I take the empty seat next to him. “Your little guard dog will flip if she found you flirting with another girl.”
He smirks. Then he yawns and stretches his arms over his head. As he does so, his shirt lifts, giving me a sneak peek of his V-cut. I turn around and focus on my essay.
“Don’t worry about her.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. I’ll take her down when the need arises. It’s your friend over there.” I nod at Red’s direction.
Julian raises a brow at me. “You wish to fight my girlfriend?”
“Not saying I want to, but if she comes at me, I ain’t turnin’ the other cheek.”
He laughs.
“What? I can. I’ve changed plenty since we last saw each other.”
“Clearly.” He turns to gaze at my body.
I glare at him. “I don’t recall giving you permission to do that.”
“Didn’t give you permission to touch me, either, but you did. So consider us even.”
My mouth drops. “When did I do that?”
“Yesterday.”
“That was different! I held your wrist coz I wanted you to stay and hash it out with me.”
He crosses his arms and raises a brow. “All you had to say was, ‘stop.’ But I get it.”
I furrow my brows. “Get what?”
He grins and flexes his biceps. “If you want a piece of this.”
I huff. “Puh-lease! You ain’t all that. Whatever, dude.”
He laughs—a genuine one which catches me off-guard. I’ve forgotten how full and youthful it sounds. He sees me staring, and he pauses as if realizing the lightness between us. He scowls, killing the friendly air.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“It’s a free country. So why not?”
“Ok, smartass. Answer the question or would you rather I ask Mommy and Daddy?”
Dammit. My parents will skin me alive if he lands on my doorstep tonight, and he knows it. “Didn’t think you would stoop so low.”
“Oh, I’m shameless when I want something. So let’s try this again, shall we?”
I sigh. “Fine. Dad suffered a heart attack last year, so my mom had to return to work. She can’t homeschool me anymore.”
His gaze softens. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t need your pity.”
“Wasn’t giving it.” The hard lines on his face returns. Then he reaches over, grabs my hand, and looks at my fingers. I gasp in surprise, but he ignores it. “Since when did you like getting manicured?”
He’s referring to my French tips. Perfect fingernails are another one of my mother’s requirements, so she’s been taking me to the nail salon. And the Spawn’s right. I prefer watching reruns of The Bachelorette than get my nails done, and I hate the show. But I can’t refuse my mother.
“Since forever.” I lie and remove my hand from his. “Not a big deal.”
“And the clothes.” He points to my outfit. “Why are you dressed up like your auditioning for a Gap commercial?”
“Why does it matter? I’m no longer the tomboy you used to know.”
“Says the same chick who wants to beat up my girlfriend.”
I avoid his gaze to mask my irritation. It’s not because of the incessant reminders that he is off the market. I chuck my paper at him, and it lands on his desk. “Give me yours. Let’s get started.”
He hands me his, and we fall silent as we read each other’s essays. Our teacher instructed us to highlight stories of personal challenges and how we coped throughout the ordeal. Julian documented his grief after losing his grandfather at ten years old. I remember that dark period in his life, because I was the one holding his hand at the funeral. My irritation dissipates as he recounts his journey towards coming to terms with the loss. As I continue, I sense his vulnerability, his openness and his courage to move forward despite the pain, and for the first time since I returned to school, I see my trusted friend.
My essay describes my institutionalization, which I described as a “prolonged hospitalization.” There’s no way I’m disclosing my stint at the psych ward to my classmates. But Julian understands my reference as he’s the only one besides my family who knows of my two-month stay at Glen Park Residential Treatment Center.
Loneliness and the pain of watching life unfold outside my window were my themes. It’s an honest account of the raw emotions felt while trapped inside an icy, sanitary building as a child who could not take part in the joy of living.
Feeling his eyes on me, I surmise he has finished reading mine. Pride gives me the courage to face him with my head held high, but I’m surprised to find his expression lacking the usual condescension of late. In fact, it resembled respect.
We stare at each other with no animosity, just full understanding of our stories. We’re on a cease-fire as we remember the past and our former roles in each other’s lives.
“Your essay is, uh, pretty good.”
“So is yours,” he said. Then he turns away and writes feedback on the bottom of my writing assignment. I do the same on his. When the bell rings, he chucks my paper on my desk and leaves the class without a word.
Chapter 16
Julian
“No, it’s a front lunge, daggers, left punch up to a right low V. That’s what Lexie taught us before… you know.”
I glance up from my uneaten pizza and focus on the twins, Ashley and Maddie. They were practicing their routine in Bianca’s sprawling backyard while she leaves them unattended to get something inside the house.
The cheer squad and our group of friends are hanging out at my girlfriend’s mansion, as we often do after school. Her parents are on vacation, so the place is ours.
“Well, she’s not here, is she, Ashley?” says Maddie with a huff.
Ashley purses her lips and looks behind her. Brandon is eating his third slice and oblivious to their conversation. She sighs in relief. “Maddie, be careful what you say around,” she pauses and drops her voice. “him.”
Maddie takes her sister’s arm and pulls her to her. By now, they’re farther from Brandon and even closer to me. “I got gossip. Guess what Cynthia told me yesterday?”
Ashley’s face glows with excitement as she waits. “What?”
“You know how Lexie and Brandon were the perfect couple? Turns out there was trouble in paradise. They broke up last year, but they pretended to be together for reputation’s sake.”
Ashley gasps. “Wow, no one would’ve guessed that.”
I drop my food on the plate. “Who told you that?”
At the sound of my voice, the girls spin around to me. They pale as they realize I overheard them.
“Who the fuck told you they broke up?” I ask again.
“Uh… uh… like…-s-somebody,” Maddie stammers.
“Ladies! What is this chatter?” Bianca cuts in with a hand on her hip and eyes narrowed. “I invited you here to practice for the invitationals. Not to yak it up with my boyfriend!”
They scuttle away, brown ponytail bobbing as they run to her. I stare at Bianca, but she has turned her attention to her team. I crane my neck to Brandon, who walked to the side of the house, talking on the phone.
Why am I irritated? He’s my best friend and isn’t there an obligation to share everything between bros? I glance at my girlfriend, then to the rest of our crew. I grit my teeth at my growing annoyance at the sense of being excluded. Aren’t I part of this fucking crew?
An image of Alexa, drenched and huddled underneath the bleachers, flashes. It plays—a movie reel in my head.
“Lex! What the hell are you doing down there? You’re getting soaked.”
Alexa sits in a pool of water with her knees against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She stares into space and doesn’t look up at me.
“Lex, come on. This is fucking weird. It’s raining, and you’re gonna get sick.” I rub my neck. “Jesus Christ, now I sound like a mom.”
She looks up at that. I can’t tell if she’d b
een crying because the rainwater drenched her face, but her eyes are red-rimmed. Then, she asks me a question that surprised me. “Whatever happened to your best friend?”
“Brandon?”
“No, before him. The Filipino girl.”
My jaw clenches. “What about her?”
“Why did you stop hanging out with her?”
“Coz she wasn’t who I thought she was.”
She nods. “Story of my life.”
Then, she looks at me, unblinking—her brown eyes drilling into mine, and I shift from where I stand. “You were better off with her, Ian.”
I blink in surprise. “Why are we talking about this?”
She stands up and sneers. “They don’t give a shit about anybody. Not you. Not me. Go find your old friend. Trust me.”
I remember her running off in the rain without a care that her designer clothes and her shiny black hair were getting pelted by the downpour. That happened last year, and I never understood that interaction. She was laughing and cheerful two hours later, as if she never had a meltdown underneath the bleachers.
“Bro, I’m ready to go,” said Brandon.
I stare at him. As he stands there, I have the urge to pop him in the mouth. “You and Lexie broke up last year, man?”
His demeanor changes, and he shifts eye contact. Then he straightens himself and shrugs. “What I tell you about listening to gossip?” he said. “Rock solid. That’s me and her.”
Then he turns and leaves.
Chapter 17
Josephine
Damp earth reminds me of a favorite pastime when I was a kid. Unearthing earthworms. With a plastic shovel in my hand, I dug until I uncovered a slithery reddish worm. I would let it crawl around my palm until my mother discovered me and gave me a good spanking. It’s my familiarity with these tube-shaped creatures that’s making me certain that a handful are crawling on me right now.
My eyes snap open.
What the hell?
Another moist clump lands on my body, and I shiver when the dampness touches my skin. I wiggle, but I can’t move. I hear breathing and grunting above me, and I see the shadow of a figure working hard under the moonlight. The sound of a shovel hitting clay and rocks is unmistakable. Someone is shoveling sod on me with each batch heavier than the next. The moonbeam makes my heart beat as it confirms my suspicion. I’m being buried alive.
I scream, but it’s muffled by dirt, making me cough as I swallow the bitterness. But the more I open my lips, the more I choke as more earth makes its way to my throat.
Chest tightening, I gasp for air. Then a blurry vision of myself in bed gives me awareness and clarity. I’m dreaming. “Wake your ass up! Wake up!”
Suddenly, I’m free. A strange sensation of falling hits me, and I teeter totter to find my balance. Without warning, I convulse until everything stops, and I awaken.
I blink and try to recall my whereabouts. My cheek rests on a sticky film of paper and I lift my head, feeling my skin peel off the page. I count the beating of my heart until my eyesight adjusts to the bright light beaming at me. The sound of water ripples from the aquarium filter provides reassurance. I’m back in my room, sitting in my chair. Chest heaving, my hand moves to my throat.
Night terrors. Day four. Great. I take a deep breath and bury my nightmare into nonexistence.
I look at where my head had rested when I fell asleep on my desk. Last year’s yearbook lay open before me. Its glossy pages memorialize the junior students, but my eyes feast on one student of interest. Alexa.
After school, I went to the library to borrow this yearbook. Since then, I’ve been pouring myself in every content that highlighted her. Every cheer picture, every award celebration, every moment that captures her popularity. Best Smile. Cutest Couple. Most Likely to Succeed.
I thumbed each image and wondered why I was suddenly interested in her activities. Alexa and her crew never cared to include nerds and loners in their exclusive circle. A social tier I belonged to in elementary school and junior high. She was a snob.
A shuffle behind me makes me pause. Alexa is here and a twinge of embarrassment engulfs me. Dare I say it? There’s a sick part of me that feels pride that she chose me. In death, she picked me as her medium.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and walk over to my closet. As I rummage through my clothes to look for my favorite hoodie, I’m reminded of the good news from tonight’s dinner. My parents are leaving for Florida tomorrow, which means I’m parent-free for a week. The best part? Aunty Helen is coming to stay with me while they’re gone. To say I’m excited is an understatement.
The sudden knock on the door startles me, making me hit my head on the shelf. Shrugging my headache off, I scramble out and jump on my bed.
Mother enters the room in a silk floral robe, cinched at the waist. Black hair in a bun, exposing her long, elegant neck, she’s a vision. If only her beauty mirrors her inner self, but wishes don’t always come true.
She stands a few steps away from me, holding a 31 day pill organizer with my quetiapine pills and Ambien. My chest tightens, fearing she’ll force me to take my doses tonight. But I sit up and move to the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the carpet.
“These are for the entire week. I’ve set up the alarm to remind you. My sister might forget, knowing how scatterbrained she is.”
I frown. I hate it when she criticizes my aunt. A kind-hearted soul with plenty of love to give, she’s unlike my mother. But I didn’t miss an important detail on my mother’s statement. She trusts me to take the medications without supervision—a true testament that my plan is working.
Then she lowers her brows, making me nervous. She stalks her prey as she walks towards me, stopping only when our knees kiss. She cups my chin and lifts it up to her. Her gaze roams my face. My heart beats against my chest. It is never a positive sign when my mother bothers to touch me.
“You haven’t been sleeping.”
I gulp. She noticed the dark circles around my eyes. Abnormal sleep patterns are often the first symptoms of schizophrenia. My tired eyes are triggering her. Not good.
“I have, but my homework has been heavy, and I have a quiz tomorrow in Physics, so I’ve been snoozing late.”
She squints at me, saying nothing.
Please believe me.
“I forgot how intense school was,” I add.
She huffs. “And you pestered me about releasing you from homeschool.”
“Yes,” I said. “I was naïve.”
She takes two steps back and turns for the door. Over her shoulder, she says, “Take your sleeping pills and get some sleep.”
Then she’s gone. I fall to my bed and exhale.
Chapter 18
The Night Orchid Page 10
