Constant

Chapter 4

The girls' bathroom filled with the awful blend of dozens of essential oils as I toppled my backpack in the sink. My eyes stung from the fumes.

As the door swung open. Bethany and another girl entered. The girl I didn't know the name of wrinkled her nose and emitted a disgusted noise. "Eww, what the hell?" she exclaimed, glancing at me.

"Sorry," I muttered, attempting to sweep the glass shards into the trash with a scrap of toilet paper. She rolled her eyes and vanished into a stall. Meanwhile, I struggled to pat my backpack's interior dry, fighting back tears at the overpowering scent. I tried not to gag.

"Is it a special dietary lunch or a failed chemistry project?" Bethany asked, and I couldn't discern if she was mocking me or not.

"Neither," I replied in a flat voice.

"Our dear new girl seems to be one of the nonsensical oil-people," the other girl scoffed from within the stall. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I had been in Highstone for a mere two weeks, and apparently, I had already soiled my reputation. Thanks Mom.

"I saw you got pushed in the hallway," Bethany said quietly, just above a whisper. "Don't care about Ben, he's a douche. Okay? He's very over-protective of his little sister."

"I noticed," I replied dryly. Bethany handed me a tissue, and I accepted it without a word.

"Also, don't mind Joyce," Bethany consoled with her normal speaking tone. "She's a bitter old lady... or teenager. Sometimes it's hard to tell." She smiled, and I forced a smile in return. Joyce stepped out of the stall, barely glancing at me, as she washed her hands before leaving with Bethany.

After doing my best to clean the backpack, I scrutinized my disheveled reflection. My mascara had smeared, and my red hair was a mess. As it always was. Why did I let Mom convince me to do this? And how was I going to explain that I broke hundreds of dollars' worth of essential oils? I needed to learn to stand up for myself, learn to say no. No is a complete sentence. No. Nothing more. Just no.

I met my gaze in the mirror.

"Just say no," I muttered. "It's not that hard."

I scoffed. Not even my reflection believed me.

Mom's blue Fiat awaited outside when I arrived home, after leaving my smelly bag in my locker, trying to buy time to clear up the situation. Mom was unpacking boxes in the living room, the overpowering scent assaulting me, when I walked in.

"Hi sweetie," Mom greeted, smiled. "Can you help me with this?" She opened a box and picked up a smaller box, labeled cinnamon, and by the sounds of it, it was another load of essential oils. "Did you sell it all?" I shook my head, her smiled fading. "Why?"

"Because... it's against school rules," I lied.

"You could ask people after school," Mom suggested. "Or before school. There are a million opportunities."

I sighed. "People at school won't buy fifteen-dollar oils. It's not their thing. They're kids. They're not into oils."

"Then tell them how much it can improve their lives. Like with focus and brain function," she insisted. "And if they don't like the oils, you can always go with incense or candles. We will be getting incense holders in a couple of days. They're beautiful! Any girl would love to have them." She rummaged through a box. "And the teachers, wow, I can't even imagine all the good it could do in the teachers' lounge. They could need some relaxing scents." Her excited tone devastated me, because she wouldn't be as excited anymore when she learned what I had done.

I groaned. "Mom, I don't-"

"Shush!" she interrupted. "Don't you want to help people? This is the answer to everything, Maya."