BF 2nd edition

by Isabel Curtis

  "Wow. You actually came," said Allyson, as the three of them stopped to greet Hayden. "You're not exactly dressed for the occasion..." pointed out Kristina.

  "I didn't exactly have time to think about my clothing today," she said in a gibe-like tone. If she were to classify them according to an antipathy scale, Kristina was definitely at the top.

  "You're not gonna hit on anyone dressed like that," Ashley joked.

  "At least I'm not freezing my ass off," she replied with an edge.

  "Why did you come?" Allyson asked, looking at her straight in the eye.

  "I think you already know the answer," she said, glancing back at her.

  "Great," Allyson replied, with a big satisfied smile. "But seriously, you can't go inside dressed like that."

  "Why? Jeans, t-shirt, and a jacket never hurt anyone."

  "Yeah, but see...We've got a reputation, and if you wanna hang out with us, you gotta dress like us, talk like us and behave like us," she said, while taking a black mini-dress out from her purse. "Here, you can change in the bathroom." Hayden took it, and followed them inside the club.

  Obviously, there was no waiting-in- line for them. A nod at the bodyguard by the entrance was enough to let them in. Once inside, Hayden felt like she had been thrown into a completely different world. The colorful lights, the smell, the music, the smoke, the crowd... an atmosphere she had never seen before. The music was so loud that they had to communicate by hand gestures. Allyson pointed at the bathroom, so Hayden could get changed; and so she did. With that sexy outfit she didn't feel herself at all, but that's exactly what she had been expecting from that night: to forget who she was, and shut reason out. The small cuts on her arm were visible, but easily unnoticeable.

  When she walked out from the bathroom, all eyes were on her. Stoned guys were following her around, like they had never seen a woman before. Kristina was already all over a guy, who she had probably never even seen before, and whose name she was never gonna know either, while Allyson and Ashley seemed to have completely different plans for the night: alcohol and weed were lying everywhere on a small round table secluded from the rest of the club, and Hayden was the guest of honor.

  She hesitated a moment before accepting their invitation to drink her cocktail, taking a moment to really look at them. They were hot, they had money, and respect. No worries, no pain. She wanted all of that. Hayden had fallen in love with that new world in an instant, not because it was beautiful or magical, but rather because she felt like she didn't belong there and was never going to. Is there anything more appealing to human nature than what it shouldn't have?

  Three drinks and five joints later, Hayden couldn't even walk on her own. She laughed for no reason along with her new friends and some boys who had joined their private party uninvited. Their hands were everywhere, taking advantage of the girls' inability to understand and react. Just as one of them was about to insert his hand under Hayden's skirt, someone pulled him away and punched him in the face.

  Jesse J. - who was used to spending his nights at discos - had seen Hayden from far away and realized she was completely stoned. "I'm gonna kill you, man!" the guy on the floor yelled at Jesse J., who was already holding Hayden up and walking away with her, leaving the other girls and spectators amused by the scene. Obviously, they were laughing.

  "You leave her alone!" Jesse J. yelled back, not sure the guy had heard him over the loud music.

  "Whatcha doing, J.?" Hayden tried to ask, but her speaking abilities weren't really working.

  "I'm taking you home, kid, your brothers are worried sick," he said, as they walked outside the club from the back door.

  "I don't wanna go," she said, drunk. "We were just havin' a good time."

  "Yeah, I'm sure you were," he said with an edge, while dialing a number on his phone "Just sit here for a second," he told her, while giving her his coat. She had left all her stuff inside, except for her mother's pendant - which she never took off.

  "What the hell did they put in your drink?" he asked, without expecting an answer.

  "You're such a party pooper," she said ignoring his rhetorical question, while resting her head on the wall. "Party pooper!" she repeated, pointing at him, and starting laughing on her own.

  "Yo, bro, I found her." Jesse J. was on the phone with James.

  "Is she okay?" he asked. It took a moment for Jesse J. to answer.

  "Define okay."

  "Where are you?"

  "At the Beach, and I think there's probably a guy who wants to beat me up so how 'bout some back up?" On normal nights, he would have handled things by himself, but having to fight off a few stoned guys while looking out for Hayden was not something he could manage.

  "We'll be there in five." When he ended the call he turned to look at Hayden, who had somehow managed to find a half-empty beer bottle abandoned on the sidewalk and was drinking from it.

  "Hayden, what the fuck?!" he yelled while snatching the bottle from her.

  "Hey, give it back!" she shouted with not too much emphasis. "It's mine, I found it first!"

  It took only five minutes for the gang to get there, and five whole minutes for the drunk guys to find Jesse J. at the rear of the disco. The first ones were in a hurry, and the latter ones were probably too stoned to figure out that there was a secondary exit.

  "Hey, you punk!" the drunk guy was calling out to Jesse J. "Come here! I'm gonna kick your ass!" he kept shouting, as the four of them approached.

  In that instant, Hayden's brothers got out of their car, followed by George, Alex and Nick who had been warned about the messy night that was taking place. "George, you take Hayden home," James ordered, throwing the house keys at him "She'd better not be here if the cops arrive."

  "Got it!" George said, as he tried to help Hayden into the passenger seat. "What's going on?" Hayden asked, more unconscious than conscious.

  "Nothing, we're just going home," George said, as he closed the car door and started the engine.

  "You called your little friends, uh?" The drunk guys were making fun of Jesse J.

  "How about you just leave now?" James said. "That dickhead stole my girl, and he punched me," the guy said, "I ain't goin' nowhere."

  "Your girl?" James asked, trying to calm down. "Yeah, that little drunk bitch. It weren't for him, I'd probably be fucking her in the bathroom right now," he said, and his friends started laughing. That's when James lost it completely and punched him right in the face. The guy was caught off guard, and he was too drunk to get back up and fight back. One of his friends took out a switchblade, waiting for the fool who'd attack him. But no one made a move.

  "James, keep it cool," his brother Will told him. This fight was getting serious.

  "That 'bitch' is my little sister, and she's sixteen. Want me to call the cops and have you arrested for fucking an underage?"

  "I didn't fuck her!" the guy said, still lying on the ground, visibly in pain for that second punch of the night, right in the face. His nose was bleeding.

  "And you think they're gonna believe you? She was drunk and incapable of reacting. Plus you're stoned and going around looking for trouble – look at him," he said, nodding at the guy with the weapon. "Carrying a switchblade! The cops will love it. How about I call 911, uh?" he said, taking his phone out.

  "Okay, dude, come on! We're leaving," the guy said, trying to get up. "Ronald, put the fucking blade away."

  "Smart move," James said. "Now leave, idiots." "Let's go, guys," Ronald said, as he helped his friend up; and then they all left without saying another word.

  The street was soon quiet again.

  TEN

  Where is she?" James asked George as he walked inside the house, followed by his brothers and Alex. The rest of the gang had gone home.

  "Still in the bathroom," said George, as the sound of Hayden throwing up filled the silence.

  "Puking," he confirmed.

  "I swear I'm gonna kill her," Jam
es said nervously, as he headed to the bathroom.

  "Give her a break," Mike told him, blocking his way. "We've had enough drama for tonight. Go to bed, brother."

  The two of them stood still for a moment, just looking at each other. They were very alike, well-built and strong, same height and blue eyes, yet they had always taken antithetical positions in life; and tonight was no different. Will was worried they might start fighting too, but exhaustion took over James, who simply nodded at his brother, and sat down on the couch.

  "What a mess!" said George, sitting next to James. "Tell me about it," he replied, toneless, while resting his head on the backrest, eyes closed.

  "You guys should go home," he said turning to Alex and George, after a moment of silence.

  "Yeah...okay. You get some rest," George said, patting him on the back and heading to door.

  "'Night," Alex said, while walking out. Once the two brothers were gone, the Wilson siblings were left alone to deal with their troubles. Will entered the bathroom to check on Hayden, who, in the meantime, had fallen asleep on the floor.

  "Gosh, Hayden..." he whispered, as he took her in his arms and brought her to her bedroom. He tucked her in bed, and closed the door. She was the living proof of how you can start losing yourself in a thousand ways while still having something to hold on to. She was playing hangman with her own life, unaware that each move meant one step closer to game over. She was running out of guesses, and she didn't seem to care. You make your own odds sometimes.

  When she woke up the next morning, her head was a mess, but nothing compared to her life. She realized she was still wearing Allyson's dress, and partially fogged memories reminded her of the past night.

  "He's gonna kill me," she said to herself, imaging James's reaction to her stunt. After having changed clothes and put some music on she went to the kitchen to grab something to eat, convinced that her brothers were not home.

  "Is this how you plan on solving your problems?" Hearing James's voice from behind startled her. He had walked inside the kitchen and had thrown the cocaine sachet on the table. He was very mad.

  "I don't use that stuff," she whispered.

  "And you expect me to believe that?" he said, raising his voice. "After last night?"

  "Can you stop yelling? My head hurts."

  "No I can't! Look at you. Getting stoned and drunk and almost raped. Mom and Dad would so proud of you, Hayden." His mocking tone irritated her.

  "Oh fuck you, James. I assume they'd be proud of you, right?"

  "At least I'm not throwing my life away like you are doing!" Will and Mike walked inside.

  "Why is no one at work today?" she yelled.

  "Oh maybe 'cause we were all forced to take a day off considering the fucked up night you put us through? Or maybe 'cause we were worried about you and felt like staying home? Or how about this: we don't need money and can afford unpaid leaves." His sarcastic tone was too much for Hayden.

  "I didn't ask you to come pick me up, and I don't want anyone to worry about me, so fuck off!" she shouted as she grabbed her half- ready sandwich and went back to her room before anyone could have the time to reply.

  "I thought I told you to give her a break," Mike told him.

  "She doesn't need a break, she needs to get back on track."

  "And this is how you plan on helping her out?"

  "I have no freakin' plan! But if you have one, go ahead, lil' bro. I'm all ears. Otherwise I suggest you keep your mouth shout 'cause I'm fucking tired of everyone telling what not do to, without having the slightest idea of what should be done."

  Her brothers had started to argue, but while her world was falling apart all Hayden did was turn the music up even louder, a headache was a price she was willing to pay to silence the yelling.

  After that day, it was just pure isolation. There was a sort of invisible line between herself and the rest of the world. Distance was the key word: same attitude towards everyone, just in case someone felt like getting any closer. Music and books were her food, cutting her oxygen.

  March 11th

  Dear Diary,

  How many trials and errors are we allowed in this life, before being labeled as useless?

  They hate me, and I can't blame them. I hate myself too. I keep waking up alone and having dinner alone and going to bed alone, yet in a crowded house. We haven't spoken in such a long time, I can't even remember who's wrong. James hates me beyond repair, he won't talk to me at all. I don't think we'll ever speak again.

  The only people I have left are Allyson, Ashley and Kristina... they seem to understand. I spend lunch break with them basically every day, so I guess I'm not completely alone. I'm not sure they're true friends, but I hold on to them to avoid drowning. A few days ago they asked me for a favor: I had to deliver a package to some guy after school. I have no idea what was inside it, but it was something important. I think it was a big deal for them... trusting me with something like this. I guess they are really trying to make feel part of the group.

  I started cutting a while ago, I don't how that happened... it just did. Everything that's been going on in my life seems to be totally outside of my control, yet it happens and I go with the flow. I have no control over this life, but I am still in control of my body. I get no saying, no deciding about what comes next, but when I cut it's like affirming I can still choose something and I choose pain.

  I've read about this stuff online, they call it self-harming but I don't think I need help. I can quit whenever I want, I'm not sick. Besides, why should I stop doing something that makes me feel

  better?

  It helps a lot, whenever I feel sad or overwhelmed or angry I cut and it relaxes me. I don't see nothing wrong in that, I don't hurt anyone. But I have to be careful and wear long sleeves 'cause they'd start asking and worrying and I don't want that.

  I don't need help.

  Don't lend me a hand, I'll break its twenty-seven bones.

  H.

  March 12th

  Live update: my brothers and I are watching TV. Same channel, different rooms.

  ELEVEN

  Mrs Ryle put on Hayden's desk her biology test from the previous week: a big and circled red 'D' stood out from the corner of the first page, but Hayden didn't seem to be bothered by it. Her test results this week had all been averaging between a C- and an F.

  "You can do better, Hayden," her teacher told her, before resuming her walk around the classroom desks.

  "Whatever," she whispered, and Mrs Ryle pretended not to hear. Hayden had been causing trouble in all her classes, and the teachers had no idea how to handle her. It's not that there weren't bad students and troublemakers in that public school, as matter of fact there were plenty. Many students were part of gangs and spent their school hours just behaving like they were on the streets or like they didn't care at all that people like teachers and principals had to be respected in some way. They talked dirty regardless of whom they spoke with. It wasn't an easy job, teaching there, but they had gotten used to that: teachers just did their job, the rest was up to the police or social workers. But Hayden was a challenge to everyone. She has always been a good student, polite and nice, she came from a good family, and was well-mannered. But she changed all of a sudden and that is not something you see every day.

  Helplessly watching her decline was all they could do.

  ****

  March 13th

  Dear Diary,

  I'm sitting in the cafeteria. In a corner. I watch my classmates, people I've always seen yet probably never noticed. I wonder what they are going through, are their lives as bad as mine? I'm even trying to picture all of us 10 years from now. When we'll meet again during our high-school reunion, if we ever even bother organizing one. Who will be the single mom who got pregnant way too early? Who'll be the one not-so-happily married? Who'll be the one buried in a graveyard? Will Jack realize his dream of being a rock star, or will he end up miserable? And I'm not even sur
e they're mutually exclusive...

  Then I wonder about me. I wonder where I'll be in two days, let alone a decade. I have a feeling I'll be the one who won't make to the reunion.

  H.

  ****

  "Gotta cigarette?" Hayden asked Allyson as they were outside the school waiting for Ashley and Kristina. Another school day was over, and smoking was the first thing she had been doing every afternoon since the Beach's disastrous night. She didn't have money to buy a pack of her own, so she stole a few from her brothers when they weren't looking, and took advantage of her new girlfriends' never-ending provisions: where their cigarettes came from, she didn't bother asking, nor did she care to know. Even though she was about to find out.

  "When are you gonna get your own packs?" Allyson asked her, as she handed her a cigarette. "Whenever I have the money to buy 'em," she replied, while lighting the cigarette up.

  "Who said anything about buying?" Allyson asked, in a provocative tone.

  Before Hayden could reply, Marika hesitantly approached the two girls. "Hey, Hayden, can I talk to you?" she asked, keeping some distance to avoid being too close to Allyson and the two other girls who were now about to join them.

  "Sure! What's up?" Hayden said, while walking towards her.

  "Where are you going?" Kristina asked Hayden, from behind.

  "Going to talk to her," she said in an obvious tone, turning around. "I'll be right back."

  "You can't talk to her," stepped in Ashley. "You're one of us now, and we don't talk to people like her." Marika and Hayden had known each other since forever, and had been going to the same school and class since kindergarten. They had been close friends in the past, why did she have to ignore her now?