The Beginning--Mal
I looked into the book bag underneath the seat in front of me, pretending to look for a pencil out of my own so I wouldn't get caught. I smirked when I saw the pastel purple notebook sitting inside, resting amongst the others that were required for Hell. I mean high school.
I pretended to drop my pencil so I could look into the bag underneath the seat to my left. I saw the pastel green one I'd hid in his locker.
I pretended to start looking for my book a few minutes afterwards, since I'd already finished the maths worksheet for the day. I reached into my book bag to take out a book, taking the chance to sneak a glimpse at the one underneath the seat to my right. Pastel blue.
I dropped my bookmark underneath my desk, and used it as an excuse to turn around and check the book bag behind me. Fuchsia.
I smirked to myself before burying my nose in my book, feeling smug knowing that my plan was going to work out perfectly.
A few months ago, I'd noticed these four boys when my maths teacher decided to sit them in a circle around me.
Brad Simpson. He talked to no one. But no one talked to him, either. No one ever has, and I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't come up with this plan, no one ever would.
Connor Ball. He was pretty popular. Played bass in the school's jazz band. But his brother accidentally outed him as gay to the entire school at the end of last year, so now, no one talks to him, either.
James McVey. Little sweetheart. He was supposed to be my future brother-in-law. But my sister cheated on him. She was always a bitch anyway. He had two siblings and was the sweetest kid in the world. Too bad my sister completely destroyed him. He doesn't talk to any of his friends anymore. None of them. They try but, no one gets through.
Tristan Evans. Mr. Popularity. He's one of the good ones. He's been dating my sister, the one who broke James' heart at the end of last year, for about two months. And his stupid voice is all I hear every damn night. But he makes up for it by making me waffles and leaving them on my desk. He also washes all the dishes, mostly because he knows how I angry I get when people use my kitchen. But it's okay. I'm living with it. Anyway. Everyone loves him. But I don't think he knows why. Well, it's because his stupid daddy's stupid rich. Like Ferris Bueller's girlfriend's daddy rich. But I really don't think he knows it. Which is a shame.
None of these boys are happy. None of them. Brad is abused by his father because he's gay, but no one else knows. Connor is anorexic. No one else knows. James is an amazing artist. No one cares. Tristan just wants to know what it's like to really be loved. No one knows.
How do I know, you ask? Because I'm the narrator and I'm pretty damn omniscient. That's why. But it's also in first person point of view. Oh well. Let's be rebels.
Anyway. My plan was to create a fake club so I could trick these depressed idiots into talking to me about their problems. I understand their problems. I lived all of them. But then I moved here, and I'm happy. So I want them to be happy. Because I like them. I think they'd make great friends.
(^_^)
I sat down at my usual lunch table amongst my siblings. And Tristan, of course, but mostly my siblings. Basically, I was sitting at the jocks table.
My brother, Harry, was the quarterback of the football team. Casey, my twin sister, was the captain of the cheer squad. My brother, Luke, was captain of the soccer team. My "best friend," Vikki, was captain of the swimming team. Tristan was the goal keeper on the soccer team.
And then there was me. The band geek. The video game addict. The former high school basketball star of all of Los Angeles. The girl with blue hair and a nose ring. The only girl in this school with an IQ higher than 95. I checked. I also have 4.0 GPA. And I play bass. Just not for the band. For the band, I'm first chair French Horn.
"So, Mal," Tristan said to get my attention.
"Yes?" I asked with a fake smile. Just do it for your sister. Do it for Casey. Do it for the bitch you pretend to love.
"Tell me about you. I know so much about the rest of your family, yet so little about you." He smiled, probably trying to genuinely get to know me.
"Well, you already know I love waffles. And I hate people in my kitchen. There's not much more to me," I replied with what I thought was complete honesty. According to Casey, not so much.
"Oh, shut up. There's so much more to you," Casey said, starting to get proud. "Like, how you won the California High School State Championships for our old school your freshman year. And how you were nominated captain of the basketball team your freshman year. And in the summers we used to spend in Kansas with our aunt, you would always win the pie baking contest at the state fair." I could feel myself blushing at such high praise from my sister. My worst nightmare. My worst enemy. "And you broke the record for how fast you can play that bee song on your French Horn. And you were drum major of the junior high marching band, and the high school marching band. In your freshman year. And how you have that 4.0 GPA. And those video game contests you used to enter with..." she trailed off, know not to finish, knowing she'd gone too far. I smiled to let her know I was okay.
"Why did you dye your hair blue?" Tristan asked.
Luke shot him a look, but he didn't see it. He was looking at me. Staring. I was the complete centre of attention. Shit.
I bit my lip and rubbed my thumb over Luke's knuckles, letting him know it was fine, I was just going to lie.
"Well, when we moved here, I was kind of iffy on the whole idea. So, I decided I would be a rebel. I cut class and bought some hair dye. Dyed my hair at home in Luke's bathroom. Harry made us trade rooms because his bathroom smelled like some kind of chemical plant or something. You know, from the bleach." Liar liar, mum on fire.
"Well, then what about the nose ring? Don't tell me you stole some sewing needles and jabbed one into your nose?" Tristan asked mockingly. I laughed.
"That was actually a 16th birthday present from Vikki. She took me to the mall and said 'What do you want to do that you know Harry would never let you do if he knew about it?' So I dragged her to Hot Topic because that's the only place I know of that'll pierce your nose. And she bought me like five different rings, but I only really wear the one I have in right now." Tsk, tsk. Lying comes at a price.
"Do you want blueberries on your waffles tomorrow?"
I couldn't believe it. He wanted to go the extra mile and put blueberries on my waffles tomorrow. "Um, duh. But only if you make some for Casey, too. But hers have to have strawberries. She can't have blueberries. She's allergic. And you can't put strawberries on mine. I'm allergic." I smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed at how quickly I rushed that out.
"No problem."
(^_^)
I ran into my room and locked the door the second I got home. I could hear Casey and Luke pounding away at the door, knowing what was wrong. Knowing something bad might happen if I didn't let them in.
I saw something shiny slide under the crack in the doorway. My phone. I left my stuff in the living room.
I snatched it immediately and dialed Erin's number.
Ring.
I could feel my arms itching. I could feel the urges pulsing through my veins, as if they were full. As if they needed me to.
Rin-
"Hello?" I heard from the phone. Thank God. She picked up.
"Erin," I croaked out. She knew.
"Stay calm, okay babe? You need to stay calm." I focused on her voice, knowing it would help.
"Breathe. Quit crying." Crying? I was crying? "Do you know where the key to your bathroom is?" I nodded, then remembered she couldn't hear me.
"Yes," I managed to force out. It didn't sound like my voice. It sounded like someone else was talking to my girlfriend. Not me.
"I need you to get that key. When you get it, lock the bathroom door. Okay?" I nodded, but I knew that she knew I had, so I wouldn't have to talk at a time like this.
I found the safe that I hid the key in, opening my bedroom door so Casey could come in and open it for me. She took the key and locked the door to my bathroom, and then took the key into her room with her.
"Casey just locked it and left with the key and all of my pins and lock picking tools," I told her.
"Good. Can you tell me now if you know why you started having a panic attack?" His name is Tristan and he asked me some questions.
"No." She knew I was lying.
"Babe, please don't lie to me. I know something happened. Your anxiety has gotten so much better. Please don't lie to me. You know I can't handle that." I hated how broken she sounded. I hated even more that I made her feel broken.
"Well, at lunch, Casey's boyfriend Tristan started asking questions. Casey told him a bunch of stuff, then he asked me about my hair and the nose ring. I was fine until art. I kept drawing hands. Wrinkled hands. Then I started drawing cigarettes. And then I started drawing folded belts. And I drew a lot of belts. And I drew a gun. And I drew a crooked nose and a set of dead eyes and a pair of chapped lips and big eyebrows. Scary, mob leader eyebrows. And I noticed that it all looked familiar. I noticed that I recognized it all. It was him Erin. I was drawing him."
"But the gun?" She didn't need answer. "Babe, I'm so sorry. How about I fly out on Saturday, yeah? We've got our three week break starting Monday. I can stay with you."
I smiled, knowing she'd calmed me down. She'd helped me through another one. That's the 49th one of our entire lives that she's helped me through. That's the 49th one of my entire life. I said yes, and quickly hung up, running downstairs to Casey's room to tell her the good news.
"Case!" I screamed loud as I banged on the door. "Case, open up!"
Tristan.
Tristan opened the door. Not my sister.
"Where's Casey?" I asked him.
"She's in the bed, crying, refusing to give me that key she won't let go of. I told her I wouldn't let you get it, that she just needs to rest and try to calm down, but she wouldn't take it. I'm going to go make you guys some food. I can tell you need to talk to her, so I'll get out of your way." He gave me a quick smile and dashed off, running for my kitchen.
I smiled back, though he couldn't see it. Tristan Evans, you really are one of the good ones.
I walked into my sister's room, shutting the door behind me. I climbed into her bed and pulled her into my arms. She sobbed into my neck, soaking my favourite jumper, but I didn't care. She was my sister and I needed to comfort her. I caressed her hair, running my fingers through the smooth red locks of curly tangles. I shooshed her, knowing it was what Mum did when this would happen when we were younger.
"I'm all better. I actually have some great news." She looked up, her usually bright blue eyes dull and grey. She sniffled a little before nodding, letting me know it was okay to go on. "Erin said that the three week break is coming up, so she's going to fly down here for her break and visit us."
We've known Erin since we were little. She lived right next door. Our bedroom windows were right across from each other's, and there was a big tree growing between our houses. Mum didn't know how to handle panic attacks, so when I started getting them when I was seven after I saw my dad hitting Harry, Mum would lock me in my room until it went away. Erin would hear me screaming and crying, pleading for help, wanting it all to go away. So she'd climb across the tree branch between our windows and climb in. She would talk to me, hold me in her arms, press kisses on my face to make me laugh. She would help. She would tell me he's never hurt me. She would tell me Harry would be fine. She would tell me everything I needed to hear to calm me down.
Erin became my best friend. She'd look out for me at school, make sure nothing was hitting home. She looked for my signs. She knew my signs. She spent as much of her time as she possibly could being with me. That also meant she was always with Casey.
We were inseparable. We were the Three Musketeers.
In junior high, I finally became aware of my sexuality when I started seeing Erin differently. I still saw her as my best friend, but I also saw her as more. I also saw other girls at school differently. Instead of wondering why the spent so much time on their hair, I wondered if they'd spend that much time on their hair to impress me on a date. But I never really thought farther ahead of a date with anyone. Except Erin. I once had a dream where I was a baker and owned my own bakery in New York and she was a famous painter with a gallery right next to my bakery. We were married. Neither of us ever said anything about it or made a romantic action towards the other, I just figured because all of the photos in the spacious apartment were of the two of us, sometimes hugging, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just looking into each other's eyes. I'm pretty sure the matching diamond rings on our left ring fingers might have also given it away.
Erin and I started dating freshman year. She asked me out at the Start of Term dance. It was a dance held at our school for freshman only, and it happened on the last day of the first week of school. We were wearing matching outfits, except mine was black and hers was purple. I remember I spent hours picking it out. I looked through dress after dress, until I finally found a black sleeveless dress that went down to my ankles. I found some amazing boots that went up like combat boots, but they weren't combat boots. Kind of. And the had gold studs. And I had my XBox controller necklace that Erin had gotten me. And I had my glasses on because glasses are cool. And I'm also blind without them. And I was wearing a leather jacket, so I basically looked like a giant badass. And so did Erin. She wore the exact same everything. Except she didn't need glasses. And her dress was purple. And her necklace had a PlayStation controller. Not an XBox.
We're still dating, it's just that no one at this school knows. Except my siblings. And they know not to mention it to anyone.
Casey became an excited five-year-old in my arms. I knew it was okay. I knew we were going to be okay.
"We should go downstairs. Your boyfriend's making us dinner."
(^_^)
I grabbed my pale yellow notebook, writing in it a brief description of me. I wanted those boys to feel like they can trust me. So I decided I would just trust them. I would tell them my secrets. But not right away. I knew they wouldn't, so why should I? But in time, I know it will al work out.