In The Midnight of My Life

6; You're a Cunt, I'm a Cunt

I stormed into the main office, where the upperclassmen's lockers ran along one wall, and approached Birdy, who was chatting it up with a couple of the junior girls. Normally I would be too intimidated to even approach Birdy's older friends, much less rudely interrupt one of their conversations, but in that moment  I was too mad to care. 

        "Birdy," I said loudly, as they all turned to stare down at me in surprise, "I need to talk to you. Could you meet me in the hallway?" 

        Birdy's voice was soft and cautious, and her eyes widened behind her thick glasses.

        "Yeah," she said, "Just give me a second." Without responding, I turned and walked out into the hallway, then made a right towards the history room, a direction no one would be walking in until classes started. While I waited there with my arms crossed, I stared out the window. There were no houses visible from the the back of the school, just forest that I knew stretched on barely broken for miles. If I squinted through the branches, I could just make out the hazy, rolling blue hills of the Appalacian Mountains.

       I heard the door from the office to the hallway slam back on its frame, but didn't turn to watch Birdy approach me. I didn't have a coherent reason in my head for why I was angry at her, I think I was just at a loss and looking for someone to blame. Even at that time, some part of me knew that what I was doing was less than mature or fair of me.

        "So, what's up?" she said. I rolled so my back was supported by the windowpane and saw her standing against the opposite wall. Her arms were crossed as well, and she looked sad. 

        "My parents came into the school yesterday to show your story to Mr. Cohen and try to get you arrested," I said, "They think you're a predator." Birdy's mouth opened in shock. Her already enormous hazel eyes became even wider, magnified by her spectacles. 

        "What the fuck . . ?" she gasped, "What--"

        I cut her off. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't sent me that fucking story." 

        Her eyes immediately narrowed into slits as she stepped in closer. Her arms were spread in disbelief, palms up. At 5 ft 6 inches, it was safe to say that Birdy towered over me, but I stared up into her face with cold rage. 

        "And that fucking prank call your brother pulled this summer? That really helped moved things along," I said, rolling my eyes. 

        "What-- how-- I can't even," she stammered, looking at me like I was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen, "How the fuck are you blaming me for this right now? How the fuck is it MY fault that your parents are fucking crazy bastards who would want to call the cops on a fourteen year old girl for EMAILING A FUCKING STORY??" 

        "Stop shouting," I said through my teeth. 

        "And you're just as crazy as they are!" she continued, barely lowering her voice, and beginning to pace back and forth with rage, "As if either of us ever thought this was going to happen! And now you won't even talk to me?? This isn't my fault!"

        "Let's just get one thing straight," I hissed, "I am not crazy. They have been telling me that all summer and it is bullshit. And do you really think it was my choice to stop contacting you? I'm not even supposed to be acknowledging you right now, and if they ever were to find out I was I'm sure they would find a way to get me locked up or switched schools. Do you even know how hard this summer has been for me??" I said, my voice rising, "While you were probably out having crazy parties and going to concerts and meeting boys I had to do shit like clean the bathroom for hours, or sit in my room and listen to my mom tell me why I wasn't her daughter anymore."

        Birdy stopped her pacing and threw her hands up in the air.

        "OH! YOU had a hard summer?? I shed a tear for the baby!" she said, miming a tear track with one finger against her cheek, "This summer, along with all my 'crazy partying and meeting with boys' I had to take care of my grandmother, who was finally officially diagosed with dementia. Half the time she has no idea where she is, and the other half she think I'm my mom," Birdy's eyes started to fill with tears for real this time, "and I always have to be the one to tell her mom's dead because James is never in the house and my Aunt Dee is typically drunk by 11 am." 

        I felt all of my anger collapse inside of me, leaving nothing but sadness. I started rubbing my face with my hands. 

        "Birdy . . " I groaned. I looked up at her, my eyes filled with pity and regret.

        "No!" she shouted, swinging her hands down sharply from above her head and stamping her foot, "You think you have problems, Kate, but you fucking don't! You're a priviledged little cunt who blames other people for any teeny tiny issue in her life! I can't fucking stand you!!"

        I inhaled through my nose and ground my teeth.

        "I'm fucking sorry about your Gran, Birdy," I said quietly, looking down, "But at least you have freedom. Your home life is shit but at least you have privacy. You can sneak out and have friends and be yourself without hiding it. You could even date a girl if you wanted, you could go out with anyone you liked without having to worry about getting thrown in a fucking mental institution. I'm jealous, okay? I'm sorry." 

        There was a pause. I looked up and saw Birdy staring at me with such anger and pain that I had an overwhelming urge to embrace her.

        "No, I fucking couldn't, Kate. I couldn't date you," she spat, and stormed back down the hallway, swinging open the door so hard that it banged into the wall.