(I know the formatting is insane so please excuse that. Also, this is not proofread so i am aware that there are plenty of mistakes. I'll come back and fix them. )
Willa
Mom had been acting really strange ever sense the first one. Now we were on mysterious phone call number three and I was pretty much dying to know who it was keeping her so giddy. How could she be so happy right now? We were splurging, seriously splurging on things we didn’t need, I was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion and to make matters worse, my arms were getting tired from hauling bags around.
“Rickie, if I ever die, promise me you won’t let my mom dress me in this for my funeral.”
I lifted a tiny frilled dress out of one of our shopping bags, trying not to gag. I hated overly girly clothing pieces with a passion. This little number had become the epitome of why I hated these things. It was pink and had frilly shoulders and a cut out back. It was like a wearable advertisement condoning female sexualization, gender stereotypes and overall, complete conformity.
She laughed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure my mom was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t, she’d walked off to take a phone call, disappearing in the crowded flea market.
“Well, on the bright side. The material is probably really good for burning. It might make a nice fire if it gets too chilly out.”
In our few short hours together, I’d learned three very likeable things about Rickie. One, she was some sort of pyromaniac; two, she despised Patricia, and three she had a weird gift of being able to blow monster sized bubbles of gum while carrying on a full conversation.
It was nearly eight inches by the time she finished her sentence. When it popped, it splattered all over her face, making her look like she was being smothered. For a moment I almost panicked, but then she peeled it off, discarding it into the nearest trash bin.
I wrapped my arms around my body now, trying to warm up. Only my mother would conveniently want to go on a shopping spree in the freezing cold in an outdoor flea market. She claimed it was because no one else would be shopping and she’d be able to get the best deals. She was wrong on both accounts. The place was crowded; uncomfortably crowded, might I add. And so far, the small amount that we’d gotten from my Dad’s life insurance was pretty much gone from the ridiculous deals we’d been sucked into.
“So,” She said after a moment. “You’re having issues with your boyfriend or something?”
I looked at her now, whipping my neck around so fast I caught a breeze.
“What Emmet? He’s not my boyfriend.” I tried to choke out a laugh but it came out as throaty sputtering sound.
“Wow.” Was all she’d said.
I turned my whole body on the bench to face her now, placing some of our bags at my feet. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, the way you too act around each other. It’s like an old bickering couple.”
So this was how the outside world saw us, or at least the people who didn’t know about our past. I decided that now would be a good time to fill her in on it, seeing that astonishingly enough, Patricia hadn’t already.
So, I pulled my sweater around myself tighter now, and looked around to make sure people weren’t paying attention. It was old news for most and the ones who remembered my face from the news were no longer around like they used to be; Egging my house, running me out if grocery stores, spray painting the words killer on my moms station wagon. But still, I spoke near a whisper, afraid that someone would pick up and miraculously decide to start this whole sand storm again.
I told her everything. The things that everyone knew, and the details that people had forgotten. By the time I finished with my story, Rickie had a look on her face that I couldn’t decipher. Then again, maybe she’d froze somewhere during my story and I hadn’t realized it. I waved my hands in front of her dark eyes.
My stomach had started doing this uncomfortable flipping dance and I suddenly worried that I shouldn’t have told Rickie any of this. Now she was thinking of me the way everyone did. I had suddenly morphed into a bloodthirsty freak with two horns sticking out of my head right before her very eyes.
My mom sneaking up behind us to place her cold hands on Rickie’s shoulders was enough to jolt her back to consciousness.
“You girls better get up; I’m so hungry I might end up making you into snow cones.”
Only my mother could die laughing at such a cheesy joke. I tried to smile thinking about this as I stood. Rickie followed by example, although now she was moving kind of robotically.
“Where are we gonna eat?” I asked my mind too preoccupied with what was going on in my newfound ex friends head.
“Wherever you want, as long as we can get some food into me soon.”
We grabbed our bags and began making our way back to the car, now. Rickie and I lagged behind. Mom didn’t notice, she was too busy with her eyes glued to her cell phone as she smiled texting someone.
Now Rickie spoke. “Sorry for spacing out on you back there.”
There was a surge of relief inside when she finally spoke to me.
“I don’t blame you.” I admitted. “It’s a pretty crazy story. I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”
“Hate you?” she asked.
I began to explain what I meant, but then realized that she just hadn’t finished talking.
“I can’t hate you for something you didn’t do, and neither should anyone else.”
“I’m glad you think that.” I said, feeling like a large weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
She stopped now. “From what you told me, I’m not the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s your mama for starters-“
I cut her off. “She’s my mom; she’s not allowed to hate me.”
She gave me a look and I shut my mouth. She continued. “Then there’s that guy you were with yesterday, Payne?”
I laughed at the way she pronounced his name. “Payton, you mean. And fine, I’ll give you that one.”
If anything, Payton loved me too much, there was no getting rid of him. Thinking about this I couldn’t help but feel guilty that he wasn’t with us. I’d have to make it up to him.
She smiled, proud of her self. “Finally, there’s Emmet.”
At this, I nearly dropped a bag into an icy puddle mid-step. I opened my mouth to begin but suddenly, not a single word in my defense could manifest. I’d never really thought about it, but it would be pretty tough for Emmet to hate me if he didn’t remember me.
“That’s complicated.” I settled, beginning to walk again.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Save My Life
Teen Fiction(First Draft, expect errors) He needed to remember... What she wanted to forget... He shouldn't have saved her, he didn't have to. Or at least, that’s what everyone’s told him. To be honest, Emmett doesn't know what to think. The amnesia took...
