Grayscale

Chapter Seventeen

        “Calypso, holy shit. Can you even see? Are you still blind? Orange definitely does not go with pink. Put that nasty ass shirt away. I’ve told you about a thousand times not to wear it anyways. If you’re going to wear pink jeans, you need to pair them with white or black.” I opened my mouth, about to argue that there had to be some other color that went with these jeans. “Ah, no. No protests. I get the whole “Oh, poor me, I just got out of grayscale, don’t stick me back in it,” but they’re the only colors that will look good with bright pink jeans. So either put the jeans away, or suck it up Buttercup.”

        “Bitch,” I muttered, reaching in my closet for this flowing, white shirt I had. It complemented my curves pretty well, but I liked the orange one so much better. And I thought these jeans went just fine with that shirt.

        “He will be here in three minutes, Caly. Put the god damned white shirt on before I shove you outside half-dressed. And I’m taking that tank top with me when I leave, and I’m dumping it off at the nearest burn pit. It’s dead. Stop thinking about it.” She reached underneath my bed and pulled out my favorite pair of combat boots. They were in the air before I even realized she was throwing them, and I had about half a second to react before one was going to crash into my face. Luckily, though, I managed to keep the heel of the boot from breaking my nose, and I caught the other one with ease, as it was soaring past me to the left instead of heading straight for my face. “Put them on,” she instructed. “I’ll get you a jacket. And it’s going to be black. No complaining, or I’m never helping you again.”

        I sighed loudly as she walked over and began digging through my closet, searching for the perfect jacket. She flipped me off in return for the sigh before returning to the task at hand, and I laced up my boots.

        “Ah ha!” Robin exclaimed. “Perfect.” She tossed a faux-leather jacket at me that I hadn’t worn since about eighth grade.

        “Robin, this hasn’t seen the light since our Blood on the Dance Floor ages. Do I really have to wear this?” I paused tying my boots to lift it up and examine it. I could practically see the “emo” kid I used to be. All I could see was the fingerless gloves I would usually pair with this, the too-tight skinny jeans and requisite Converse. It almost pained me to think about putting this back on, inviting this chapter of my life back in. Besides being terrible at dressing myself in eighth grade, I’d also attempted suicide twice that year. Once while I was wearing this jacket.

        “You’ll look kick-ass, and –” My phone chimed from my nightstand, signaling Gabriel’s arrival. “– if you don’t wear it, you won’t have a jacket to wear, because this is all you get. Put it on or freeze. Your choice. It’s pretty cold out tonight.”

        I sat the jacket down and quickly finished lacing up my boots. “You’re a real treat sometimes, you know that?” Jumping up, I reached back down and grabbed the jacket from the floor and then my purse from the foot of my bed before I rushed out of my bedroom, not even giving her enough time to answer me. I guessed it was time to give the jacket a new life.

        “Bye, Mom. Reed will have me back in about two hours,” I called into the kitchen. I hadn’t yet told her about everything that had happened today. She knew something was up – or I wouldn’t be leaving “so late,” but she didn’t have the slightest clue exactly what was going on. I’d tell her when I was ready. She hounded me all the time about how my soulmate was coming. Now that he had, she was going to think I was lying to get her to shut the hell up.

        I kind of wished that that was the case. I had been pretty content with Reed. He didn’t always make the shadows and the voices better, but he did sometimes, and when he didn’t, my medication did a pretty good job. I really only had a few bad days, and with his help, they had been occurring further and further apart. He had been a good thing for me – and I knew I’d been good for him. His breakdowns about Madeline had also become less frequent.