Like Lana

by Danielle Leonard

  She’s still in her housecoat, nursing a cup of coffee, as she walks across the hallway to greet me with a scowl. I don’t have to wonder too hard to figure out where I’ve picked up my habit of lying.

  “Suspended, Lana?” her voice is raised. “You got suspended for giving your friend a concussion? I hope you have a good explanation for this. Well, any explanation.”

  I drop my bag to the left of the entranceway and kick off my shoes. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going back to bed.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s tail if you don’t feel up to talking about it. We need to discuss this right now.” I’m already halfway up the stairs by the end of her sentence.

  “Come down here right now young lady. You are not walking away from this conversation!” I stop, resting my fingers on the handrail.

  “Okay,” I relent, backtracking my steps until I’m facing her. She motions me to the kitchen where she sits at the table and points to the chair opposite her.

  “What’s going on?” she asks after taking a sip of her coffee.

  “It’s not what you think,” I’m quickly developing a story in my mind, kicking myself for not working on it during the walk home. “I literally fell into her and she smashed into the lockers.”

  “What does that mean, you fell into her.”

  “It means she wasn’t paying attention as I was walking backwards. Stu was tossing me his bag, and I kinda’ was running backwards to catch it. Then suddenly Sarah is right behind me and, I guess the way she was standing, lost her balance when I smashed into her. And she fell.”

  Mom stares at me, unflinching. I can’t tell if she knows I’m full of shit, or not. More than likely she’s trying to determine if she’s going to pretend to believe me, or not.

  “That sounds ridiculous,” she finally responds. “Why didn’t you explain this to the vice-principal then?”

  “What would be the point? She’s going to believe what she wants to believe. Other kids say they saw me push her. They’re all lying and she just needs to find someone to punish. So, I’m not going to fight it.”

  “Well, you should fight it. Now you have a suspension on your record.” I roll my eyes.

  “So what? I’m done after this year anyways. And it’s just one day. There’s nothing we can do to fight it. Just leave it and everything will be back to normal soon enough. I need a break from that fucking school anyways.”

  “Watch the language, Lana.” Mom folds her arms across her chest and breathes in deeply as her eyes wander to the window at her left. “Your father is not going to be happy about this.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Can I go to my room now?” I ask, pushing the chair from the table. She nods before dropping her forehead into her hands.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding a lot from me these days?” She asks. I stop briefly at the kitchen doorway. She’s more perceptive than I would have expected.

  “I don’t know why you feel that way these days, Mom. I’ve always hidden a lot from you.” I leave the kitchen, hearing my mom exhale loudly. I know that line will make her cry. I don’t even care. When I land on my bed, sleep comes almost immediately.

  October 25

  Karma Made Me Do It

  I got a wild theory, so hear me out. What if I was the channel for karma? You know how sometimes you hear about a person who everyone knows is not a good person gets hurt, or something? And you say, well, maybe it’s karma. He had it coming. Now imagine if the bad thing that happened was because another person did it to them. Like the person got robbed. We still say it’s karma, even if it was delivered by a person and not just some random act of nature, like being struck by a major illness.

  Here’s where my theory gets a bit whack. So, let’s say a certain BFH is being super nasty to me (like, what else is new). If, in the process of her being nasty, a random act happened that caused her harm (like she tripped and broke her nose), then we can all agree that it was karma and she deserved it.

  Now let me put all this into context. Today, BFH was being her super witch self to me for no reason at all. I snapped and pushed her into a locker. I am not a violent person, but it was liked I blacked out and next thing I know she’s collapsed on the floor and has a concussion. In a way, she deserved it. And, in a way, I delivered the karma that was coming to her. I was the CHANNEL for karma to do its job.

  I told you my theory was whack. My school doesn’t agree with it though… I’ve been suspended for a day. But here’s the truth. I don’t feel bad. She has had it coming for a long time. I’m not willing to put up with the abuse anymore.

  I have the power to stand up for myself. I’m going to use it.

  ***

  I’m starting to watch my third movie of the day when I hear Mom open the front door. The sky is dark now. The school day finished a few minutes ago. This whole suspension thing isn’t so bad, if you ask me. Although eating a full bag of potato chips probably isn’t a good habit to get into. I make a quick promise to myself to stay away from carbs tomorrow.

  Between movies, I consider the possibility that Demit is seeing a psychiatrist. More specifically Alysa’s mom. I haven’t brought myself to ask him yet. Afraid to hear the answer, I guess. He’s been gone all day, anyways. Some kind of smarty pants field trip for the school geniuses. They were advised to leave their phones at home to avoid distractions. The last text I sent was just after my suspension was announced. He has yet to respond so I assume he heeded the school’s advice.

  “Lana!” Mom calls out from the hallway. “It’s Alysa!” I almost spew chips from my mouth. What the hell is she doing here? I’m trying to figure out a way to not have to get up and say hello when Alysa walks right into the den where I’m still sprawled across the sofa.

  Mom trails her. “Isn’t this such a nice surprise? Alysa, you haven’t been here in ages! I was beginning to think you and Lana were no longer best friends.” I clear my throat, still not moving from the sofa.

  “I’ve just been busy,” Alysa answers. “Lana and I will always be best friends, right Lana?” I finally pause the movie and look up.

  “Yep, till hell freezes over. How cold is it out there today?” I ask as Alysa glares at me.

  “Can I get you something to drink? I’m cutting some fruit, would you like some strawberries and cantaloupe?”

  “Mom, we’re fine,” I skooch my butt up a little so I’m almost sitting upright.

  “I’ll bring some in,” Mom says, ignoring me completely.

  Alysa crosses the room and sits at the edge of a chair, drops her elbows to her knees and leans forward. “How was your day off?”

  “Fine,” I reply coolly. “Why are you here?”

  Alysa closes her eyes and draws the palms of her hands together. Takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. That’s what friends do, you know?”

  “Oh, I get it.” I laugh. “So, now we’re friends, are we? Hmmm, I guess I missed that memo.”

  “Don’t be such a bitch.” Alysa’s tone drops. Her eyes widen as she suddenly leaps from the chair and drops to her knees beside me on the sofa. Her hands in a pleading position. “You don’t understand.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I can’t go on like this. I need more meds.”

  I sit up, lowering my feet to the carpet. “What are you talking about? The ADD pills?”

  “Yes!” Alysa grabs my knees. “My mom found out I’ve been taking my brother’s pills and she’s hidden them all, or thrown them out, what fucking ever. She’s cut me off!” Her eyes are wild with desperation. I notice the circles below her eyes are darker than ever. Her hair looks unwashed and her usually flawless skin is reddish around her nose and on her chin.

  I rip her hands off of me. “You’re a mess, Alysa. Get a frigging grip!” I’m whispering now, too. Not wanting my mom to hear any of this. “What am I supposed to do? Suddenly get diagnosed with some hyperactive disorder?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, stupid. Your boyfriend. Demitri or whatever his n
ame is. He can get me more meds. You need to get his meds for me.”

  “No way,” I stand up and take a few steps away from her. “You need to leave.”

  “Lana, you don’t understand.” Her hands grip together at her chest. “I can’t sleep. I can’t think straight. If I don’t get more, I’m going to screw up all my grades and never get into any university, and become a massive failure in life. Drive a shit car, live in my parent’s basement, and work as a waitress at some hotel buffet to make ends meet. Is that what you want for me? Your best friend?”

  I start laughing. I can’t help it. The absurdity of this moment is too much. Besides the fact that this scenario she’s painted is just another self-absorbed attempt at getting her way through whatever means possible, I love that she wants me to believe that I play any part in facilitating this fantasy pity fest.

  “I actually don’t care what happens to you,” I admit. “But even if I did, there’s no way I can help you get your stupid drugs. And anyways, Demit doesn’t take them anymore.”

  Alysa rises to her feet. “Yeah he does. I see my mom’s notes. She wrote him a prescription just last month.”

  A knot forms in my chest. The thought that Alysa knows any part of Demit’s personal life is hard to take. “You’re a liar.”

  “I’m the liar?” She half laughs, half coughs. “Demit’s the liar. How much do you really know about him? Hmmm?”

  “Get the hell out of my house.”

  “Mrs. Tiller?” Alysa walks past me and toward the kitchen. “Did you say you had some fruit? I’m actually kinda hungry.” My fingers are practically trembling from the urge to strangle her.

  “Of course! Come on in,” my mom responds. “Right on the counter. Help yourself.”

  I follow Alysa into the kitchen. “Alysa was just saying she has an appointment to get to, so unfortunately, she’s got to get going.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, shrugging.

  “No, really,” I stand at the doorway. “We shouldn’t keep you. Let me walk you out.” I move toward the doorway and wait for Alysa to finally follow me. Surprisingly, she leaves the kitchen.

  “I’ve made your life a living hell before,” Alysa seethes. “I can do it again.”

  “Is that right? Now you’re threatening me?” I shake my head. “Get your fat sorry ass out of here and don’t ever talk to me again.”

  “My ass is not fat,” she looks at me through slit eyes. “And you ain’t seen nothing yet, Girl Unformulated.” My entire body freezes at her words.

  “You know?”

  “Hell ya,” she smiles, opening the door. “See you tomorrow. Make sure you got what I need.”

  I follow her out. “So what if you know? I’m not doing anything wrong with my blog.”

  “I’m not sure the cops know yet, do they?” Alysa asks. “I told you they were stupid. Be thankful that they’re so useless. And that nobody knows about your secret little blog where you write about all the students you hate at Sacred Heart.” She walks to her car and opens the door. “Ain’t karma a fucking bitch?”

  My mind is racing as I step back into my house. I hear my mom talking to me, but nothing is registering. Grabbing my phone from the sofa, I head upstairs and shut myself in my bedroom. I feel drained of energy except for the deafening throb between my ears. A gazillion questions are jumping in and out of my mind. What does she know? What would happen if the cops found my blog? Did she write the comment about Fitz? Would she actually tell the police? Would I be considered a suspect again in Fitz’s death? I’m going to puke. But first, I need to text Demit. As if he hears my thoughts, I get a text from him that second.

  DEMIT: You’re suspended? Damn. That sucks. You feeling ok?

  LANA: Hell. No. Alysa knows I’m girl unformulated. She is out of control and I am so so so so so screwed. I need to see you asap

  DEMIT: It’s ok if she knows. It was bound to happen. You’ve done nothing wrong. I can meet you in two hours at the park down street from your house. K?

  LANA: Two hours??? And what do you mean it was bound to happen? You never told me people from school would find my blog. Why didn’t you warn me?

  DEMIT: Take a deep breath. I know this sucks. But you must have known people would find your site. It’s the internet! That’s how it works. You’ve done nothing wrong. Why do you keep acting like you’re guilty? Stop. Please.

  I shove the phone in my pocket. I can’t deal with this. Of course, I knew it was possible that the fabbies might eventually find my site. I just never really considered how or when it would happen. And, how I would feel about it. I feel exposed. The blog was helping to liberate me, and now that familiar feeling of imprisonment is coming back. Like Alysa has cornered me. Again.

  I text Demit, begging him to meet me sooner. He relents. We are meeting in an hour. It’s still too long a wait, but I guess I have no choice. I respond okay, then sit on my bed and wait, wondering how I’m going to get his meds.

  Chapter 15

  A Late Night Visit

  It’s late. When I announced I’d be stepping out around ten to meet friends, Dad said, in no uncertain terms, would I be allowed out given my suspension. His words, not mine. Ironically, after begging Demit to meet me in an hour, I found myself unable to leave the house. Dad had come home early, mad as hell at me. And, I’d been instructed to stay on the main floor all night. Forced family time as punishment, I guess.

  Thirty minutes ago, they finally went to bed. Well, Dad is passed out on the couch with the TV on and Mom is in bed. I haven’t snuck out my window in a while. So, it actually feels kinda fun to be doing it again. A bit of the old Lana back. Rebellious-gotta-see-my-guy Lana. Turns out there are some good parts of the old me that might be worth keeping.

  Carefully, I close the window behind me and crawl to the corner of the roof just above the living room window, being careful not to drop the bag I’m holding. It’s a second-storey jump, so the only way to land safely is to lower myself over the ledge until I’m hanging by my fingers. I let go, and land in the juniper bush, falling over as I usually do.

  “Nice work!”

  I almost leap out of my own skin. “Shit!” Stepping out of the bush, I wipe myself off. “Demit, you scared me!”

  He laughs. “I should have filmed that. Obviously, it wasn’t your first time.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, not my first.” As we start walking, I open the bag and pull out of bottle of gin.

  “Whoa, what’s that for?” Demit asks.

  “A little Friday night entertainment, that’s what it’s for. I’ve had a crappy couple of days, and that’s putting it super mildly.” Unscrewing the lid, I take a swig out of the bottle. It burns my throat as it goes down. I hand it to Demit.

  He does the same. After another gulp, I put the bottle back in the bag. We end up turning into the park off my street. I sit on a swing and he takes the one next to me. The air is cool, our breath comes out as wisps of smoke. There are no lights surrounding us, it feels like we’re the only ones awake in this sleepy neighbourhood. If we don’t count the squirrel scrambling across the ground.

  I run through what happened with Alysa, feeling my blood pressure rise with each passing minute, pretty much out of breath by the time I’ve finished telling the story. I’m careful to leave out the part about the medication. Not sure how I will broach that subject yet.

  “So she came to threaten you?” Demit asks, his swing slowing down. “But why? I don’t get it. What is the point?”

  Of course he’s not buying my story. I’m bursting to ask him about his ADD and whether he visits Alysa’s mom for treatment. But dreading it just as much. Dragging my feet against the graveled ground, I slow my swing until it comes to a complete halt. He stops, too. We stare at one another. His face is illuminated by the moon overhead. I notice the contours of his face, the high cheekbones that I’d never paid any attention to before now, and the strong jaw line. He reaches his hand over to touch mine, sending tingles up my arm.

&nb
sp; “Is there something you want to ask me?” His voice has an unusual tenderness to it. I wonder if it’s possible that I’m actually falling for Demit. And whether I want to put that all at risk by asking him what I need to ask him.

  I take a deep breath. “Are you taking ADD meds?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?” Demit asks, his voice dark. “I already told you I don’t take them anymore and if I did, why would you care?”

  “I’m sorry,” I sigh and dip my head back to look at the stars. “It’s Alysa. She says you’ve been seeing her mom for treatments. And that you’re getting ADD prescriptions.”

  “Oh, you’re taking her word before mine. That makes a lot of sense.”

  “No,” I try to hang on to Demit’s hand but he lets go of mine and rises from the swing. “You don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s complicated. Why is everything so damn complicated?”

  “Enlighten me,” Demit says, “Come on, let’s walk.” He extends his hand to me and I take it.

  “She’s taking these stupid pills for ADD that she gets from her brother.” I explain. “She says she needs them to get good grades and to get into university. Now her mom has found out and she’s taken all the pills away and Alysa is freaking out. Like really freaking out. She actually looks like hell. I don’t know if she sleeps anymore. She’s a complete lunatic. The real reason she came to my house today was to tell me to get more meds from you or she’ll tell the cops about my blog.”

  “Just when I thought she couldn’t be more crazy,” Demit shakes his head.

  “So, have you been seeing her mom?”

  “Yeah, I had to see her. My mother made me go. Trust me, I would never have gone if I’d known that it was Alysa’s mom. But it was too late when I realized that connection. And, yes she gave me a prescription even though I said I don’t need anything,” Demit explained. “I haven’t filled it. I told you, I don’t take the meds anymore. I hate how they make me feel. I’m not myself when I take them, which I guess is the point. People prefer me sedated, apparently.”