Toxic (Better Than You) (4 page)

             
“That’s fine, Mrs. Linda. I’m gunna have tons of homework to do anyways.”

             
Melissa huffs and folds her arms across her chest and again I roll my eyes. She really can act like a spoiled brat sometimes.

             
By the time we make it to our lockers, the warning bell has already rung and we’re hurrying to get to class on time. Being late means a detention and neither one of us wants to spend any more time here than necessary. We step foot in the classroom as soon as the late bell rings. Smiling at each other with our small victory, we take our seats only to notice that the teacher isn’t even in the room yet. It’s like everyone notices at once, because the noise level goes from non-existent to ear piercing in a matter of seconds.

             
“Alright, alright, quiet down,” Mr. Mahoney says while patting the air. Slowly, the voices die down, and then they really quiet when we all see a girl standing at the front of the room next to Mr. Mahoney.

             
“Everyone, this is Samantha. She’s new here and I want you all to make her feel comfortable, alright?”

             
There’s a murmur of “okay” and “yes” while I meet Melissa’s eyes next to me. We exchange a silent agreement to take her under our wing, because she looks a lot like I did just two years ago, before Melissa came into my life.

             
Samantha’s clothes are ragged, her shoes dirty and worn. Her dirty blonde hair is down and stringy and her backpack is practically falling apart. When she walks back to the desk Mr. Mahoney assigns to her, she keeps her eyes on the floor and her hands in front of her. Instead of taking her backpack off, she keeps it on throughout the whole class, almost like she’s afraid to take it off. Most of us don’t even use backpacks anymore since we have lockers now, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s got in hers.

             
When the bell rings and dismisses us to our next class, Melissa jumps out of her seat and meets the new girl just as she’s standing.

             
“Hi,” she says brightly, “I’m Melissa, and this,” then she grabs my hand and pulls me to her side, somewhat forcefully, actually, “is Lo. Do you want to sit with us at lunch?”

             
And just like that, the girl brightens up and looks us in the eyes. Hers are big and blue and open like a book. You can tell she’s scared just by looking at them.

             
“Sure,” she says, quiet as a mouse.

             
“Great. We can fill you in on everything. There’s a lot to learn but you’ll catch on. And trust me when I tell you, you’ll want to catch on because…”

             
Melissa’s voice trails off as she walks out of the classroom, her arm around Samantha’s shoulders. Laughing to myself, I grab my stuff and follow them out of the room and down the hall to our next class. I make a quick stop by my locker and before I can even realize what’s happening, I’m shoved up against the cold metal and hot breath fans my ear.

             
“Where’s your friend?” he says with a laugh.

             
“Fuck off, Danny.”

             
Apparently he doesn’t like my response because he shoves his knee between my legs, making me squeeze my eyes closed. “I’d rather fuck you,” he whispers into my ear.

             
To anybody watching, we probably look like a couple of horny teenagers, which is exactly his intention. But the truth is that I’m about to throw up, that if I had a knife I would use it on him without any hesitation. That thought scares me.

             
Before I can even beg him to stop touching me, he lets go and I practically fall backwards with the freedom. I stay facing the locker, breathing hard, my heart beating so fast it hurts.

             
“One day, Lo,” he says finally. “Just you wait and see.”

             
I’m quiet the rest of the day, but nobody notices, not even Melissa. She’s busy filling in the new girl and I’m glad for it. All I can think about is Danny and his promise, and I wonder why he’s so sure. I’m not like Mom and I never will be. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that.

March 19, 2002

             
“Wait, so you’re
moving
? Why are you just now telling me?” I ask angrily.

             
“I just found out last night, Lo. We’ve been in class all morning and we haven’t had a chance to talk. And anyways, you didn’t tell me about what happened with Danny yesterday! I had to find out from frikkin Daisy! How does
Daisy
know before I do?” Melissa throws back at me.

             
“It wasn’t a big deal! She probably just saw it happen. God, you fucking tell me you’re moving and you expect me to remember something stupid like what happened with Danny? Seriously, Melis?”

             
We stare each other down for what feels like a full five minutes before Melissa backs down with a sigh. “It’s not for a couple of weeks,” she says sadly.

             
I can feel the burn of tears in my eyes but I blink them back. I don’t cry in front of people. “What am I supposed to do?”

             
Melissa shrugs her shoulders and then smiles at me. “You’ll figure it out. Plus, you’ve got Sam now.”

             
We both look over at Sam, who’s watching us with wide eyes. “Right,” I say, completely sure that Sam could never replace Melissa.

             
“Everything will be fine.”

             
But I know it won’t be, because Melissa is the only person who knows everything about me, the only person I trust. With her gone, I’ll have no one to talk to. No safe place to go. It’ll be back to spending nights at home and scrounging for food that doesn’t exist. Just when I think my life might turn out okay, it turns around and takes a huge shit on me. And then it laughs.

             
Melissa invites me over after school but I tell her I have to go home and clean my room. Really, I just want to start getting used to being without her now rather than having her ripped away the next day. At least this way it’ll be slow and gradual. Maybe I won’t even notice she’s gone. I doubt it, though.

             
The minute I walk into my house, I regret my decision. I’m about to turn around and tell life to rip the band aid, but then Mom calls my name and I know I’m stuck.

             
“Coming!” I reply sullenly.

             
I walk out onto the patio only to find it empty. Then I’m confused because I don’t know why she would be calling me from her room. Carefully, I knock on her slightly open door and wait for her to respond.

             
“Is that you, Sugar Plum?” she asks sweetly.

             
I tense, because she’s only sweet when she wants something and I’m afraid to find out what it is this time.

             
“It’s me, Mom.”

             
“Come help me.”

             
With a sigh, I push open the door, not surprised to find a man passed out on her bed. I keep my eyes off of him and walk into Mom’s bathroom to find her leaning against the bathtub, mascara under her eyes and lipstick smeared across her cheek.

             
“Bring me some water, Sugar Plum? And stay with me awhile, would you?” she asks as she holds her hand out for me.

             
Part of me wants to reach out and grab onto her, feel her hold me and hug me for just a little. But I tell that part to fuck off because this is Mom we’re talking about and she’s either high or drunk or both and doesn’t give a shit about me. Just to remind myself of that, I look into the mirror and at my black eye that she gave me less than forty eight hours ago. With a bottle of cheap vodka, no less. The desire to have her hold me is now completely gone.

             
I stomp into the kitchen and fill our only glass with tap water, feel as it sloshes out of the cup and onto my hand before slamming it down in front of Mom. She’s passed out again, not even aware of the kindness I’m showing her.

             
“I am nothing like you,” I tell her. “I hate you.”

             
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and it feels good, but it doesn’t sound too convincing. Almost instantly I start to cry because all I want is a real mom and for it to be true. But I don’t hate her. I never could. I leave her there, her head looking like it’s about to fall off, and go into my room. Instead of doing my homework or drawing or doing anything productive, I lay down on my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, telling myself over and over again that this is the life I have been given and it is the life I deserve. It is the life I will live for the rest of my life.

             
No more sugar coating. No more hoping. No more wondering what could happen when I get out of here. Because as much as I say that I’m nothing like Mom, I know I’m exactly like her, that she’s all I have, and that it’s just me and her against the world. I know that I’m stuck here, in this house with no air conditioning and sometimes no electricity at all, where there’s no food and our only pets are the family of cockroaches that have taken up the pantry. That while people like Melissa break free of places like this, it is where I will grow up and it is where I will stay. I’m not meant for much more and it’s time to accept that truth.

August 13, 2005

             
“Just one more, Sam, then I swear I’m done.”

             
“You better be because I am not spending this whole party in the kitchen like last time. I saw some cute boys on the way in and I swear I am making out with at least one of them.”

             
“Or all of them!”

             
“Hey! Drink your damn shot before I drink it for you!

             
I shoot it down. It burns all the way. Someone offers me a chaser but I refuse. I don’t chase my drinks, just like I don’t chase my truths. Somehow that makes sense to me, but maybe it’s because that was my fourth shot in six minutes.

             
“Finally! Let’s go!”

             
Sam grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. We’re too young to be here, too young to be drinking and too young to be dressed the way we are, but we don’t care and neither do the guys staring at our asses. We reach the middle of the room, surrounded by grinding, sweaty bodies, and join the flow. The floor tilts this way and then that way but I stay upright in my four inch heels. I feel like I should be given an award for that. The thought makes me laugh.

             
“What’s so funny?” Sam shouts into my ear.

             
We’re still dancing, never stopping, not even to talk. Even though we’re in the middle of the crowd, it’s like we’re in our own little world. No one bothers us even though I can feel them watching.

             
“I need an award,” I tell her.

             
Sam throws her head back and laughs, her dirty blonde curls bouncing against her back. I’ve always been jealous of her hair and her golden skin, but mostly of her big blue eyes. The guys go crazy over her eyes.

             
I grab her face and hold her still. “I want your eyeballs, Sam.”

             
She smiles at me, big and beautiful like always. “I want your hair, Lo.”

             
“No you don’t, you big fat liar.”

             
She lifts her eyebrows and nods her head. “It’s true! I want your hair and your eyes and your lips and your skin-”

             
“Let’s switch! We can totally switch!”

             
And then we’re both laughing, mostly because we’re drunk. But it’s not enough.

             
“More!” I yell.

             
“Agreed!”

             
We hold hands and work our way back through the crowd, back to the kitchen, back to the alcohol. Sam’s poison is tequila but mine is vodka. I can see the irony there but I decided a long time ago to stop trying to change my hand. Life’s gotten so much easier since then.

             
Sam lines up two shots for each of us. I grab the glass and clink it with hers before tapping it to the counter, and then throw it back.
Another one bites the dust.
Before the first one has even settled, the second one is down and we’re both leaning over the counter, breathing through the burn.

             
”Man, that shit’s toxic,” Sam mutters to herself.

             
We’re toxic, but only the best things are.

             
I need more. I like the way it burns, I like the way it’s toxic just like me.
Fuck the glass
.