Fall Out Girl (5 page)

“Are you for real?” Before he answered, I raised my hand. “No, don’t bother.” I was trying damn hard to be nice. I was. And he had the nerve to flirt with me? My patience was as stretched as the strings on a cello before a concert. Partly because of his tease, but mostly because of how I reacted. It was so out of character for me.

He reached his hand over and softly caressed my cheek. “You look different with this blush covering your face. Prettier.”

“I don’t blush.”

“Yeah, you definitely do.” His tongue skimmed over his lower lip before he sank his teeth into it.

Wow, he probably believed he was the most beautiful thing on two feet. Either that or he was hell bent on irritating me.

“I think you might have a crush on me,” he said playfully in a sexy, husky voice that tugged something in my belly, way down low. I was starting to think that there was something seriously wrong with me.

“From where I’m standing, I’m not the one doing all the stalking,” I said, pressing my lips into a tight line.

He had the decency to remain silent. We stared at each other. I refused to look away. My interactions with him had ended up with enough humiliation as it was.

“Lottie, time to go.” He finally called over to his sister, breaking eye contact.

Turning his face to me, he smiled and said, “See you tomorrow, love.”

They said good-bye, leaving a speechless me behind.

Since I had already cleaned the cages, I turned my attention to my last job for the day, “cuddle with the kittens.” I gathered Teardrop and nested her on my chest. “Hey, sweetie, you look much better today.” She purred and nudged my hand.

My recent interaction with the new student played over and over in my head. I needed to understand my reactions to him. It was the second time I had seen him, yet, it was as if he put me in some kind of a fog and I acted impulsively. Pathetic! On the occasions I had faced him, my rational side took a break, and my brain turned into a mushy piece of chewed gum. Or maybe it was the fact that he had accosted me at a vulnerable moment. If there was one time I let all the barriers down, it was when I was with the animals at the shelter.

I admit, I was a bit of a contradiction. While I was the fierce, bitchy, and cocky hustler elsewhere, at the shelter I allowed a sweeter side to surface, one that had almost disappeared after Dad’s death.

Often I wondered which side of me was the truer one. The bravado was for self-preservation. Inside, I was always terrified of the world, but worse, I was afraid of losing my essence. My mood swings were so often and so violent that I constantly gave myself whiplash.

Perhaps Megan was right, and I did have some sort of psychiatric disorder. Yes, her comment did bother me—a lot. So I looked up the symptoms of bipolar. I even did one of those self-tests over the Internet. Though the results were insufficient for a formal diagnosis, I certainly presented a number of the symptoms (ten out of twelve).

In a span of five minutes, I went from feeling strong, fierce, and brave to feeling defeated, insecure, and afraid. Surely, something had to be wrong with me.

Then again, hormones could turn the most stable of us into volatile beings. Yeah, I’m talking about that curse called menstruation. In my case, three dead giveaways told me it was that time of the month otherwise known as PMS. I craved pickles, had a dire need to commit murder, and cried over re-runs of
The Lion King
. My point being is that once women cross that milestone at puberty, there is no stopping the raging monthly bitch from flaring up. A few of us—I’m certainly not included on the list—try to tame the beast and succeed. Those rare species should be thoroughly analyzed by the scientific community.

I picked up Snowball and placed her next to Teardrop. It was time for them to socialize. “Go on. Welcome your new friend,” I encouraged Snowball, who proceeded to lick her paw. “I know, it’s hard meeting new friends.”

She remained stoic.

“You wanna know something, Snowball? The tricky thing about fear is: It wears a different mask every day.”

I scooped Fern from a cage. She was extroverted and sweet. “Here, you two need a push.” I placed the cat on the floor. Fern stared at the other shy cats and purred. I tossed a few toys on the ground and sat next to them. We could learn a lot from animals, especially the rejects. All species of the animal kingdom are one and the same, and though humans have sophisticated habits, deep inside we are just as primitive.

My foot stomped on the brake. I was too distracted to be sitting behind the wheel.

“Damn, Luna,” Jake said as his hand flew to brace against the dashboard of the car.

“You want to kill us both?” He grunted as I swerved to avoid a collision with a car cutting in front of us. He exhaled a sigh of relief and lit a cigarette.

When we started dealing, we had agreed that we would abstain from using drugs. Not long after, Jake had picked up smoking. He argued that cigarettes and an occasional buzz from liquor were okay. I disagreed, but through osmosis, we were both developing habits we hadn’t wanted to.

“Sorry, buttercup,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“What’s with you?” he asked with smoke billowing from his lips. “You seem on edge. Everything okay?”

“No, I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” Considering the minimal amount of sleep I got the previous night, everything was peachy. That morning I had to double my already heavy makeup. The dark circles under my eyes were advertising to the world that something bothered me.

“Go ahead inside. I have a date with Max,” I said, parking the car.

“See yah,” Jake said, slamming the car’s door shut.

Five minutes later Max slid inside the car and collected his usual coke.

I headed to my first class.

The day rolled on with the same monotony of thousands of high schools across the country. At lunch, I filled my tray with salad, fruit, and a grilled chicken sandwich. One advantage of living in a rich town was that the school cafeteria wasn’t a total disaster. Suburban parents made it their mission to have public schools offering healthy meals. I slid my tray on the corner table where Jake and Pat were already sitting.

“How was your date?” Jake asked.

“Sweet.”

“Cool.” Jake devoured his slice of pizza. He, too, took advantage of our free meals. Though his choices weren’t the healthiest of options offered. Thank God, we both qualified for the free meal program.

“I heard you’re going on a date with the new kid?” Pat asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“He’s a hottie,” she said.

“Sitting right here,” Jake complained with a full mouth.

She turned to him. “Oh, are you jealous, babe?” She kissed him and glanced at me. “Are you interested in him? I heard he was hooking up with Jessica,” she added.

My heart skipped a bit. What the hell was wrong with me? I shrugged and said, “You know me. I’m a sucker for good old American boys.”

“I’ve never seen you dating anyone,” she said with a crease in between her brows.

“I don’t date. I just use them for sexual gratification.” I bit into my apple.

“Can we please not have this conversation?” Jake asked.

“Come on, Jake. It’s no secret I have a weakness for hot boys.”

Jake feigned a gag. “I want to keep my food down, please.” He gulped his juice. “We didn’t do groceries yet. There’s nothing to eat at home.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’ll go shopping tonight.”

“Don’t get that organic crap cereal this time,” he complained.

“Hey, you don’t like what I buy, get your own.”

“I’m a growing boy. I need real food. Calories and shit.”

“You need healthy food to start the day, not cereal that’ll send you into a sugar coma.”

“You sound like my mom,” Pat said.

“Someone has to be a grown-up,” I responded, watching Jake. His eyes seemed resentful.

“You enjoy the role a little too much,” Jake mumbled.

“What you mean by that?” My eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me.” I insisted.

“It’s just that you take everything too seriously. You need to chill.”

“Why is everyone telling me to chill lately?” I put the apple down.

“You’re not eating that?” Jake asked, pointing to my apple and sandwich.

I pushed them to him, even though I was going to save the sandwich for later.

“Speak of the devil, look at the cool kid’s table,” Pat said.

Unable to resist, I glanced at the table at the center of the cafeteria. Caleb was talking to Andrew and looking our way. Forget them, I thought, but before I looked away, Jessica caught my stare and brushed her inflated chest against Caleb’s arm. I tasted vomit in my mouth.

Caleb pulled his arm away, but it only provided Jessica with a better angle to close the space between them and rub against him like a bitch in heat.

I tore my eyes away and focused on my salad as if it was my last meal.

“I heard Jessica has the serious hots for him. Not that I can’t blame her. He’s an Adonis.”

“Still sitting right next to you,” Jake said.

“No worries, you are my very own Narcissus.” For some weird reason, Pat was a Greek mythology buff.

“Should I be proud of that title?”

“As long as you don’t fall in love with your own reflection,” she said, pulling him to a face-sucking kiss. Gross.

“Get a room, you two,” I said. Of course, they ignored me.

I continued to eat my salad and then sensed someone sitting down next to me. I scooched to the side and looked up to see who the insane person was, sitting so close. Can anyone guess? Yep, it was Andrew’s boy, straddling the bench in unnerving proximity to my body.

“Should I consider a restraining order?” I gathered the empty trays and turned my back to Caleb. “See you later,” I said to Jake and Pat. Since they were still in the midst of their face-sucking kiss, they ignored me. I stomped away, willing Andrew’s boy to disappear.

“Wait up, Luna,” Caleb said, following me, and confirming my suspicions that he was inept in the art of reading social cues.

“Get lost. Go away, shoo!” I waved my hand.

“You want to ride together to the animal shelter?” he asked from behind me. “I can pick you up at your house.”

I slammed the trays inside a bin with a bang and glared at him. “Can’t you understand? We’re not friends. We’ll never be friends. Leave. Me. Alone.” My only hope was that he would finally get the hint.

“God, are you always this charming and agreeable, or do I have a special effect on you?” He asked stepping in front of me.

I propped my hands on my hips. I was not giving in to his charm. No. Not even if he flashed that sinfully delicious dimple at me. “There is an entire world out there that doesn’t swoon to hot, egotistical guys.” I raised my brows. “And I’m in it.”

He ran his tongue over his lips and cocked his head. “You think I’m hot?” His lips broadened into a drop-dead-gorgeous smile.

I puffed out and blew a strand of hair that had fallen into my face. Oh, that dimpled boy would be the death of me. “Restraining order it is.”

As I walked away, my lips twitched, almost forming a smile. I rather liked his pathetic attempts to flirt with me. It was endearing. For obvious reasons, most people kept their distance. My interactions with the boys my age were restricted to selling drugs. Since I didn’t believe in fraternization with clients, I rarely hooked up with anyone. Being pursued by a guy was a novelty. And although I wanted to be immune to his charm, I was just another teenager with raging hormones. In other words, I loved it.

After school, I dropped off Jake and Pat at her house, and went to do the most detestable thing in the world—grocery shopping. At the store, I paid the electrical bill and shopped, including grabbing a new organic brand of cereal that Jake might like, even though it wasn’t sugar coated.

Since Aunt Lace always used our food stamp card to purchase her liquor at a convenience store near home—she was friends with the owner, oh hell, she did sexual favors in exchange for the illegal transaction—I usually paid for groceries with my money. Therefore, I had taken an online budgeting class and had mastered the discipline of managing money. I was a frugal shopper, attentive to all the sales, and selective with my purchases. As a homemaker, I clipped coupons, bought store brand, and had a store card.

After parking in front of the house, I carried the groceries to the back entrance. The usual dread crept through my spine in anticipation of what awaited me inside. There was never a dull moment at home. Aunt Lace was either getting high and drunk with her bestie Marjorie or screwing some random guy. One thing was certain: she was always home. Aunt Lace lived a reclusive life, only leaving for occasional visits to welfare or the bank.

Before I reached for the doorknob, the rusty hinge squeaked as Aunt Lace opened the door. With a joint pinched between her fingers, she glanced at my hands and snarled, “Food. About damn time.”

The familiar stench of dried dog shit assaulted my nostrils. I despised the smell of pot.

Marjorie flashed her decaying teeth at me. Her smile, always smeared with her signature red lipstick, had a sad and longing quality. It evoked a sense of smug pity. No, not entirely true, it was sobering. An obvious reminder of what drug use was all about. Meth didn’t only erode teeth; it deteriorated a person from inside out. Watching a crack addict was like observing a building crumbling down during an implosion.