School was slightly more difficult than anticipated for the first few days. Tate was still in the hospital, so there was one less person I was forced to face. Some people talked in hushed whispers and I walked by, eyes cautiously flitting toward me every few words, while others approached me and shook me down for details. Were you really dating both of them? and So what did it feel like to get punched in the face by your own boyfriend?
Brent still hadn't returned to school, which gave me assumption to believe he had been either expelled or assassinated, or both. I had tried to call him a few times but his phone would ring twice then default directly to voicemail. I had decided to let his disappearance temporarily slide since I figured he would call me when he wanted to.
If he wanted to.
On top of all this, Cornelius' attempt to keep the fight from my parents was ultimately shattered by a call from the school. I still remember my parents coming home from work early, a rare case, and scanning me up and down in the foyer, a stony silence settling over the room.
"Tell us honestly, Tourmaline. Are you doing drugs?" My father asked slowly, as if I were too drugged in that moment to understand him.
"No," I replied curtly.
"Then there's got to be some legitimate explanation for your behavior lately. Care to share?"
His voice was sharp, like a verbal slap to the face.
"Is it your meds?"
"No," I said again, this time a little more quickly. "There's no specific reason. I saw two guys fighting, and I wound up in the middle. It was an accident." The lie felt heavy in my mouth.
My mother let out a long sigh, followed by more silence. "Are you telling us the truth?"
"Yes."
They fled upstairs without another word.
* * *
Laurie had invited me over to her house after school on Friday, which I gratefully accepted. She scarcely invited people into her home, so I knew it wasn't an offer to miss.
Laurie had four siblings, all male, harbored in a vibrant, seafoam-colored shotgun house. Empty rain buckets and colorful planters constantly littered the front, and the smell of paint fumes frequently wafted from inside. Her neighbors consisted of a marijuana bakery and an aggressive timeshare salesman that lingered on the street five days a week thrusting pamphlets at passerbys. And her parents, as kind as they were, were the fifty-year-old equivalents of Stepford wives.
If I were Laurie I'd probably shy away from inviting people over, too.
Laurie lay on her bed stomach-down flipping through her phone thoughtlessly. I sat on the floor, propped up by her floor-length mirror.
"Did you know Susanna has a summer home in the 90211 zip?"
"No," I replied, setting my book down on the brown 60's carpet. "I knew she had some money, but I didn't know she was that rich."
"I always had a feeling," said Laurie. "She stinks of trust fund baby."
I opened my mouth to speak but hesitated. "This is kind of a non sequitur, but do you know how Tate's doing?"
She made an over-exaggerated groan. "You dumped him, Tourmaline. He's probably crying in his bed while scrolling through pictures of you. Regular break up stuff."
I decided not to point out that sobbing over photos on your phone didn't exactly sound like regular break up stuff.
"Seriously, Laurie," I said.
YOU ARE READING
Tourmaline
Teen Fiction"Some people are just simply and utterly unlovable." He fell silent. His breathing was rhythmic and manual, as if he had accidentally fallen asleep. I took a moment to listen to the soft whistle of his exhales, the sound of his fingers tapping a fas...
