The Cascading Waves of Caden Lee

09

SCARLETT PARKER

I hate how everything reminds me of him. From the occasional hoodie of his I'll find laying around the house, left behind from my mom's total clearing of his room. Or his XBOX, the one he used to spend hours on, before things got bad.

I pass by his door, my eyes flickering towards the untouched metal of his door knob, and it only takes a second for me to reach forward and enter with a click. His room is the same as ever. Just empty, with what used to hold the air of teenage boy now is stale and cold, dust collecting upon the surfaces of his room.

I never knew I'd see this so soon. Or see his room untouched at all. I guess I thought with how much time he spent in here that he would never leave.

But he did.

My phone chimes, a text lighting up the screen. It's from Caden, we've texted back and forth a bit ever since we exchanged numbers, and I have to say it's nice talking to him. Not stressful like it usually is with others.

"Did you get the email about our locker?" It reads, short and to the subject. That's how it seems to be with him I've noticed, his texts range from personality to personality throughout the day.

My thumbs are typing back a response before I even register what I want to say, "we got an email? What does it say?"

Three bubbles appear, disappearing then reappearing once more. A link pops up. I click it. My page redirects to an email administrated by the district.

"Hello Staff and Students,

We are reaching you to inform the select students to receive this email on the course you will all be enrolled into. The Locker Project, as I'm sure you've heard of, is a Social Experiment YOUR class will be participating in, and by the end of the month will be recorded on how close the two of you got with the other.

Dm further if any questions are needed—"

My laptop clicks shut. I already new this, but it's a much needed refresher, plus a super-helpful reaction. So with a slight smirk tilting my rosy lips, I muster up a response of, "I can't believe this is really happening."

He replies, "me too. And that it's our Final for the quarter? How do you think we'll do, it sounds kinda weird."

"I don't think it'll work."

"It honestly just sounds too friendship-is-power. Giving us a crumb so they can say they did something to prevent us from being stressed."

Nodding along, I resist the urge to roll my eyes with a huff. "Exactly! Like we're in My Little Pony or something."

"They do say Friendship is Magic."

A snort comes out from my nose, quick and coming out nasally. And then I look up. And I notice his dusty old Xbox, and his light, faded jeans. His rolled-up socks thrown carelessly into a laundry bin.

And the refreshing warmth that had encompassed me faded in one, shattering sob.

And then I was crying, and I have to muffle my sobs with the back of my palm from being heard. Because my mom won't understand. No one will.

Thick tears fill my eyes and trickle down my pale cheeks, and you can say you're sad, but you could never be as sad as my brother was. And I'm sure of it.

Why would he kill himself otherwise?

_._._._._._._._._

The thumping of footsteps down the stairs alert me. And soon. I see my moms face peek around the foyer. "Doing Homework?"'

I look down to the open textbook on our Marne countertop and nod with a grin, "yup, going out?"

Her eyes widen in reference to her sapphire blue floral dress and caked-on makeup, and she shrugs with a lilt of her lips. "Get those grades up, it's been too long for you to keep moping around."

"Will do."

With a nod, she saunters out of the kitchen and pulls her jacket from the hook. "I'll be back by 12:30, locked doors only please."

"Okay."

She shuts the door behind the click of her heels, and I still for a moment to make sure she still isn't there. She isn't. Good. I slide my phone out from under the science textbook and text Vicky, "any plans tonight?"

I'm not expecting a response for a little bit, Vicky's a slow texter and it's only 6:30, so plenty of time for a little party to settle into my bones. I want to forget, and I know that sounds bad and all, but alcohol seems to be the only way to escape my sorrows.

Which is ironic, considering the situation. He'd probably laugh about it before quickly telling me not to drown myself in alcohol.

But, surprisingly enough (and weirdly), a notification pops up minutes later with all the details. A subtle smile appears onto my face and if this were a movie my eyes would've brightened. But I'm not exactly staring at myself so it's hard to tell.

The party's at Lea's house. I'm decently close with her, enough so there wouldn't be any questions if I just showed up. So I shimmery out of my night clothes and slide on a lace top paired with a leather skirt. My blue irises travel the length of my body, good but not great. So I amp it up a notch. Red, bold lipstick with eyeliner and lashes.

It's times like these I appreciate my single-parent neglectful mom. Getting to sneak out like this, party without a care.

Soon enough, I'm rolling out of the driveway and up to Lea's party. And there's nothing anyone can do to stop me.