Turmoil

You are not Alone

Phoenix

My fist collides with Brandon's nose. There's a satisfying crunch, and blood begins pouring like blood pours out of a girls uterus during her period. Or something like that. I don't really know that much about periods to be honest. I know enough that it turns girls into crazed monsters that eat a tone of chocolate, but not much more than that.

So anyway, the guy's nose is bleeding.

"The hell man? " Brandon's hand goes up to his face and comes away bloody " what is your problem, "

But I'm too angry. Too angry to think straight. Too angry to answer. I'm not sure who I'm angry with though. Atlanta stands by the tree, her eyes wide. I'm not sure what's going on. But if I learned anything at school, is that there are no situations that can't be resolved by punching someone in the face. Clears the air.

"She's my problem, " I have grabbed Brandon by his shirt, soiled by blood now, and my fists goes up.

"Phoenix, don't " Atlanta says, and I've never heard her sound like this, " just don't, "

Our eyes meet from across the clearing. Hers flash. I'm not sure if it's tears. I can handle anything. But not tears.

Tears are awkward and messy. They require so much gentle.

So I'm kinda praying, just a little, that she's not crying, and that this is one huge misunderstanding. Then I feel bad. Cause that's selfish, you know? She can cry all she wants. And I guess, as her best friend, I'll have to comfort her. But I'll deal.

Brandon is still cowering in my grasp. I glare down at him, I'm so much taller. I have kinda forgotten why I'm still grasping him. Atlanta's still staring, at me through under her lashes. Then I lower my hand, and slowly, my fingers uncurl from his shirt.

"Go, " I say to him, and he doesn't need any more encouragement. He runs.

I turn to Atlanta, and maybe it's stupid, it probably is, to expect her to say thank you. Thank you for saving her. She stands there, hunched over, a picture of misery and pity, hugging the dress to her chest. I'm still not sure what has happened, and how to comfort her.

She looks small.

The image of Lorraine, crying, while brushing past me, floats into my brain. She probably saw Brandon kiss Atlanta. Forcing himself onto her. Just like ...

The anger that surges with the name that should end that sentence surprises me. I push it away. I push his name away. I have other things to focus on. This is all a huge misunderstanding. It has to be.

"Are you okay? " I ask finally, when the silence, becomes too much, and she looks up, not at me, but kinda past me, like I'm not even there.

"Why wouldn't I be? " she says, and then something must be on my face because she goes " Oh, "

"Oh what? " I'm asking her. But I think I know the answer. With Atlanta, there are never misunderstandings. It clicks. I had been making my way towards her, slowly, as if scared to frighten a swan. Scared, that this priceless artifact, that this girl, will shatter into a thousand pieces if I move too fast. I stop.

"Oh Phoenix no, " she says, and her voice is soft, almost as if she can see how much she's hurting me. When Atlanta's voice is soft, it means something. It does nothing to ease the knot that has wound it's way in my stomach. It makes it worse " you didn't think that he, "

"Was trying to force himself onto you? " I say and I can't hide the bitter in my voice " why would I ever think that Atlanta? Not that it has happened before or anything, "