Flicker Pain

[3] chances

I stepped off the bus, walking swiftly. A girl from my history class last semester lived on the same street as me, and in the few times I'd walked with her I'd learned that she was narcissistic, irritating, and our conversations often went in too-long pauses and quick, thankful goodbyes. These days, she walked with a different girl, and their laughter followed me down the street as I approached my house.

It was an old two-story, with a large patch of ivy growing along the fading bricks. A wooden fence, full of broken panels and cracks, stretched towards the backyard from the left side. In the backyard were remnants of younger days: the swing set that never creaked with the joy of our laughter anymore, the pool that we hadn't had the time to get cleaned, and the tree house that we'd stopped setting foot in once we discovered a bee's nest in the corner. The front door was on the opposite side, facing the main road in town. There were two garage doors, fit for cars we didn't have, and a small chimney on top of the sloping roof that once or twice a year had smoke blowing out of it. In better shape, it looked like a dream house, but now it just looked well-loved.

I walked up the path of jagged stones, keeping my eyes open wide. Slowly but surely, the darkened wood of the double doors entered my vision. My brain told me to anticipate a paper, a note, a letter tacked onto it. Experience told me I had nothing to worry about.

Experience won the battle as I faced my front door, blank as it had always been in the six years that I'd lived there. My pounding heart began to slow dance, and my hunched back settled into calm waters. I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and whispered a soft prayer.

I thank God for giving me luck today.

Twisting the key into the lock, I stepped inside and slammed it shut behind me. I walked past the trash, the photographs, the paperwork, and I went into the family room, where my mother normally was.

As usual, she was asleep on the couch, most likely taking a break from the cleanup.

I swallowed my greeting and instead went up to my room, which – in actuality – was my brother's. I didn't sleep in my room anymore. Not since he left, and not since the flood that sent everything spiraling downwards.

I stepped over the mess I'd made, and climbed into the bed. I pulled the covers up high and turned to face the wall, ignoring the way my heart jumped each time a car came close.

I prayed to God again. I asked him to let me never have to worry again, to make my heart always calm, to make things good, to make my life be normal.

Some people just didn't know how good they had it.

* * *

"So, do you know anyone in your classes?" My friend, Tahlia, asked me.

"Nope. Just Casey, but we don't talk very much."

It was lunchtime. Tahlia was one of the few friends I'd made last semester, but unfortunately we'd ended up separated for all of our classes. Her dad – conveniently – was a teacher, and at lunch he always let us use his office to eat or even just to talk. We sat on opposite cushions, talking face-to-face for the first time since the semester began.

"Casey's in your class? Which one?" She asked, her voice filled with something akin to dread. Casey had been our other friend last semester, but things had always been a little more awkward with her.

"Spanish."

"Oh. Does she talk to you a lot?"

"Not really. Her best friend is in that class, too, so mostly she talks to her."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

It didn't really suck that much. Casey was a person only tolerable in small doses: nice and sweet, but when you had too much it quickly lost its appeal. I couldn't count the number of times she'd talked to me about her problems with all of her close friends.

I asked her the same. "Know anyone in your classes?"

"Nope. I don't have a single friend in any of my classes. I wish that we still had biology and history together."

"Me too. I'm already counting down the days to the end of the year."

"Way ahead of you, Maya."

Our conversation continued like this for the rest of the period. Her dad cut in once, telling us that we shouldn't be so negative when the semester has just begun. But I secretly knew that Tahlia agreed with me.

Sometimes, being a little negative was fun.

Whether or not the positive outcomes were possible.

* * *