Contraindication

Six| Pepperoni Pebbles

"Pizza is good medicine for disappointment."
— Katharine Howe

Too bad I'm not hungry enough to eat a pizza.

"Thanks for picking me up, Steve." I leaned back on the garbage bag he placed on his leather seat, "I own you one...Oh! I left my friend the car keys... he's a decent driver and should get it back in one piece." There was no confidence in my words. The last time I let Felix drive my car we ended up in a ditch. He was on an adrenaline high as he had never driven a car like the one Steve gave me. I should have noticed the red flags when he asked me where the sticker for reverse was.

Steve sighed and turned the steering wheel as frustration overwhelmed his kind looks. Getting a call from your girlfriend's daughter and being asked to leave work to pick her up, is something he didn't sign up for.

Yes, I needed to go home after that fiasco. My head was killing me and I couldn't show up to gym class looking like I killed just someone—or looking like someone attempted to kill me.

"You should have called your mother about this?" He glanced over at me, "having a nose bleed than getting your first period seems like a mother problem to me." He frowned and tipped down his large fancy sunglasses.

I made an inaudible noise as I watched other cars drive by. No, I didn't get my first period; that was just the best excuse I could make on the spot, and it was the best excuse that worked so far. Both that poor freshman and the school's nurse believed it—even Steve. I ruffled the garbage bag as I turned to face him, "For your information, I called her... she just didn't answer... not even after my 4th call." I looked away.

Steve stayed silent for a while. After he turned off the major road and into a side road he spoke, "your mother answers me on the first ring when I call?"

I held in my gasp as his sentence hit home, "that's because she cares more about her boyfriend than her daughter..." I leaned my head against the window, "I don't matter to her."

"That's not true—"

"Oh, it is..." I cut him off. "Could we please stop talking about this, I have a massive headache." I felt like I wanted to crawl up in a ball and cry—but I couldn't in Steve's fancy car. He already complained that I had blood on me, that's why I'm sitting on a garbage bag. He's probably also going to complain that his passenger door window now has a red imprint of my cheek.

"Is the headache from the nosebleed?" He inquired.

"Maybe?" I rolled my eyes, "or maybe it's from the higher doses of the pills you gave me?" I stated that just to throw him off. Steve may have been the only one to know about my little ability, but he doesn't have to know about my life.

Steve took a deep breath but said nothing until we turned into the driveway. I watched as he placed the car into park, but he didn't unlock my door. "I don't think it's the pills... it's never the pills, but I'll write that down."

I groaned and continued to look away.

"And as for your mom, I'll make sure to say something, if I'm not too distracted by her looks." He laughed to himself, then ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

His attitude was unbelievable, but that was classic Steve. At least he took some time out of his schedule to deal with me again. My mom would certainly thank him in ways I can't imagine.

The doors unlocked as he spoke once more. "Take it easy Evelyn, or at least try not to get hurt again. Maybe this is the last time your body heals?"

* *<%) * *

It was after 7 pm and I felt even worse. Where the bullet holes used to be, there was a pulsing ghost pain ripped. My leg would even give up on me once or twice while walking. But I guessed it was part of the recovery process.