ETHEREAL

CHAPTER 24

    "Skyyeeee, hang out with me. I miss youu," I read Damien's text. "I can't, I'm working again, ugh," I reluctantly type back. I would love to forget about everything that is going on in my life, but if I can't pay that ticket, I'll probably end up in jail, and/or my parents would kill me. They may just kill me, anyways.

"You're always working! =(," I roll my eyes at Damien's text. Sometimes, I think that Justin and Damien think that I solely exist to provide entertainment, transportation, and money for them. How else does he think that I will pay off this ticket?

He texts me again, "Just tell your parents what happened, and they will pay for it." I don't know why literally all of my friends think that my parents are incredibly, secretly rich. Damien is delusional if he thinks that they would just hand me $145 that they don't even have, without me working for it in some way.

"He probably thinks that since they paid for your $200 hospital bill," Justin peers over my shoulder to comment on Damien's foolish text. "And they grounded me and made me pay it off," I add. "Whatever, you should've been in more trouble. You should be in more trouble, now," Justin snarls and his phrase has the slightest vitriolic bite to it. I wonder if he is actually my friend, or if he is just an opportunistic, leeching gold digger that I never actually knew. "I feel guilty that you work all of the time, and I'm just hanging out at your house. But, I don't feel guilty enough to actually get a good job, or work with you," Justin adds, unapologetically. I feel like just kicking him out of the house now.

I pull out of our parking space at the mall, and my feet are aching from my ten hour shift. Justin caught a ride with Jace in order to shop and then subsequently, meet me after work. I can't wait to get home and take a soothing, hot shower to relax my tense muscles. "Aren't you gonna buy me Nordstrom? Their food is so fucking good," Justin whines. "No, I'm not your mother," I snap.

I've really had enough of how Justin and Damien use me. I wish I could move away, to California or New York, and never see them again, even though I feel addicted to Damien and I would miss how Justin makes me laugh.

"Ughhh!" Justin slumps back against the passenger seat. I turn the music up, and he is still annoyed that we are sharing the radio, rather than having him have sole control of the music that we play in the car. "But, I got your early birthday gift, even though it's not till Sunday," I smile at him. "Look in the LUSH bag," and I nod at the shopping bag that I placed by his feet earlier. "OMG, Skye, you didn't have to! I use like all of your stuff, and I never replace it, plus you have that speeding ticket to pay off... You make me feel so bad now for complaining about your bag taking up my foot room!" I laugh as he excitedly peers inside of it. "Oohhh, Dirty soap! That's my favorite, omg! And special anti-bacterial soap for nurses, omg I needed this for after work when I feel super grimy! And $20?" He sounds inquisitive.

"Yeah, I put that in there, because I know that you like H&M, but I didn't want to get a gift card, in case you wanted to spend it somewhere else," I look over at him and I hope that it is okay. "It feels kind of impersonal," he pauses then continues as if he is holding onto an illicit confession that he knows is wrong, "- and I feel like you could've given more money." Wow. I spent about $50 on this gift, and it still isn't enough for him. I'm speechless and disgusted. I should've just spent that money on my own parents, but I wanted to do something for his birthday. "I guess that I won't get you anything next time, then," I retort, and it sounds like a recycled conversation from my childhood, when I was eight years old and wanted the epitome of cool: a cell phone, as I thought that they represented the future. Justin sulks and I feel like taking all of his gifts back, which is what my parents did to me whenever I was ungrateful, but I won't.

Once we are on the highway, I look over towards Justin as I'm passing lanes to take the exit, and he is making an insidious, monstrous face at someone else as he flips the middle finger to them, for some reason, and they let me pass in front of them. "Justin, what are you doing?!" I scream. "That guy is tailgating us now, and what did you expect him to do?! Why did you do that?!" A lot of Maryland drivers are either the most passive aggressive and full of road rage people that you will ever meet in your whole life, or they drive like a slow, old grandmother. But, scarily enough, this guy falls in the first category. "Relax, Skye, I didn't do anything. I don't know why he is flashing his bright ass, janky lights at us and - " Justin responds nonchalantly, then he turns slightly to peer back, "... nearly HITTING US, OMG, SKYE, DO SOMETHING!" Justin is unbelievable, as he acts like nothing is his fault. The other driver keeps revving the engine to his old Subaru race car, and halting at about two inches away from my bumper, every single time.