
It doesn't last long, though, and the beauty fades. Someone opens a door to the balcony and lets in the cold air and it ends. It feels like I'm waking up.
I put my scratch to win card back in my pocket and momentarily think about leaving and 'how much longer should I stay?' until someone approaches me.
"You must be Mia Harris." My heart stops for a second until I look at their face.
I expect the same look I've been getting all day – shock, disgust and irritation – but it's not. I have no idea who this person is, but it's nice to see a smile for once.
"Yeah, I am. Have we met before?"
"I don't think we have, but it's so cool to meet you. This is so crazy! But, I should introduce myself. I'm Bianca. I'm a friend of Ashton Irwin's."
"Oh, I know Ashton."
"Yeah, he's super nice. I actually just saw him today."
I don't know if I'd say nice, I think to myself, but I smile anyway. "Oh, I only really know him in passing. I went to a party he had with, um...my friend Michael."
"Well, you should meet my friends! We grabbed some Schnapps and some Dom and we're all hanging out in one of the rooms."
Her tennis bracelet dangles from her wrist as she grabs my hand and leads me over to the hallway, excitedly dragging me into one of the rooms.
"Look who I found!"
A bunch of equally gorgeous girls, with equally amazing boobs and equally amazing clothes all open their mouths in shock before greeting me with bubbly affection.
"Isn't she cute?" Bianca pulls me to the bed and I sit with my legs crossed on the plush comforter, smiling, albeit a little uncomfortably.
"Do you want some?" A girl with cropped, blonde hair passes me a bottle of champagne that's just been passed to her and I politely decline.
"Don't be shy! It's really good. It's Dom Perignon."
"No, it's just...I don't drink."
"Aw, that's so cute."
To the side, Bianca asks someone if they've seen Ashton here and they tell her no, assuring her that he'll probably come soon enough.
"Ok, Mia, let me introduce you to everyone. Meet," she says, pointing to an incredibly pretty girl with long brown hair, "my sister Maddie. That's Layla." She points to the girl with short blonde hair and designer jeans who offered me champagne. "And this is Jacqueline." Another gorgeous girl, this time with green eyes and freckles.
"Hi, I'm Mia." I say shyly,
"Oh, we know who you are." Madeline smiles and takes sip of champagne.
Before I can ask how, my phone rings and I see that it's Emily. She's texted me four times.
"I'm sorry, I should probably take this." I quietly step outside, passing by the locked door I saw the last time I was here as quickly as I can and leaning against the floor to ceiling window that looks down at the city below.
"Emily?"
"Mia? Thank god, I'm so glad you picked up." Her voice sounds desperate, and suddenly all I hear on the other side of the line is crying.
"Hey, breathe, it's going to be okay. What's wrong?"
"Everything. I'm in Brooklyn and I have no idea where I am. It's raining and I have no fucking idea where the nearest subway is and my wallet's still in Lance's car and my phone is on 2%. I –"
"Em, slow down. Where are you? Do you have an address?"
Her panicky crying and hyperventilating subsides. "I'm – I – I'm on Wilson Avenue and George Street, I think. I think I'm outside of Williamsburg, maybe, I don't know. I'm freaking out." And then she starts crying again.
I quickly try to count the money in my bag. I definitely don't have enough to take a cab. I'll have to navigate the subway and figure it out. She doesn't have any money, so I'll have to pay my fare plus hers. That means I'll have used all of my money for the next two weeks. And even if I'm still hurt by what she said last night, she's stranded and she needs me.
"It's okay, Em. I'll come get you. It's gonna be okay."
The call goes out, probably because her phone died, before she can respond. All I can hope is that she'll say where she is and I can get to her soon enough. I lean my head against the cold window and put my phone back in my purse, walking back. I'm about to open the door to the room and tell them I have to go and apologize before I hear Jacqueline's voice.
"God, she's so stupid. And that whole 'innocent-act' gets on my nerves." I feel my heart literally sink in my chest, leaning against the wall.
Bianca's voice goes higher up, two octaves. " I saw her on a magazine when I was out with Ashton. And you can just tell. She's all like, 'Ooh look at me, I'm on the cover of a magazine so I deserve to show up at parties uninvited.' Did you see what she's wearing?"
"Those overalls make her look 5 years old. It's literally tragic." Madeline sneers and they all laugh.
"Ugh." Bianca sighs. "How does she even know him? Luke was with Ashton and me when I saw the magazine and he got so angry. I mean, not at me, obviously. Probably at her. I'd be so embarassed to be associated with her, especially if I had Luke's social standing."
"Poor thing, though. Luke probably tried to get into her pants and Miss Virgin wouldn't let him so he tossed her out."
"She's so naïve she probably didn't even know what he was doing until he reached up her skirt.
"Well, at least she's good for a laugh."
I bite my lip and step away, trying to take a breath. Of course. I should have seen it coming, but just like they said, I'm probably the most naïve person at this party. My eyes burn with hurt and I turn quickly on my heel, pushing past the crowd and trying to get out as quickly as possible.
It feels like I've been sucker-punched in the stomach, and I try my hardest to swallow down the pain pressing the elevator button over and over again until it opens.
This type of thing has been going on all day and I want to break down, want to tear up every single magazine with my face on it and hide under the covers of my bed and cry. But I can't.
No matter where I go, this is inescapable. So when I step out of the lobby, I steel up my face and try and figure out where the nearest subway station is.
LUKE
"Haven't seen you in a long time."
"For good reason." Michael smiles grimly, his jaw set tight. Michael looks around at the empty kitchen and looks back, at the party behind him.
"You know, I always wonder what happened to you. You're still a terrible person, but something's changed. I'd worry if I actually gave a fuck."
"There's nothing to worry about. Stop spouting shit that's none of your fucking business."
"Don't get so touchy." Michael lifts up his hands. "Fine."
There's a moment of silence and then I get up from my chair, irritated.
"Wait, why are you going?" He asks.
"You said you wanted to talk. Obviously you have nothing to talk about that's worth my time."
"Actually, I do."
"Then spit it out. You wanted to talk."
Michael stands up. "I have two things to talk about. First, I want to know what's going on with you and Mia and second, I want to know why you set Aaron's car on fire."
I roll up my sleeves of my black shirt and laugh. "And why would that be any of your business?"
"Because Aaron's my friend and Mia and I are together."
That makes me laugh even harder. "You sure about that?"
His eyes flick unsurely, briefly.
"That's what I thought," I say, smirking and picking up my glass, about to leave.
"Hey! I'm not done with you."
I smile tightly. "Yes, but I'm done with you."
"Mia's a nice, sweet girl and she's with me. Find some other whore to fuck around with."
"You don't own her," I scoff.
"Look, all I want to know is what happened. She won't tell me shit. Did you fuck her, or what?"
My fists clench at my sides. "Don't talk about her like that."
"You used to talk the same way, asshole." Michael laughs. "Anyway, I mean, I was practically 100% sure she was a virgin, but I don't mind picking up your sloppy seconds. I just want to know if you did and if it's over or not."
"Hey, I said, don't fucking talk about her like that."
Michael smirks. "You didn't, that's what it is! Wow, didn't know I'd hit a nerve."
"Michael, don't start with me."
"Wow, that must feel shitty. Knowing that you couldn't and I will. You blew it, mate, I mean, she's probably so fucking tight."
I'm practically seething with rage and he's cracking up. "And those full lips too, fuck. Don't worry, when she sucks me off for the first time, I'll send you a detailed letter so you'll know what you missed out on."
And then before I know it, my fist connects with his face.
I can see that the inside of his mouth is bleeding but I don't care. I'm about to swing down one my time, ready to rip his goddamn throat out, when I hear the door open quickly and Calum and Ashton rushing in, pulling me off of him as fast as they can.
I shrug them off, cooling down, and brush my sleeves off, staring down at the piece of shit in front of me who's kneeling on the floor, trying to get up.
"Don't ever talk about her like that again."
I feel like pummeling him, but he's not worth it. Michael spits a mouthful of blood on the ground, dusting himself off, not able to even look me in the eye.
Now I'm done with him.
"Get the fuck out." He knows where the door is.
MIA
I sigh and look up at the ads on the walls of the subway that's practically empty at 2 am.
Emily's soaking wet and asleep with her head in my lap, all cried out and exhausted. She fell asleep crying and I don't blame her.
She and Lance got into a fight and on their way back to his place from a party in Williamsburg, he made her get out of his car and drove away.
Her clothes are cold and wet from standing in the rain while I took the train down to Brooklyn and spent nearly 20 minutes in the pouring rain trying to find her.
We're both shivering and soaking wet and have a long stretch of subway to ride until we get back to the dorms.
Safe to say, we've both had a terrible day.
And even though I feel completely hopeless, something makes me reach in my wet pocket and I realize that still there, is the scratch-to-win card. I completely forgot it was there.
I don't know why, but I burst into tears. And for the first time today, they don't all feel like sad tears.
And it's funny, because today has been one of the worst days of my life. I'm all out of money, it feels like everyone is against me for one reason or the other, my life is a mess and I'm soaking wet on a subway in a city that I barely understand.
But this un-scratched, scratch-to-win card feels like the only sliver of luck that I've got. A glimmer of a chance for things to get better.
So I clutch the $5 scratch-to-win card like it's the only thing keeping me alive, ride the subway until it's my stop, and hope.