Blame The Weeds (gxg)

19.5

June '97

Kareena is 14

I gripped my seatbelt as anxious tears pooled in my eyes. But this was the day with nowhere else to go. Strong, I thought. Unforgiving. The blood was cleaned, and my sentence was served. This was the final—and inevitable—step. That didn't mean it was going to be easy.

Dad shook his head for the umpteenth time as he put the car in park outside the front steps. The windshield wipers squeaked every few seconds. At least it was raining. I wanted to beg my father not to make me go, to switch schools or get plastic surgery to change my face. So I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

"I can't help you with this," he said. That meant suck it up and get out. So I did.

The halls were mobbed. I threw my hood on and tried harder than ever to go unnoticed. But it was a losing battle, and the whispers were deafening.

"I thought she was in juvie!"

"Mike told me she's a schizoid. Sarah said she see ghosts and shit."

"I think Sarah is still in the ICU."

"Wouldn't matter. It's not like she's coming back here."

"Kareena's fucking insane, bro! I'm kinda into it. Do you think she'd—"

I covered my ears and sped up to find Luke. I needed to find Luke. And I did, finally, and grabbed his arm at his locker.

"I told your mom to tell you to meet me outside," I said.

Luke pulled me into a bone-crushing hug immediately and I fought the very strong urge to break into a sob.

"I'm fine," I whispered, trying to believe it.

"I know," Luke said, holding me close. "I know. Just don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about."

"Everyone's saying batshit crazy things," I whispered, burying my face into his neck.

"I heard you're an assassin for hire," said Luke, pulling back to grip me by the shoulders. "Can you kill my dad? Just for a few days. He's annoying."

A choked laugh fell from my lips. "Name the time and place and he gets it." I jerked a thumb across my throat with a deadly serious look.

"I'll pay you in pencil crayons," said Luke, shutting his locker.

That's when Dante barreled into Luke, his face paling when he saw me.

"Come on, man," Dante said, ignoring me. Luke shook him off and turned to me.

"Just remember you're not a bad person," he said quietly. My eyes watered, but I nodded, lifting my chin.

Dante dragged him away. I waved at them both, but they were already turning a corner, gone.

Half of me wanted to slam my head against a brick wall, but the other half needed to bawl for hours.

I chose neither, and threw off my hood.

This time when I moved through the halls, they all moved around me. My back straightened more with each step.

Halfway through the day, I'd heard it all—the people I'd murdered to my fascination with arson, from students and teachers alike. By the end of the day, I bathed in it.

Screw them all.

I purposely stepped in the puddles as I walked past the big yellow buses out front, waiting for dad's car to pull up. I knew he'd probably take his sweet time down Blackwater Road.

When I caught Freya's bright green eyes outside one of the buses, I jogged over.

"You'll never guess the day I had," I said. Freya's pale throat bobbed, but she quickly shook it off.

"I heard some of what people were saying, yeah."

"I've heard worse." Lie. "Most of it made me laugh, actually." Lie. "I even thought about throwing in a few rumours about myself to liven the unoriginal conversations." Lie. But Freya bit her cheek.

"Kar, don't. You'll make things worse," she said. I punched her shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever. Wanna come over tonight and play chess? You haven't taught me how to use the unicorn piece."

"It's a knight," Freya said, looking anywhere but at me.

"Yeah, the horse one, whatever. Dad will be here soon. I'm pretty sure he bought you, like, this little Yoda keychain at an outlet mall the other day or something."

"I can't tonight," Freya said. I raised a brow, hiking my bag higher on my shoulder.

"Other plans?" I asked wryly. She nodded, eyes on the ground. "But you don't work on Mondays."

"Lea invited me to her party tonight."

A laugh broke from my chest. "Oh my god! Are you serious?" I asked. Freya's face closed up.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because you're you!" I chuckled. "I mean, don't take it personally. The same goes for me. We're not party people. And honestly, thank god." I blew out a breath. "So you're obviously blowing that off. Let's get ice cream at the pier. I think you owe the old lady five bucks from last time."

Freya sighed for a long, long time. "Kar, I'm going to the party. This is my chance to actually make friends!"

I touched my chest. "I'm your friend—one who doesn't chain-smoke and own a mansion."

"I want to go," she said. I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Fine. What time is it?"

Freya shook her head. "You can't come."

"Says who."

"Lea."

"Okay, and? Since when do you care?"

"She's actually cool, Kar. I can't mess this up."

I took a step back and assessed her. Suddenly, I noticed the changes. Her hair was neater. Clothes, cleaner and fitted. Face, leaner and chin, higher. Two weeks was an infinity.

I told her what I thought about it all. I used the anger, and Freya got harder and colder as I screamed, closing right up. She knew I was right: she was spineless. She'd used me until it was no longer convenient.

I couldn't even blame her for wanting nothing to do with me anymore, and that was the worst part.