In the very few French classes I attended, I picked up the phrase L'appel du vide, meaning the "call of the void." The romantic appeal of self-destruction.
I wasn't addicted to drugs. I was addicted to destroying myself.
It started with what I call the Insomniac Initiation Sequence. I stayed up late, warding off nightmares with my resistance to unconsciousness, and depending on bitter black coffee to keep me up. A raccoon would be jealous of the bags under my eyes. I'd probably gotten less than 24 hours of sleep in the last three months.
Then came the smoking. It calmed my nerves, the nerves that got jumbled from the caffeine and the sleeplessness. I destroyed myself because I destroyed myself. I smoked because I didn't sleep, and I didn't sleep because of things my own mind put against me. It was all a mess.
I showed up late to school, which wasn't out of character. The cross country team was heading out for their morning run, their legs moving to keep from freezing. I pulled my coat tighter around me, discontent with the thought of nothing covering my legs but those sad excuses for shorts.
People stared as I walked past, and I knew it was because it looked like I'd been punched. It wasn't like my appearance was a new thing. I'd been like this since freshman year of high school, so they should be used to it at least by now.
I shook my feet as I got inside, water flying off of my shoes. I shuffled to the cafeteria and slumped at one of the emptier tables. I set my backpack on the floor next to me, and someone shoved my shoulder.
"Hey, I've always wondered, what's it like to be dead?" Tommy asked, his excessively freckled face scrunching into a sneer as his obnoxious laugh permeated the large room. "Leave me alone," I grumbled. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch it. Hold on, let me get my Ouija board—" "Quit it, man."
Tommy looked back in surprise, where Steve Harrington had a hand on his arm. "She didn't do anything to you," he said, shrugging at my bewildered expression. Tommy shot me a dirty look and stomped away like a child, and Steve turned to me. "Thanks," I choked out, still a little confused by the whole situation. "Don't mention it," he said quickly, and then walked away. I turned back forward and pulled out a book.
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"He stopped them?" Nancy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. We were an unlikely pairing, maybe that's why our friendship worked so well. "Yeah," I said slowly, still not quite believing it myself. "I just don't get why. I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything."
"What if he likes you?" Nancy gasped excitedly, her brown eyes widening eagerly. "Nance, I wouldn't read that far into it. He said a total of three words to me. I don't really think that's plausible." "Use whatever big words you want, Lola, but I've got my own ideas."
I sighed and rolled my eyes, but a smile crept onto my face. I put my head down on my arms, pushing my tray of unidentifiable food forwards. "Hi, Steve," Nancy said cheerfully, nudging my arm roughly. "Hey," I groaned, lifting my head up. "Um, hey, Lola," Steve mumbled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I was wondering if you had the problems we were supposed to do in Geometry? I lost my worksheet."
I stared up in confusion, trying to absorb the fact that the real Steve Harrington was voluntarily talking to me for the second time in one day. I was jolted out of my stupor when Nancy shoved my arm, giving me a pointed look. "Uh, yeah, I think so."
I started to dig through my messy backpack and pulled out a worksheet covered in triangles and problems. "Here you go." I slid the crumpled paper across the table and he picked it up. "You know you actually have to do these to get credit, right?" he chuckled, shooting me a grin. I looked down sheepishly and shrugged.
"Well, I'm gonna assume you won't need this back," he sighed. "Thanks." I waved sarcastically as he went back to the table where his friends were sitting in all of their obnoxious glory. I laid my head back down on my arms, but I picked it back up again when I felt someone staring at me. I looked next to me where Nancy was grinning at me. "Shut up," I groaned.
"This is so weird, Lola," Nancy laughed. "Steve Harrington talked to you. It's like the blending of two worlds." "Thanks for the insight, Nance."
I picked my head up reluctantly and patted down my choppy dark hair, trying to make it lay flat. I brushed my bangs back out of my eyes and let my them drift over to where Steve was sitting with his friends Tommy and Carol. I looked at him, the king of the school, a pretentious and spoiled rich brat. It was in my nature to hate him. The burn-outs hate the preps, it's the law of the world; it keeps us balanced.
"Enjoying the view, Masterson?" I heard a shrill voice call out, shaking me out of my existential thoughts. I focused once again on the table where the golden trio sat, and saw Carol mocking me, her outrageously red hair making me want to puke. I flipped her off, causing her and Tommy to start cackling.
"Oh, does Zombie Girl have a crush on Stevie?" This caused another fit of obnoxious laughter and I picked up my bag, shoving my stuff into it. "Come on, Nance," I mumbled, shooting a dirty look in their direction as the two of us left the cafeteria.
so whaddya y'all think
idk if i like this or not but imma keep writing it and see
