Us Against The World

Chapter 3

It had been three years since I found out about Lucas. Three years since Lucas and I shared our first kiss. Three years of constantly pushing myself to trust him fully. Three years without Riley. Three years of pushing my mom away, and secluding the section of my heart reserved for her. The cold, December air bit at my skin, sending shivers down my spine as I waited outside of my apartment for a certain cowboy to pick me up for school. My long hair was disguised by a red beanie, and I wore a warm leather jacket, left behind by Shawn. It still smelled like him. I was transported back to when him and my mother were happily dating. The memories were protected in my mind. My mom never once got drunk during this time. She even booked an acting job. The Christmas tree was green, with an abundant amount of beautifully wrapped presents under it. I clutched a mug of hot chocolate. It was the first time we spent Christmas at my house. Normally we went to the Matthews, but my mom insisted that everyone come over to our house. My heart was warm from the thought of everyone I cared about was in a small space together. Wrapping paper flew, cookie crumbs dropped, and the scent of sweet smelling holiday candles filled my nostrils. And when Shawn proposed, it was just about the happiest moment of my life. Suddenly, a figure appeared out of the corner of my eye, knocking me out of my trance.

"Good morning, beautiful," Huckleberry said. He handed me my latte and bagel. I wrapped my arms around his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Thanks, Bucky Mc Boing-Boing," I breathed. Snow began to fall around us, and we dashed to his car. Today was the last day before we were officially out for Christmas break. I threw my bag on the floor of his truck and sipped my warm drink. Lucas turned the radio up, and the playlist I had made him for his birthday poured out of the radio. Tear in My Heart by Twenty One Pilots was the first song on the track. Lucas said that it reminded him of me, after once   spending the whole night forcing him to listen to the entire album. I sang along softly to the song, and Lucas smiled to himself.

"Just add singing to your list of talents, then" said Lucas.

"Shut up! A dying horse sings better than me," I retorted. I then realized that I could have chosen a better comparison, considering Lucas had tons of pet horses as a kid. I shot him a 'sorry' glance, and continued on singing.

We eventually rolled up at John Adams High. The day was nothing out of the ordinary. Exams in some classes, and watching movies in others. I had cheer practice after school, so Lucas didn't drive me home as usual.

I trudged home in the snow, soaking my converse in the process. Snow fell heavily now, and I clung fiercely to my beanie. As soon as I neared home, I broke into a sprint, not stopping until I reached my bed. I was going to cook dinner for Lucas tonight, and I didn't want to be frozen alive for that. I clumsily shoved my key into the door and rushed inside. I freshly stocked the cabinets the previous night, using the money I had been saving from my job at the local coffee shop. I decided to start early on dinner. I threw on a pot of boiling water and dumped in a box of dry noodles, accidently spilling them in the process. This would be an interesting night.

Everything was perfect. I set the table with the only glassware we owned, and lit the same holiday candle I remembered from Christmases past. Lucas would be here any minute. I smoothed down my navy blue mini-skirt, and adjusted my cropped, knit sweater. My hair remained in it's natural state, which was curly as ever. It was now 7:30. I told him 7:00. I texted him, saying "Hey Lucas, dinner is ready. Where are you?" No reply. More time passed, and I felt my heart sink. Lucas would never purposely blow me off. Not ever. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what. I threw on Shawn's leather jacket and ran out of the door to Lucas's house.

I arrived at his doorstep, and his mom greeted me warmly. "Hi, Maya. You look beautiful. Lucas is in his room," she smiled.

"Okay, thanks Mrs. Friar." I said. It was so incredibly hard not to go at her right then. I knew that she put on an act, but as soon as the door closed she was violent. I ran up the stairs to Lucas's room. Slowly, I opened the door, mentally bracing myself. There, sat on his bed, was Lucas. And in his hand was an open beer can. His eyes were freshly wet, and they grew wide and immediately filled with regret and disappointment in himself. But I hardly noticed. I was so filled with rage that I could hardly see straight, and it took everything in me not to pounce at Lucas.

"So I see you blew me off to drink," I said, void of all emotion.

"Maya, no, let me explain."

I immediately cut him off. "Because how could the fact that I worked five shifts to scrounge up the money to buy food to cook for us and you're sitting here drinking be important? You said you weren't my mom. You said you weren't my mom!" I forcefully yelled. I snatched the beer can out of his hand and poured it over his head, reminding me of when I did something similar with a smoothie in middle school. Except this wasn't a joke. Hot tears poured down my cheeks, smudging the eyeliner that took me ten minutes to apply perfectly. Lucas's own eyes were damp, and he looked as if he was in so much pain.

"Maya, please let me explain," Lucas pleaded. "Look, I didn't-"

I was done. I was done with people taking my heart and crushing it. Lucas knows better. He knows about my mom. He knows how I feel about alcohol. He knows that I can't go to school parties and watch people drink. He knows that I throw up at the scent of it. I jogged back to my apartment, my tears freezing to my cheeks. I felt more alone then I had in years. Because I always had Lucas. He was supposed to be the one that would never hurt me.

Once I arrived at my door, I willed myself to stop crying. "This isn't you," I thought. I never cried. I felt a certain pressure to keep my tough shell on at all times. Art was the outlet I used to express my feelings. That's what I would use tonight. I lay down an old sheet, and took a blank canvas from my closet. I began mixing colors to form dark shades of red and started madly splattering it all over until I ran out of paint. I splattered other colors over it until my masterpiece had eventually turned into a dark brown clump of paint, perfectly replicating how I felt. It was nearly midnight by the time I finished getting out all of my emotions, and I was so tired. I willed myself to go to sleep, hoping that in the morning, I would wake up in another life. A life where both of my parents were there for me. A life where I had my best friend back. A life where my boyfriend would understand.