I spend the rest of the day cleaning out my room. By the time I’m finished, hardly anything is left in there, but I like it, like the promise of a new start. I just don’t know what that new start is yet.
It’s nearing eight o’clock when I finally wander out of my room to get some dinner, finding the kitchen strangely empty.
Apparently, Loki isn’t home yet.
The door to my twin sister’s bedroom is open as I pass by it, and I see her sitting on her bed, just staring off into space, which is strange for her. Usually, she’s busying herself with chores, homework, and other do-gooder stuff.
While we’re not identical, we used to look similar, except for her hair is shorter than mine and has more wave to it. Her white top and pink shorts get-up would have been something I borrowed. Now pink … bright colors … that’s not who I am anymore. Just like I’m not the kind of person who talks to their twin sister twenty-four seven anymore.
I have every intention of strolling by her room without saying a word, but then I remember how she texted me yesterday, about how she needed to tell me something.
Part of me doesn’t want to care, and maybe if she didn’t look so stressed out right now, I might have just walked by without uttering a word, be the I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anything Alexis I’ve become so good at being. But the worry in her expression causes me to pause in the doorway. I’m going to blame the move on Loki’s little speech last night.
I need you to start caring again.
“Hey,” I say to her while leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.
She blinks at me. “Oh, hey.” That’s all she says, which wouldn’t be that strange, except Zhara is the kind of person who can chatter someone’s ear off. At least when she’s around someone she knows.
“Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously, which might be the nicest thing I’ve said in a while.
She nods then puts on that fake smile I know she wears sometimes when she’s trying to lie. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”
Why is she lying?
“You texted me yesterday that you needed to tell me something.”
Her brows dip before recognition clicks. Then anxiety creeps across her face. “Oh, I didn’t mean to send you that,” she babbles in a rush. “I mean, I did, but what I needed to tell you wasn’t important and now it’s changed, so …” She shrugs. “Sorry for bugging you. I know how much you hate it when I do that.”
Seriously, what the actual hell?
“Dude, are you sure you’re okay?” I double-check, eyeing her over. She’s acting twitchy and completely unlike herself. Usually, she’s more put together.
She bobs her head up and down then stands up and crosses her room that is so pink and glittery that it looks like a faerie vomited all over everything. “Yeah, I’m fine. I need to work on some homework, though, so …” She gestures for me to move as she reaches to shut the door.
She’s dismissing me? Zhara, the girl who can’t even tell anyone no, is dismissing me?
“Um … Okay.” I step back, feeling completely out of my element and completely out of control of the situation.
See? This is why you don’t care about stuff.
Still, despite my thoughts, I find myself saying, “Well, if you need to talk, I’ll be in my room. Probably for a while after the trouble I got into yesterday.”
This would usually be when she starts pressing for details about what I did, which would lead to her lecturing me—that’s how it’s always been in the past, even before our parents died—so flags start popping up everywhere when all she does is nod and shut the door. Moments later, music starts playing from the other side.
I turn and head for my room, scratching my head and trying to figure out what in the hell my twin is lying about. I end up passing by my youngest brother’s door on my way. It’s shut and music is on.
What is this? Teenager Angstville?
Is this how things always are around here? It’s been a while since I stayed home for an entire day, so I’m not sure. If so, then no wonder Loki is losing his damn mind. Between my crap and our house turning into Angstville, he probably doesn’t have a single drop of fun anymore.
Moving farther down the hallway, I wander into my room and close the door, resisting the urge to turn on some music. Then I stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell to do with all this time on my hands.
I painted the ceiling black the day after my parents died, along with the walls, after I got way too stoned. Loki wasn’t happy, but it made me feel better, the darkness matching how I felt inside. After that, I stopped painting completely until one day when I was walking home from school.
Some a-hole had written CORPSE GIRL. EVEN YOUR SKIN FEELS LIKE ICE on my locker in marker. While I didn’t have proof, I’m pretty sure it was Jay, even though he had backed off for the most part. But he’s the only guy who’s ever touched me, and the skin-feels-like-ice comment … it struck a nerve deeply embedded into my soul. Luckily, he was stupid and used washable marker, so it wiped right off. But enough people saw it, and I spent the day feeling like I was lying on that bathroom floor all over again.
I was a hot mess of anger and angst, so I ended up getting into a fight with some random person. Knowing I was going to probably get suspended, I then took off and started walking all over town to avoid going home. As my anger built, I longed for a canvas and a paint set so I could pour out my emotions like I used to. But just thinking about painting, of being that girl from Before, made that agony twist inside me, and I almost started to cry.
That’s when I passed a wall covered with graffiti, and a spray paint can just happened to be nearby. Call it fate, maybe something darker, but I found myself picking up the can and staining the wall with my soul.
After that, I felt better, calmer, emptier. And that’s when my habit started.
And now it’s gone, just like everything else. Unless I want to be responsible for my family becoming even more broken.
Part of me wishes I could be that person, the one who doesn’t care about anything enough to just let that happen. I thought I was that person, but after the last couple of days, I don’t know if I am, especially since the idea of being the cause behind my brother and sister getting taken away is what has kept me in the house and my hands away from spray paint all day.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I mutter. “Since when do I care about shit?”
I blame it on yesterday, when what little I had left of my old life fell apart. And now I’m here, trying to figure out where to go, who I am, with nothing left from my old life, without Blaine, without Masie.
As if sensing where my thoughts are, my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Masie.
I almost don’t read it. Don’t want to read it. Know I shouldn’t read it. That it’ll probably just piss me off. Yet I find myself stupidly swiping my finger across the screen anyway.
Masie: Hey, I know you’re not talking to me, but there’s a party tomorrow, and I’d really like you to come with me. I think it’d be a good chance for us to talk. And maybe you could talk to Blaine, too. He misses you, Lex. We both do. You’re our friend.
Friend. It’s like she doesn’t even know what the word means. Really, I’m not even sure I do, if I ever did. That box of photos I found in my closet just seems like one big lie now.
I was living a lie.
Me: No, thanks.
It’s all I say. I could say more, say everything I’m feeling, but my feelings have already been exposed too much. I want to hide them, cover them back up where no one can find them. And, while I can hide for now, I’m going to have to face Blaine and Masie eventually. And while I’m friendless.
Well, maybe not totally friendless, if West and I are still going to try to be friends.
And what about that whole fake boyfriend/girlfriend deal we made? Is that still on? I haven’t heard from him since last night when he texted to check up on me and I told him Loki was going to tow my car home.
>
Masie sends me another text, but I ignore it and open up a text thread with West. Then I hover my fingers over the buttons as I figure out what to say, other than: Hey, are we still gonna pretend to date or what?
I dither. Well, I guess that might work.
Not seeing a better alternative, I type out the text message then put the phone down, assuming it’ll take him a while to text back, seeing how it’s spring break and late enough that he’s probably out partying or whatever it is West does. Honestly, I’m not really sure. Yeah, we hang out and everything, but not enough that I know everything about him. For all I know, he could have this whole other life. I mean, I didn’t even know him and Blaine weren’t that close anymore. When I really think about it, though, I haven’t seen them hang out as much as they used to …
Wait. Why am I overanalyzing West? What the heck is wrong with me?
I pull a face at the realization, picking up my phone as it buzzes.
Surprise flickers through me when I see West has replied. I thought it was going to be another text from Masie.
West: Of course we are. We made a deal and shook on it. And I take handshake deals very seriously.
I roll my eyes. God, he can be such a weirdo sometimes.
Still, seeing that he’s still on board with the plan relaxes me a bit.
Me: Okay, cool. We should probably go over the rules and decide how we’re gonna do this so it can actually look real. Although, I think some people will probably be a bit skeptical.
West: Why’s that?
Me: Um, because anyone who knows us knows there’s no way we’d ever date.
West: Yeah, I’m not gonna agree with you on that. I think most people are waiting for us to hook up.
Me: What??? No, they aren’t!
West: I’ve heard a couple of people say it. They think that’s why we’re always fighting. That it’s sexual tension.
I pull a face but can’t help thinking about how we bit each other’s necks yesterday. Barely, but it still was a touch. And I panicked. Could barely handle it.
Alexis Baker, the girl who can barely handle anything. Yet no one can see, see how she’s breaking underneath that scarred flesh of hers, who cringes at the feel of skin. At the feel of a touch.
I try not to panic as emotions try to rise inside me. My fingers itch to hold a spray paint can, and I seriously just about get up and grab one.
What the hell am I going to do? I can’t function as doesn’t-give-a-shit-about-anything Alexis without a release.
West: Did I scare you off? Because I was just kidding. I pinkie promise.
I actually don’t think he was, but I don’t call him out on it.
Me: We should probably talk about the rules.
A minute ticks by before he replies.
West: Okay, what are they?
Me: Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think there needs to be a no-falling-for-each-other rule. I mean, I really doubt that’ll happen, but I don’t know. I just want it to be a rule.
West: You know setting rules can’t control that sort of stuff, right? Rules can’t stop you from feeling stuff.
That’s not true at all. I have my own rules to keep me from feeling agony every day and, for the most part, it’s worked. Except for the last couple of days. I need to fix that and get my control back.
Me: I need it to be a rule.
West: Fine. What else?
Me: Well, after this is over, I think we should just go back to being enemies.
West: When were we ever enemies?
Me: Um, since forever. Well, except for yesterday.
West: Maybe. But yesterday we also agreed to try to be friends.
Me: Okay, maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we’ve actually become friends yet. And besides, I really doubt we’re going to be able to stop arguing all the time.
West: Friends can argue. In fact, it’s not a healthy friendship if you don’t argue a little bit.
I think about how Blaine and I never argued and almost type it to prove him wrong, but then I remember what happened yesterday.
Were Blaine and I ever really friends?
Me: Okay, how about frenemies?
West: Frenemies with benefits?
Me: Yeah, I’m going back to my original statement of being enemies.
West: I’m just messing with you. You can call us frenemies if you want, but I think you and I are going to be BFFs after all this is over.
Me: Guess you better work on those hair-braiding skills of yours, because my hair’s a lot longer and more untamable than Blaine’s.
West: I’ll get right on that. But you need to practice our sleepover skills. Because, from what I’ve heard, you’re quite the snorer.
Me: Masie has such a big mouth.
The mention of her makes my chest feel tight, but I clear my throat, trying to clear out the congestion.
Me: Anyway, I’ll work on my sleepover skills. But I do think there needs to be one more rule, and I already sort of said it earlier.
West: Aw, the no kissing rule. I remember. I also remember telling you that won’t work if we want to look like we’re dating.
Yeah, I remember him saying that, too. And, while I’m not one to make a big deal out of kissing someone, I also haven’t kissed anyone either. No, Jay may have touched me that day, but he didn’t try to kiss me. And I’m glad for that at least.
Still, the idea of kissing someone … of letting someone touch me like that … of maybe panicking … of looking that weak …
I shove the thoughts from my head. I can’t go to that place right now.
Focus on something else.
Focus on fixing the mess that is yesterday, starting with making Blaine think you’re over him.
I reread the text as I thrum my fingers against the sides of my legs, trying to figure out how to tell West about this kissing thing without looking like a freak. But then I say to hell with it and decide to type part of the truth, refusing to be that girl who worries about what a guy will think about her. I’ve been her before, and I have no desire to be her again. I’m tougher than that. If West wants to make fun of me for it, bring it on. I’ll make fun of his ass for the time he cried over spilling his ice cream. Granted, he was seven, but whatever. I know a lot of embarrassing stuff about him.
Me: The kissing thing might be a problem since I’ve never kissed someone. And I don’t think doing it in front of people for the first time and me being all awkward about it is gonna make our relationship look real.
He doesn’t respond right away, and I brace myself for some snarky remark to ping through, so I’m shocked by the text he finally sends.
West: If you want, I can come over there and practice with you. I’m not doing anything right now, except for hanging out with a couple of friends. I know it might be kind of weird, but I think it’s better to do it in private.
I have to read the text message twice to make sure I’m understanding it correctly.
He wants to come over tonight and practice kissing?
West and me kissing?
Kissing?
Lips.
Touch.
Connection.
Take West completely out of the equation and I still feel a sense of panic lashing through me at the idea of it. At the idea of touching someone like that. And letting them touch me.
Me: Tonight might not be the best night. I’m kind of in trouble right now.
West: I’m glad you brought that up. I wanted to ask you what happened yesterday but didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it.
Me: I really don’t. Let’s just say that I have to spend next weekend repainting the side of a grocery store.
West: So, just a usual weekend for you?
I send him the middle finger emoji, and he responds with a cheeky grin emoji.
I’m so close to smiling, and I have no clue what to do with that, but I can feel a meltdown building inside me. Fortunately, he sends another text that distracts me.
&n
bsp; West: Maybe I can just come over tonight and sneak into your room. I know you’re in trouble and everything, but one of Blaine’s football friends is having a party tomorrow night, and I was thinking it would be the perfect opportunity for us to kind of show up together as a couple.
He’s probably talking about the same party Masie invited me to. I don’t want to go. At all. But I also know West might be right.
Huh … I never thought that thought would flow through my mind.
West: Unless you can’t go. I’m not sure if you’re grounded or not.
Me: Loki never mentioned being grounded.
Not that he’s going to be on board with me taking off to a party only forty-eight hours after I got in trouble for vandalism. Still, if I do some good deeds, maybe he’ll let me out. If not, I can always climb out the window.
Guilt clutches my chest when I remember what he said, the worry in his eyes.
I need you to start caring …
Shit, I’m becoming a huge, confused mess; that mask continuing to fall off no matter how many times I put it back on.
West: So, you think you can come?
Can I?
Do I even want to?
I’m not sure.
About anything really.
I am Stupid, Confused Alexis.
I sigh at myself.
Me: I might be able to make it happen.
West: Awesome. Then I’ll head over now. Be there in like thirty minutes.
Wait … What?
While trying to figure out if I could go to the party, I forgot the reason we were discussing it.
Panic sets in, and I just about text him not to come. That we don’t need to practice kissing. That I can handle it. But then I picture myself at the party in front of all those people, maybe even Jay and some of his friends, and West leans in to kiss me. What if I panic and can’t get control of myself? What if he makes a huge deal about it? What if my mask drops and everyone sees the real me—the scared girl who lost her mother and father and is afraid of being bullied? Who shook on the floor while he groped me?
“You’re so fucking ugly.”
“No one wants you.”
He touches me.
Erases my skin
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 10