Running Back To Him (2 page)

Chapter 3

My alarm rings from a faint hiss to an intense clattering; razzing my brain out of the coma-like slumber I’ve been in for what seems like five days, but really it’s been nine hours. I seize my phone and toss it against the closet door. The buzzing comes to a sudden halt.

It’s 5AM and this is my teenage life.

“Ugh,” I say, pulling the covers over my head, unable to plant my feet on my bedroom floor and begin the day. I can’t stay under here forever. I have to face things one way or another.

I slither out of bed with a feeling of a cinder block in the middle of my head. I sit on the edge of the bed and massage my temples, but the pain doesn’t subside.

I look at the clock on the wall and shake my head realizing how much my life changed since I started dating Lucas and hanging out with the three hell spawns that shall, from this point on, remain nameless. I only got up this early to get ready because the girls—I mean, bats from hell—and I would meet up at Starbucks for coffee and pastries and gossip.

I go over to my closet and my eyes comb over all the skirts, skinny jeans, and blouses I’ve bought since I started hanging out with Ash—
those
humans. I can’t even begin to say their names without flashing back to yesterday and a nauseating feeling coating my stomach.

To the right of my feet is a huge, black chest where I keep all my “old” clothes—the clothes that I stopped wearing the night I got a text from an unrecognizable number asking to hang out. It was Ashley and she wanted me to join her at the mall later that night. Earlier that week Lucas and I had officially became a couple, but little did I know that I’d become thrust into the limelight of high school celebdom. Whether I knew it or not—being with the most popular guy in school meant that I too, was popular.

Ashley, the most popular—and feared girl in school invited me into her clique with open arms. She was young, rich, and dangerous. She took me under her wing, showed me the ropes about what it takes to be in the inner circle. How to walk, how to dress, and do makeup. How to walk down the hallway with such a boldness that it would split stone and have every guy in school want to be with you and have every girl want to
be
you. I had been indoctrinated. The time had come to put away the Pokemon cards and put on a pair of stilettoes.

It was after that meeting I ditched the cherry red hair and large hoodies for my natural inky black hair and skinny jeans. She was grooming me like I was her special project. After the mall, that first night, Ashley brought me to her house and applied makeup on me like it was a secret blood sacrifice ceremony for the Illuminati.

I went from geek to chic or whatever those cheesy daytime talk shows called it. I went from sitting at a lunch table with my bestie Justine to the top of the hill with Ashley. And before I got with Lucas, I was invisible to Ashley. Funny how things change so quickly.

I open up the chest and look at the old hoodies and holey sweats, and my favorite, but beat up pair of Doc Marten’s that I always wore. To the left of them was an unopened box of red hair dye. It was my trademark. My throat tightens looking down at it and then I slam the chest shut.

Looking back it made perfect sense for it to end like this. The quirky, unique, loner girl who kept her nose in sci-fi novels, stumbles into a relationship with a star football player. I laugh at myself when the word quirky pops into my head. That’s just a cute way to describe yourself when you’re labeled by everyone else as weird.

And hours later, I’m back at my old lunch table, alone, dejected, confused. A woman with no country. Outcast from the popular crowd, but still too trendy for those that consider themselves just average or nerds. I guess this is how Ice Cube felt after he left N.W.A. At least he left on his own terms and didn’t get booted out of the group like me.

I hear footsteps close in on me from behind where I sit; the deep plodding from the rubber soles of a pair of suede Timberland boots. It can only be one person.

Justine Adams—my
other
bff.

Justine comes around and sits in front of me, off to my right. Her green eyes shoot me a cursory glance to acknowledge my sorry presence and proceeds to twist open a bottle of pink grapefruit seltzer water. She sips and closes her eyes, savoring the taste like she always does. She’s the only person who I can say in all honesty is quirkier than me. And that’s a pretty high level of quirk—even if I’ve learned to bury it or at least, only let it out when I’m alone.

I sigh and fold my leg on top of the other and watch Justine sip with her eyes closed a few more times.

My walnut-brown haired friend is enjoying this. She knew my little foray into the school’s upper echelon of status would be over before I learned how to properly walk in heels without breaking my ankle. She probably had been counting the days down.

She detests all that is popular at this school, which to me was always odd because she has the face of a prom queen and could steal the heart of a star athlete or resident school bad boy. But her tastes fancied towards the quiet boy who played tuba in the band or one of the boys on the chess team.

I clear my throat so she can at least begin to look at me in the eyes. She doesn’t. I guess it’s up to me to break the first crack in the levee.

“You know I never understood why you sip with your eyes closed,” I say breaching the wall of silence. Her money-green eyes finally connect with mine.

“And I still don’t understand why you don’t think Game of Thrones is any good,” she says her voice dry and brittle, no more than usual.

There’s a long pause between us; and then abrupt, raucous laughter. I sooo needed that. Whoever said laughter’s the best medicine was right.

“So you’re back slumming again?” she asks, biting into a green apple. “I thought I’d never see you again around these here parts.”

“I can’t forget my bff.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please.”

“Okay.” I fold my arms, finally brave enough to end the formalities and dig into the real matter at hand. “I got nobody else. You’re all I got.”

“I’m
all
you’ve ever had.” Her eyes fall down towards her lap. “Well…except for—”

“I…I get what you’re saying,” I say interjecting, preventing her from bringing up painful memories. “But I never really left.” Her lips purse and she shakes her head. “I’m still the same old Mags.”

“Don’t run game on me. Same ole Mags…bullshit.” She stabs her fork into a small Styrofoam bowl of green beans. “Yeah you turned in your red hair for red bottoms.” She turns and looks to her left to see Ashley walk out the cafeteria with her two gofers in tow. Ashley shoots lasers at me with her eyes. It makes my teeth click. “You’re lucky I didn’t desert you. I could have, you know. Plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“You never ignored me like I thought you would have. It’s a tough job, having new friends,” she says wrapping finger quotations around the word friends, “who the old friend hates with a passion. You always walked that tight rope.”

“I never stopped being your friend.”

“True. You just didn’t eat lunch with me anymore.”

“It’s like we have an open relationship. We still love each other, but we’re free to date anyone we choose.”

“Yeah, and I just happen to hate the new bitch you’re dating.”

We both chuckle. “The first day I starting sitting over there, I asked you if you wanted to join me and you said you’d rather wear a gasoline thong to a bonfire.”

“It’s true. No amount of Pepto Bismol could allow me to stomach being in their presence for more than five seconds. I don’t understand how you could do it…and for the amount you actually hung out with them. Price you pay for—”

I cut her off; I grab a plastic knife and point it between her eyes. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say I told you so.”

She takes another bite of her apple. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

“At least I didn’t keep you tucked away like some dirty little secret.”

“You mean like that crusty jerk-off sock tucked under my brother’s mattress?”

My face curls in disgust. “You know, if I was eating I’d be gagging right now.”

“I’m just saying. I appreciate you for still being best buds despite my hatred for the offspring of Rosemary’s baby.”

“Wow. That one was pretty good. Your one-liners of them keep getting harsher.” I take a green bean off her tray.

“You know, I gotta keep the comedic blade sharp. I should so do standup one day. I don’t have the balls for it though. I’d probably get tomatoes thrown at me.”

Though it feels good to be back at the lunch table of a genuine buddy, my vision strays back to the table where I
used
to sit.

“I’m taking you to the chiropractor after school,” she says snapping me out of my trance.

“What? Why?” I ask. Another weird, random question by Justine.

“Because if you keep looking over that way you’re going to get a wicked crook in your neck.”

“That obvious?”

“Darn right it’s obvious. You’re like a vampire, just bitten. Now that you’ve been sent back down to the minor leagues I’m waiting for you to fizzle away into glittery dust.”

We burst into sidesplitting amusement. Her hate of Twilight is unparalleled.

“Wow. A Twilight reference. This is serious business.”

“It is. How many boxes of tissues have you gone through?” I part my lips to respond, but she keeps on. “I heard all the rumors.” She twirls a thick lock of her hair around her index finger.

“I can’t believe he left me for that piece of crap.” I pause to think how ridiculous I sound.

“He’s an ogre who doesn’t recognize the jewel he had in you.” She shakes her head.

“Thanks,” I say meekly.

“So what’s your next move, Mags?” She reaches over to the table next to us and grabs a bunch of napkins and wipes them on my forearms. I lunge back.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused. Another quirk, probably. She always was as the germophobe type. She carries a Costo-sized bottle of hand sanitizer in her book bag. She reaches to wipe my cheek, but I pull away.

“I’m trying to…wipe away the sheen and stench of discomfort on your body.”

“The what?”

“You want to be back over there don’t you? I’m not judging you. It’s just like eating a Dorito and then someone snatching the bag away from you. That’s sacrilegious.”

“I don’t.” I fold my arms and look away from her…and from
that
table. “You really think I want to get back with Lucas after he threw me out like last year’s iphone? Pul-eeze. And I definitely don’t want to be friends with someone who sees me as beneath her.”

“I don’t know if you’re more hurt by Lucas breaking up with you or getting booted from the inner circle,” she says.” I bypass her eyes and fidget with the button on my jean jacket.

“I’m not sure either,” I say with a hanging head. “All my life I’ve been the outsider. Like standing on the sidewalk and peeking into the window of a house party and everybody in there is having an awesome time, but you can’t get in…they won’t
let
you in because you wear your hair a certain way or you like a certain type of music or you talk with a British accent when you tell stories. But they won’t let you in, no matter how cool you think you are. And then you luck up and you sneak around the back and get inside. And you’re the life of the party. They love you. And then the record scratches and you get kicked out. I was there. And I loved it.” I brush a curl behind my ear and my voice lowers. “Even if people think it’s flimsy or phony, I belonged. I finally belonged.” I point to my heart. “I finally had an identity. I was somebody.” I pause and look up at the ceiling; flashbacks of being VIP at keg parties at Ashley’s parent’s house on the lake give me a rush. “I don’t want go back to what I…was.” She places her hand on top of mine and strokes it lightly.

Justine clears her throat to break up the lather of tension that’s present.

“As your best friend for over ten years I can say that’s the most shallow thing I’ve ever heard.” She snickers. “
And
as your bff I know exactly how to help you.”

Her face curls with a mischievous smile. It’s kind of frightening how well she wears it.

“You need a rebound,” she says. “They say the best way to get over a boy is to get under a new one.”

“I’m not jumping right into another relationship,” I say. “My heart can’t take another.”

“I’m not talking about a relationship. Just a fling. A hookup. A jumpoff. A—”

“I get it,” I say contesting, pressing my palms out towards her.

“So, the most popular guy in school dumped you. Just get with the other popular boy in school.” The bell rings and after a collective moan, students slither out of the cafeteria.

“You’re out of your natural mind.”

She stands up and dumps the contents of her tray into the garbage while I stay planted into my seat. I wait for the herd of students to leave; I can’t bear to walk the halls full of stares and hisses.

“Hear me out,” she says kissing me on the cheek. “A no holds barred, no strings attached hookup will get your name out of the dumps and ringing bells in no time.”