by Emery Skye
"What happened to you? Ever since you got back, you’ve been acting cold and distant. You’ve even been short with Caity." He's silent. "I want my friend back, not this guy who raises his voice, slams his fist against tables and orders people around like he owns them. That's not you." I gesture at the table. "This is not you!"
A look of pain embeds itself deep in Pierce's otherwise angelic features.
" I have been wanting to ask...or tell...or well, talk to you about something for a long time."
I open my mouth to object but he reaches across the table and puts a hand up.
"No, don't say anything or else I will lose my nerve."
My mouth is too dry to say anything anyway. He inhales deeply through his nose; I sense the word-vomit coming. "Lexi..."
The stomach pains worsen, they are too extreme to ignore any longer. "Oww," I bear down and groan in agony.
My arms wrap around my midsection.
"Lexi, what is it?" Pierce leans toward me in concern. His hands extend forward until they rest on shoulders.
Every muscle in my body seizes up and my breathing becomes increasingly labored. "I need to get outside," I manage to squeal. I swallow hard in a meager attempt to avoid throwing up right here in Saxy's.
Pierce squeezes my shoulders and then releases them.
"Of course." Pierce is at my side in a second. He throws one of my arms over his shoulders and wraps his arm around my waist. "We'll get you out of here. Hang on," he whispers calmly into my ear.
I bite my tongue in pain and coppery bitterness explodes in my mouth. For a brief second, the blood distracts me, but not long enough.
“Breathe, Lexi,” Pierce whispers.
I try. Oxygen seems to fuel the fire in chest.
My legs are heavy and I stumble into a young guy.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Watch it,” he bites.
Pierce shoves the man away. The guy falls to the ground on his butt in a “hmmphf”.
Baffled faces and incredulous stares from Saxy's patrons surround us.
Once outside, we're greeted by rawness in the air. The sky is silky and dark. He guides me to the south side of the building in the direction of his truck, but I shake my head and stop in my tracks. The nausea worsens quickly. My stomach muscles flip every direction.
"Can't make it," I whimper.
"K," he turns us around and we trudge down the small alleyway. Every step takes more energy and magnifies the pain. The cold slices through my coat.
I heave over. Under other circumstances, I would be extremely embarrassed, but I can't bring myself to think about anything other than the pain.
"Breathe, Lexi." Pierce's voice soothes a small part of me, but it does nothing to relieve the stomach pain.
"I can't," I cry out. My ribs can’t take the building pressure. It’s like they're about to snap outward, my stomach muscles churn, my whole body convulses.
"Yes, you can," he objects.
Starbursts form in my vision and swell rapidly. I fall to my knees and simultaneously a ringing explodes in my ears.
"Hang... in... there," I can hear bits and pieces of Pierce’s voice. I don't understand why he isn't calling an ambulance. I've never felt physical pain like this.
I keel over to the side and hit the asphalt. My teeth clatter as I collide with the ground. A distant scream fills the air. I don't think it belongs to me, but I can't be sure. I strain my eyes, willing them to focus. It's useless.
I hear a crash. It sounds like someone's been thrown into a steel dumpster.
I'm able to make out the silhouettes of two equally tall figures, but the harder I strain, the louder the ringing.
"She's mine!" are the last words I hear. Then, I feel the sensation of being lifted and someone's arms wrap tightly around me before a tenebrous blanket wraps me into blackness.
FIFTEEN
Oooy. My head throbs. I swing my arm and smack a bottle of water off my end table. My eyes focus on the four Advil sitting near where the bottle used to be. A piece of paper is folded neatly underneath them.
"You were out late," someone says.
"Holy shit," I flip over, and a brief bout of nausea sweeps over me. "Who the hell are you?"
"Beth," she says, while putting on a watch. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with her hands in the prayer position.
She walks to the other side of my bed.
I scooch away. She picks up the water and hands it to me. After a moment of hestitation, I take the bottle.
Beth has crazy, brown, curly hair and an odd taste in clothes. She's a petite girl wearing skinny blue jeans and a red oblong shirt with some pyramid design on the front.
"Umm.... That's nice." I grit my teeth, trying to retain some semblance of composure. The muscles in my neck tense. "This is my room." I sit up slowly. "Special emphasis on 'my'."
She flops herself on the bed and her curly hair, which is pulled back messily into a ponytail, bounces high into the air. She opens her mouth.
Please don't say you're my new roommate.
Please don't say you're my new roommate.
Please don't say that.
Please.
"I'm your new roommate." Shit.
She smiles, showing off big, white teeth. Falling into a sack of potatoes on the bed, she reaches for a magazine and flips the page.
“Equine Now,” I muse.
“Yep,” she answers.
Good taste in magazines, at least.
"Are you a transfer?" I ask.
"In a way,” she replies. She’s still nose-deep in the glossy pages. “I was at a sister school and the equestrian team here recruited me," she explains, giddy. Her energy is palpable.
"That's nice." I know my attitude won't get me far with this girl. She seems like the type to crush negativity with giggling. "How old are you?" I take a big gulp of my water.
"Sixteen. Ugh,” she shuts the magazine. “I totally had that comp.”
“What?” I ask.
Beth grunts. “Have you ever heard of this Cayla chick? She has a super awesome horse, but she’s like one of the world’s worst people.”
I chuckle. The splitting pain in my head worsens.
“I’ve heard of her. Sorry, my head feels like World War III happened inside of it." I sit all the way up.
"Yeah, you got in kind of late." She gives a sort of lopsided, toothy grin.
"Yeah, about that..." I don't want to come off like I don't know, but really want some information. "What exactly did you see?"
Beth pulls down the curls of her hair and they bounce back up. Her big, green eyes are so honest and equally telling. Her eyes remind me of Caity’s, only darker.
"I didn't see much." Oh, great. She must think that I'm going to get mad if she did see something.
"No, seriously, I'm just wondering." The throbbing and stomach pains intensify, so I toss two of the Advil back. "Hey, thanks for the water and stuff. I really appreciate it."
"Oh, I didn't put it there," she smiles.
"Oh, no?" I rub my hands together.
"Nope. That cute boy did." Cute boy. Oh, Pierce. He must have brought me home at some point.
"Oh, yeah."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"Um...nope. He's not my boyfriend."
"Oh."
"He's a friend," I inform her.
"Oh," her voice perks back up.
"A really good friend." I look at the clock. It’s time for breakfast. "Um...I hate to be a lousy roommate, but do you know how to get to the dining hall? I'm not feeling much like breakfast and I'm running late as it is."
"Oh, no problem." She sounds only mildly disappointed, but she also seems like the type of girl who gets along all right. "I walked around last night and figured out where everything was." She smiles again and jumps down off the bed.
"I have a friend like that," I grin. So far, Beth is all right: she likes horses and minds her own business. If I must have a roommate, she seems okay. We'll s
ee how long she lasts.
"Oh, hey…"
She turns around before walking outside, "Yeah?"
"Umm...there will be a few girls...blondes...typical Barbies," I stutter. "If I were you, I would steer clear of them." I don’t mention that one of them is probably the same Cayla she already dislikes, but I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough.
"Believe me. I know the type and I think I ran into bitch and bitchier yesterday at the dining hall. I don't think any school would be a school without those type of girls."
We smile at one another.
"See ya' at lunch, Beth."
The note on my bedside mocks me. To read or not? Well, of course I'm going to read it.
I grab the piece of paper. Lexi, it reads on top. Well, of course it's to me. Not typical Pierce handwriting. I unfold it slowly and cautiously like it's the duct tape covering someone's mouth.
Lexi,
I know you are probably waking up with plenty of questions this morning.
While in town, I found you in the alleyway. You were passed out and there was no one to help you. I brought you back home and put you in bed. Beth, your new roommate, is the one who put you in your pj's. I tried to help her, but she rather aggressively removed me from the room.
Hunter
Pj's, holy shit, I look under the comforter and realize I am in pj's. How could Beth have conveniently forgotten to tell me that she changed me like a baby? That doesn't seem like information one would forget to mention.
Passed out.
Alone.
What the hell!
Yeah, if I didn't have a million questions before, I sure do now. I know I went to Saxy's with Pierce. He left me? Alone? That doesn't sound like something Pierce would do. Not at all.
SIXTEEN
"Lexi, is there something better going on under your desk that I should know about?" Ms. Gosselin questions annoyingly.
"Um... no," I stutter.
She shakes her head and turns toward the board where she writes the storyline for one of the Bronte sisters’ classics, Wuthering Heights. I begrudgingly put my cell away, even though I am in the middle of an important text message to Pierce. I am worried about him, but also pissed at him. It's not like Pierce to run away from something or to leave me behind.
My heart aches in betrayal.
The students seem oblivious to the wind that ominously howls outside. The pointed edges of the desks appear more jagged today and the colors more vibrant. I take two more Advil and fan my face with a blank piece of paper. I'm chilled to the bone, but my face burns.
"Wuthering Heights," Ms. Gosselin begins flatly, "...is a classic novel about love..."
"Alexis!" Ms. Gosselin barks, making her frail frame lift and my bones jump.
"Yes," I mutter.
"How nice of you to join us." She flicks her marker angrily in my direction; I’m grateful it's not a knife, and that I'm in a public place.
If she had my night, she would be struggling too.
Days ago, I wanted nothing more than to be no one living in nowhere land and now, I can't even think straight long enough to know what I want.
"We were discussing whether you would prefer Edgar or Heathcliff's approach to love."
I nod slowly, prompting her to continue. That didn't sound like a question to me.
"Well?"
I consider this. "I don't know." I only know that I hear women say how much they want a man to support them.
"Try again, Lexi."
Ugh. "I would want someone who knows what they want, who's willing to go to any length to get it but wouldn't be so weak as to become consumed by that desire. I think that's foolishness."
Someone mutters, "Huh?" I turn and find the culprit is Hunter. He's staring perceptively at me with his crystalline eyes. How had I totally missed him being in the class?
"Ah, yes..." Seeming that I answered the question satisfactorily, I decide to tune out and look to my phone.
"Lexi, I believe that was a question for you?"
I tip my head up. "What?"
Hunter asks, "You think Heathcliff’s weak for wanting Catherine so intensely?" he raises a curious eyebrow.
"No, I think Heathcliff’s a fool for ever loving Catherine."
"You think he could control who he loved?"
"He never should have let himself love her and vice versa. It's that simple. Hell, their love, the destructiveness of a love that never changes, is the foundation for the pain and misery in the novel."
Hunter opens his mouth to say something, but Ms. Gosselin cuts him off when she says, "Interesting. One of the more cynical perspectives."
Hunter squints his eyes as if reading the small print on a sign a hundred miles away.
"There's nothing simple about love, Lex," he says as things quiet down, but I don't turn around to argue with him. He's right about that. There's nothing simple about love, other than the fact that it causes pain.
No new text messages. What the hell?
We need to talk ASAP!
Text me back!
I hit send and hope Pierce will get back to me.
The class bell rings.
Ms. Gosselin says, “Lexi, a moment please.”
I sigh.
“Yes.”
The remaining students walk by.
“There’s an essay due today. Do you have it?” she asks. Her frown tells me she knows I don’t.
“I,” I stutter.
Hunter interrupts, “You told Lexi she didn’t have to do the assignment.”
Hunter’s blue eyes simmer.
Ms. Gosselin leans away, her hand clutches her chest, outraged, “I did no such…”
“You did,” his voice deepens. “Remember now?”
Ms. Gosselin’s eyes glaze over. “That’s right. Now I remember.”
I am struck by intense stomach pain that makes me want to curl into the fetal position.
Hunter takes my hand in his and leads me out of the room.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“What just happened?” I ask him.
I try to flex my stomach muscles and, man, that's a bad decision. Sharp pains rocket up through my chest and ricochet off my back.
I clench my eyes shut. Maybe if I focus on the stars, the pain will desist. Hunter fades away.
SEVENTEEN
I mindlessly attend classes. Hunter sits next to me in all of them. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a couple, but he’s still there. He didn’t listen when I told him I was fine. l
I’m worried about Pierce, but there’s nothing that worrying will accomplish.
I’ve sent dozens of messages to both him and Caity.
Hunter tells me he’ll see me after lunch. I wave him off. The pain from earlier left me exhausted.
When I arrive at the Dining Hall, I am surprised to see that my usual table is vacant... no Pierce, no Caity, no one at all.
Not seeing reason to stick around, I grab a few apples and water, and decide my time will be better spent at the stables.
The sun beats down on me every step of the way. It's amazing how sunny and warm it feels when there are mounds of snow laying across the ground.
It's stifling in my puffy Carhartt as I strut through the gate. The memory of Hunter's mountain goat moves pops up; I still don’t understand how he did it.
I continue into the indoor arena. I welcome the rank smell of manure. No matter how nice the stables are, there is always that definitive smell of horse and dirt that can’t be avoided.
The clatter of hooves shuffling through the dirt greets me as I enter the arena. I see familiar brown, curly hair bouncing up and down: Beth. She's riding Memphis. He's a new, sorrel thoroughbred.
"Hey, you're supposed to wear a helmet if you're under eighteen!" barks an old, gruffly voice.
"I’m sorry," Beth stammers.
The old man grunts a few inaudible things under his breath. The stable-hand is sort of like an undertaker- not someone I see often and usually an unruly ch
aracter when we unfortunately cross paths.
"Hey, Beth. There's a helmet over here," I call out and point to the left of me.
"Thanks." She trots the gelding over.
"No problem," I reach the helmet over the side rail to her. "You know, if you tell him you’re eighteen, he'll usually leave ya’ alone," I explain.
"Good to know. Thanks," she takes the helmet and straps it on. "Lemme guess, you've tried that one?" She adjusts the strap.
"Uh, not really. I don't ride."
Beth blinks. One thick, brown eyebrow rises high. "Scholarship kid. I just observe." I add, hoping to clear up the confusion.
"I thought you had to have killer experience to get in with this stable."
"Well, yeah. I guess I have experience."
Memphis paws at the wall.
"What about you? You're the equestrian scholarship kid." I reach my arm over the edge and stroke Memphis' neck. He leans into the wall.
"Yeah, I could never live without horses."
"I know what you mean," I agree.
Beth reminds me of me, back before my parents were murdered.
Beth’s nose wrinkles. She blurts, "You used to ride in the Grand Prix division." My eyes widen and she adds, "Didn't you?" She seems excited by her discovery. In two seconds flat, I weave together a few lies that I know are convincing, but watching her look at me with hopeful, beady, green eyes I know I can't lie to her.
"That was a long time ago." I’m fretting she’ll push this.
"Aw...I knew it!" She tips her chin up, pleased with herself.
"Why are you a stable-hand? Umm... you could definitely be a trainer here, or at least a ride."
I can't help but smile. It's endearing. If only things were that simple. She's a lot like Caity. Both are sweet, kind, a little naïve. Only, Beth is darker than Caity: hair, skin, eyes...
"Not for me."
"Oh my God... You were injured, weren't you? I knew it."
"Yeah," I mimic her telling tone. I was injured, just not in the way she thinks.
She cocks her neck and peers down at me, examining. I'm sure she's trying to find out what's wrong with me. It's nothing she can see.
"I guess I should be done." She jumps down and flops the reins off Memphis' neck. "He was a really good boy. I wish I had a cookie for him."