Queen of Nothing

26. writer's guild

A whole month of not talking to Milo. I couldn't recall who started ignoring the other, but we fell into a routine of sidestepping one another. My pride was deeply bruised after finding out about his foray with Zara, and his was equally squashed after learning that I still had the hots for his stepbrother. 

We were all fire, all heat and passion and back and forth, impossible to douse, only too easy to ignite further. 

So I did what I knew best: I found all kinds of new and fun ways to deflect blame from myself. 

I'd cornered Zara at school the very next day, right before she got ready for lacrosse practice. Technically, I was suspended from school activities for two weeks, which cost me the prom sponsorship and student body council. I was still allowed to attend school, but this time as a social pariah. 

I wasn't accustomed to being so low on the social ladder, right near the kids who sat on the floor in hallways to each lunch. Although I knew better than to seek permission into those groups after only years of taunting them and calling them all kinds of names. 

"Did you sleep with Milo?" 

Her eyes widened in surprise and then slimmed into something akin to a taunt, a challenge, "And what about it?" 

"Did you sleep with him, Zara? Yes or no." 

She laughed in response, "So you are in love with him. Oh how does it feel, Mahi?" 

I growled and slammed her against the locker, "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" 

"Actually," she spat, "I'm thinking clearly for the first time ever." Then, she shoved me off to join her teammates for practice, while I clenched and unclenched my fists and tried my hardest not to cry out of frustration. 

I spent the time in between ignoring Gia too, because of the whole bombshell she'd dropped about our father, and did a fine job of dodging my mother's phone calls. Survival was my only way out. 

That, along with the paltry acceptances I'd received to my backup schools. I'd been waitlisted at Cornell, Berkeley, and NYU. I'd been accepted to UCSB and a couple of other state schools that had accepted me out of pity more than anything. 

"If you were meant to go to Columbia, you'd be going there," my advisor had attempted to console me. 

I shrugged off her weak attempts to make me feel better, began to trudge around the hallways, my head bent, face clean of makeup, not because it made me feel confident, but because I no longer had the drive first thing in the morning to put into myself. 

Even Katie was torn when it came to me. Between spending time with Zara and I, she had been spread pretty thin, her time being consumed by something that she'd started up with Dean. 

I tried to be happy for her throughout all of this, but couldn't put my own selfish anger out of my mind. I was angry at the world, at the people around me who had found new ways to keep failing me. 

My counselor slid a brochure in front of me, "Have you looked at volunteering after school? Might be a nice way to take your mind off of things." 

I frowned, looking at the flyer, "What's this?" 

She sucked in a breath, "The after school writer's guild often meets up at the local library on Fridays to volunteer after school. They read out stories to disadvantaged kids, help organize books, that kind of thing." 

"Why are you showing me this?" I whispered, not meeting her eyes. 

"Because you look like someone that could use a break from all of this," she waved, gesturing at everything and nothing in particular, "and it might be nice to add on to your resume if you decide to appeal the admissions decisions Columbia made."