Contraindication

Three| Greasy Faces

"Any pizza can be personal if you cry while eating it."
— Aparna Nancherla

Every pizza has been personal to me since I was 11.

"Take your meds! Everything will be fine if you just take them." I rolled my eyes at his petty comment as I trotted down the stairs in the morning. My entire body was on fire and I felt like dying—too bad I couldn't.

Greeting me on the countertop was a bright pink note from Steve:

Hey Evelyn,
I got you a higher dosage of your medication. I hope this helps with your little unstable problem. Take two whenever you start feeling stressed. I'll come by and pick up the old bottle later today.
P.S. If you start feeling different, let me know ASAP.

— Steve

I crumpled up the sticky note and twisted the fresh pill bottle in my hands. There was no label and no sign of what I was putting into my body. Just a clear yellow bottle with tiny white pills. I twisted the cap open and popped two of the pills in my mouth. After that, I walked over to the fridge to get a glass of water to wash them down.

Yesterday, we threw out my mom's fancy white carpet and bleached everything. Spending my Sunday cleaning my guts off the couch was awful.  I didn't even get a choice! Steve dragged me out of my bedroom and told me if I didn't help him clean up, I'll regret it.

And when Steve says I'll regret something, he really means it.

The sound of clicking heels on the tiled floor entered the kitchen. I felt the tiny white pills go down my sore throat as my mom entered the kitchen. "Morning mom," I coughed.

My mother smiled as she placed her opened briefcase on the counter. She had on her classic black business suit with matching black heels. Her light brown skin was no longer pale as she recovered from passing out yesterday, and her messy curly hair was now tamed in a bun. "Morning Evelyn," She walked past me and placed a coffee capsule in the machine, "I still can't believe you ruined my white carpet with paint! You better get an A+ on that school project."

I looked away and finished my water. "Mm-hm..." I placed the cup in the sink and the bottle of pills in my pocket.

"Are those the new ones?" She looked at my grey sweatpants pockets.

"Yep..." I dried my hands, "just a higher dosage."

She nodded her head and took out her tall thermos cup for her coffee. My mom was an editor for some fancy magazine company—I didn't know the name because her work never interested me. She mainly did business meetings and conducted interviews with famous people— that's all I think? Because of that, her schedule was tight and she was never home. "Well, have fun at school today, I have to work late to make up for my vacation hours." She frowned as she peaked her head out of the fridge, "I'm surprised there's leftover pizza... you always eat an entire box? Are you ok?"

"Fine actually," I grabbed my school back and water bottle from the fridge. "I just felt like I needed to watch my weight." That was partly true... I actually just didn't feel like eating the pizza because images of my decapitation and my body moving like a worm still haunted me. "Bye, mom." I sighed, then grabbed my car keys.

* *<%) * *

In Beans Ville, there were two schools: St. Cajetan's Academy for boys, and Beans Ville Secondary School. I went to the latter because even though my mom can afford a private school; I wasn't a dude. Beans Ville Secondary School was a school under the radar. The Beans Ville Wizards haven't won any tremendous competitions and or championships. The only enjoyable thing about the school was that the graduation rate was high. That's only because none of the teachers were hardcore enough to fail anyone. If you show up for one day or just write one test you pass with 50 %.