𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢 | 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔧𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

I was in my room, trying to fix my hair, when Delia saw me through the open door, promptly sighing with disappointment when she saw my black dress.

"We're meeting with the school people at noon, and we want to make a good first impression," she said with a forced smile. "So, could you maybe wear something a little more cheerful?"
I gave her a hollow glare. "Don't you remember what happened last time you made me wear yellow?"
She silently nodded and left, which made me laugh a little. I found it hilarious how I could still scare her like that. But that glimpse of how everything used to be only made the turning of my stomach more sickening. There was an inevitable feeling of cold, awful dread sitting stagnantly in me. I like to think of myself as productive, but sometimes, I just don't want to do anything. I was having one of those days. Yet, I was still going to have to engage in the draining act of being someone else today, and tomorrow, and for the next few months. I'd have to work laboriously to forge connections with people. Interaction is tiring. I thought of Betelgeuse, and how it was never tiring with him. Actually, that's a lie. He's exhausting, but he understands.

I checked the watch sitting on my dresser for the time. I had about half an hour until we'd have to leave. I understood Delia's point, so I didn't overdo it with my makeup. I didn't wanna look like a total social reject, even if I am.

"Lydia!" Betelgeuse began whining again from
downstairs.
"I'm busy, Betelgeuse!" I yelled back passive aggressively. He really was like a cat. So needy.

I looked in the mirror one more time and wondered how I would perceive myself if  I wasn't me. I think about that kind of stuff a lot.

"Lydia?"
Someone else was pestering me, this time Dad.
"Yeah?"
"Are you almost ready?"
"Yes, Dad," I sighed. "And before you ask, I already took my medicine."
I heard him coming towards me.
"You're wearing that?" he asked, looking down at me disapprovingly.
"Yeah, this is what I always wear."
"Okay."

I crossed my arms insecurely and watched him walk away and down the stairs, and I followed shortly after.
"Don't forget to smile," Delia said when she saw me. My resting face isn't exactly the most inviting, but that's not really my fault. I just naturally look pissed off when I'm relaxed. So did Mama, and she was the sweetest soul I ever knew.
"Sure," I forced myself to say. "When are we leaving?"
"I guess we could go now," Dad suggested. "Adam, Barbara, please watch him."
I felt terrible for them, all alone in the house with Betelgeuse of all things. Demon-sitting is not easy, and I know that firsthand.

"Lydia, I'm not sure why everyone is bothering you about wearing black." Betelgeuse loved inserting himself into conversations. "I think it's a great color."
"I think you're right." I looked over to Delia, grinning with pride.

~☾~

I had a feeling of impending doom when I saw the school. I was sitting quietly in the back seat, twitching my thigh anxiously as we got closer.

"It looks nice," Delia remarked when Dad stopped the car.
I read the silver letters. Plainfield High School. I was breathing hard. "How long do we have to stay here?"
"Well, not too long, honey," Dad assured.

I didn't care how childish it was that I was holding Dad's hand as we walked through the parking lot. I remembered holding Beej's hand as we walked towards Hell and felt a sense of unsettling familiarity. A tall man greeted us at the door. He was well-dressed and looked a little younger than Dad. He introduced himself as the guidance counselor, Mr. Berlusconi, which reminded me of a weird Italian desert I tried at The Cheesecake Factory once.

He shook hands with Dad and Delia, then turned to me. I extended my arm politely.
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Lydia," he said as he shook my hand.
"You too." I thought about how that response made no sense and bit my lip in a punishment.

We followed him to his weird little office which was the home to a life-sized model of Theodore Roosevelt. It really just kept getting stranger. He pushed in my chair when I sat down, which was also kind of weird, but I brushed it off as a gesture of respect.
"Lydia, we are so happy to have you here." I didn't like the way he over-pronounced my name.   I wished wildly for Betelgeuse. He said my name right. Mr. Berlusconi continued. "Your parents have already met with some of the other staff, but I'm the guidance counselor, and I just wanted to check in and learn a little bit about you before your first day."
I hummed compliantly.

He started by asking the basics, like how old I was and when I would be sixteen and if I liked any nicknames, but then he started getting into dangerous territory.
"So, Lydia, who lives at home?"
I almost started laughing. If only he knew. "Um, just me and my dad and my stepmom."
"Oh." He tried to look understanding. "Does your biological mother have partial custody?"

I shut my eyes. The loss was no longer an open, bleeding wound, but a stitched lesion that would throb if bumped the wrong way. 
"No, she passed away last year," Dad answered stoically. The silence was loud.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
I had heard those words a million times. I didn't want anyone's pity. I wanted things to be different.
"What's your favorite subject?" he asked to change the uncomfortable topic. I was kind of relieved.
"English."

He asked some more questions about my 'classroom ethic' and stuff like that, but the room's air was clearly turned stiff and awkward to point of no redemption. I couldn't wait to get out of there. Before we left, he reminded me that I would have a student helping me around the school tomorrow. I thought of the social horror of a forced friendship. We thanked him and finally got out of there. It smelled like milk and crayons.

"Well, that was thoroughly awkward," Dad laughed as soon as he shut the car door.
"Yes, that was very weird," Delia agreed. "But he was nice. I'm sure it will be a great experience, Lydia." She reached behind herself to pat my knee. Mom used to do that.