“Hey, jail-girl! How’s life?” I look up from examining the camera’s exterior to see Malex with a genuine grin. Genuine, in ‘I’ll hate you forever,’ of course. She waggles her hand, that’s poking out of her cast. My expression is tasteless as I return a reply.
“It’s good. Great, actually. I see your broken arm’s doing fine.”
Her face becomes pink, like someone had lightly slapped her. If only….
“Heard you went to a therapist.” She spits, rubbing her injured arm. I become clammy and my teeth feel like they’re chattering.
“How’d you hear?” Preston asks for me, and I gratefully, silently mouth thank you. I cannot look at Malex anymore, as I started to dig into my backpack, to put away the camera and look for an imaginary necessity. Her next words stop me, the camera hovering over the pocket of my bag.
“My dad’s the principal, what’d you expect? All it took was a little whining, a broken arm, and bam.” She pounded her fist against her other open palm. I gape, and I hear Preston grunt.
“What’d you do, fake it?” I nodded in agreement, my fist threatening to crack the camera I was still holding. She smiled, running her fingers through her boy-cut of muddy hair. She undid a buckle, slipped off the cast, and threw both arms in the air.
“I’m free, baby!” She whirled around, her arms like wings-clumsy wings, in that sense.
“That’s going pretty low, Malex.” I growl, my eyes like a cat. She picks at her bitten nails nonchalantly, with a sly face looking down at me. Preston steps in front of me, eyeing her.
“Look, what do you want anyways? What are you getting out of this?”
She lowers her hand, fumbling with the buckles and eventually her arm is back in a sling. One thing that hasn’t changed is her sly smile. It’s nagging at me, itching my brain. Stop smiling. Stop!
“Dad told me something else, actually. It surprised me, a lot.” She widens her eyes, lowering her eyebrows dramatically. “You know, how all schools have permanent records of each student, including you and me. Vous et moi.” She nods her head at Preston. “And him.” Preston moans behind me, obviously annoyed.
“What are you even talking about?” I say, although I have a strange feeling.
I’m confused, yet everything’s crystal clear. Muffled, but I can hear everything. Why? I know there aren’t anymore secrets...yet there’s still ones that I can’t imagine being revealed. I grasp my necklace, stroking each branch and jeweled leaf. Mom, Dad, so help me.
She’s still smiling.
“Would you STOP smiling?!” I cry hoarsely, not realizing how screwed up this was, everything, everyone. How did I not before? Everything’s becoming...melting together, Preston’s hand pulling me back, hair caught in my face, Malex’s idea of a smile, the camera dropping from my hand onto the ground, the gush of wind knocking my bag over and harshly kissing-no-slapping my cheeks, I….
“Wanna know the dirty, little, secret?” She taunts, walking closer.
Is this what alcoholics feel like when they’re not near a bar? Lumbering along, hung over, brains half-functioning, half-asleep? I grumble no, but she doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t. Because this is a screwed up world.
“Back off, Malex.” Preston lets out a wave of curses, but she pushes him to the side and looks at me.
“Remember that time you flat-out beat me up? That was mean, Zoie,” She makes a tsk sound with her tongue, kneeling near me. “Poor you, Poor Zoie. Hey, at least your parents can’t feel the disgrace of their daughter. Ever, actually.”
Screwed up world, screwed up world, scre-
YOU ARE READING
I Don't Really Know...
أدب المراهقين~ "Ｙｏｕ ｍａｙ ｂｅ ｄｅａｄ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ, ｂｕｔ ｎｏｔ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｓｉｄｅ. Ｔｈａｔ ｂｅａｔｉｎｇ ｈｅａｒｔ, ｉｔ’ｓ ｇｏｔ ｔｈｅ ｌｉｆｅ ｏｆ ａ ｄｒｅａｍｅｒ, ａ ｂｅｓｔ ｆｒｉｅｎｄ, ...
