forget me not || m.c

1

Music hummed softly through me from the earphones stuck in my ears. The big, yellow bus jostled its quiet high school passengers as it hit some more potholes that were forming in the middle of the old asphalt road. The fields surrounding us were green with the young summer crops. I picked up my green hand-me-down book bag that sat beside me and stood as the bus rolled to a stop in front of my lane.

"Bye, Cassie," Ryan Adams, who was a year or so younger than me, said.

I raised my hand in a tiny wave at the boy as I stepped down the steps. The strong scent of diesel filled my nostrils as the bus rumbled off further down the road. I walked up the long dusty lane, singing softly along with the melody that was now playing.

"Mom! I'm home," I shouted through the house.

She bustled into the kitchen, an apron knotted around her waist, "Shh. Your brother is sleeping."

"Whoops," I lowered my voice and carefully lay my book bag down my ratty tennis shoes. I had forgotten about Tommy. He had been sick for a while. There weren't many doctors around here, so anything that didn't exceed puking your guts out more than four times a day wasn't worthy enough to drive three hours to see a doctor.

She shot a smile in my direction before tending to the pile of dishes in the sink, "How was school?"

I groaned, slouching down in an old wooden chair, "The usual."

"That doesn't sound promising," She said.

"It's just...Nevermind," I shook my head and turned to the glass of milk that my mom had handed to me.

"Tell me," She encouraged.

"Well it's the end of the year, almost my eighteenth birthday," I started.

"And?"

"Some girls at school are making fun of me because I'm not celebrating it. It's stupid, just forget it," I began to get up.

She sighed and lowered her head, "I'm sorry honey."

"No, it's fine. It's stupid, I understand," We weren't the richest people, nowhere close. Rarely did we go on shopping sprees, get new stuff, or just get to do anything else that we wanted. Ends were barely meeting, so a birthday party was the last thing I was worried about. I saved the money that I got from waitressing the diner in town so that we could give Tommy, my seven year old brother a decent birthday party. Something to remember, something to look back on.

She turned around, startling me from my thoughts, "I'm trying to do what I can. I promise, you will get something."

"It's fine, Mom," I insisted.

"I promise," her stern tone told me that resisting her words would be useless. I picked up my bag and walked down the dark hall to my room. I tossed it onto the bed and stepped across the hall to Tommy's room.

"Hey," I greeted quietly.

His squinted his eyes opened so that he could look at his visitor, "Hey, sis," He croaked.

I stepped closer to him, taking him in. Everyday, his skin seemed to get paler and paler, almost translucent. The darkness that was once only slight circles under his eyes, now looked like harsh bruising. His eyes, which once shone bright green with curiosity and joy, had now dimmed down to a dull grey. My eyes skimmed down to his legs, which once carried him across the wheat fields as I played tag, could hardly hold his weight. Tommy was always a sickly kid. Always bringing home colds or strep throat. But lately, we couldn't pinpoint what was exactly wrong. No matter the medicine we gave him, or the different opinions that we received from the neighbors, he didn't seem to get better. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I just knew. It killed me to think the word, let alone say it. I kept it too myself, not wanting to hurt my mom or dad.

"I brought you something," I pulled the teddy bear out from behind my back that we made in Home Ec class. His eyes lit up, and for half a second, he looked like Tommy again.

A weak smiled grew on his face, "For me?"

"For you," I confirmed.

He weakly squeezed the bear to his chest before tucking it into the crook of his arm, "Thank you," He said.

"No need. I'm glad you like it," I carefully sat on the edge of the bed, scared to hurt his fragile being.

"How was school? You don't look okay," Typical Tommy, always worried about everyone else.

I glanced at the door, checking to see if Mom was coming back in.

"She won't," Tommy stated, reading my mind.

I inhaled and turned towards the tiny boy, "It's not okay."

"Tell me," He said, repeating my mothers earlier words.

"They came up to me today in the hall. They wouldn't let me just walk away, I tried. Tommy, I'm always sick of being made fun of because we don't have much. I just want to go to school, or anywhere really, and be accepted. I hate this," I felt hot tears rush towards my eyes, "They poured soda on me. Someone pushed me down," I reached up and felt my hair, which was still sticky from the Coke. I managed to get most of it out, but not all of it. I pulled my shirt up and showed Tommy the bruises from being pushed down. Bruises in the shapes of their tennis shoes covered my stomach and ribs. Much worse than earlier today.

"I wish I was better, and bigger. I would beat them all up for you," His shaky hand collected my fingers. He pulled my shirt back down over my middle.

"I know," I whispered, the tears spilling out down my cheeks.

"Please don't cry," His tiny voice quivered, "You're going to make me cry."

I nodded and wiped the tears away as best as possible. Tommy was the only one who really knew. My mom and dad were completely oblivious to what was happening at school, thankfully. There was some code between all of us at school that outside, and around grown-ups, we acted as friends, no matter what really happened.

Tommy's tiny fingers moved to my wrist and carefully pulled down the bracelets, "You promised me that you would stop, and you didn't," he said.

My eyes rolled down to my wrists, covered with jagged white scars and scab covered cuts, "I tried," Was all that I could say.

"I don't like it," I felt as the tip of his pointed slid across the countless scars. I watched closely, studying the cuts. They were so ugly, something that I ruined myself with. A reminder of how much of a failure I was, how much of a waste life was. They crossed each other, all collectively at the base of my hand so that I could cover them.

"I know, I'm so sorry, Tommy," I looked at the pale boy, my heart breaking as the realization of me betraying him set in. The pressure crushed me when our eyes met.

"Do you have homework?"

I nodded in response.

"You should go do it, that way you can come back in tonight."

"Okay," I stood up and kissed his forehead, which was warm with fever.

"I love you," he whispered as I opened the door.

I stopped, still facing the wall on the other side of the hallway. My feet turned me around so that I was looking at him, "I love you so much more."

A grin covered his face, remembering our game. We could sit on the porch for hours under the moonlight, arguing over who loved who more. In the end we would always call a truce, unable to come to a reasonable agreement. I watched his smile falter before falling away completely, "I'm going to take a nap," He mumbled, resting his head against the headboard.

Tears pricked my eyes again, but this time, I didn't contain them. I had no one to contain them for.