by L. F. Piper
“Have you had a nice day, kid?” Dad asks when we’re five minutes from the house.
“It's been amazing, dad. Thank you for everything.” We both know the plane ticket for Phoebe was in the form of a bright pink elephant sitting on the backseat, but neither of us mentioned it. I wasn't ungrateful, I was just sad. I really needed my best friend and I couldn't have her.
When we pull up in the driveway, I help dad get everything inside and laugh really hard when I see Pearl in the garden, chasing and tormenting a butterfly.
She is going to be my saving grace, I think to myself.
She comes bounding into the kitchen, tripping over her tiny paws, when she hears us and starts jumping and pawing at my legs. I bend down to scoop her into my arms and take her back outside with me while I smoke a cigarette. She carries on running around, chasing anything and everything; a fly, bumble bee or leaf. Then she went for a wee in the grass along the fence, right on top of mum’s flowers. Whoops!
I stub out my end and grab the enthusiastic puppy, taking her up to my room with me. I drop her on the big bed and lose her within seconds. I pat down a patch of fabric to make sure she isn’t there and make myself comfortable. I don’t want to squash her with my ass! She jumps out from up by the pillows and comes straight for me, climbing up my body, licking my face and I can't help but laugh at her. She’s such a happy little thing. I snatch up my phone and snap a handful of selfies and send one straight to Phoebe, uploading the rest to my Facebook account.
Emilia Gold: My BFF, Pearl. Had the best birthday ever!
Within ten minutes I’ve got over twenty likes and a handful of comments. Anya charmingly wrote, ‘Awh, a bitch. Just like her owner.’ At that, I sign straight back out and put my phone on my desk. I’m fucking dreading tomorrow more and more as the seconds go by.
I let Pearl have a wonder around my bedroom while I make a start on opening the parcel that Phoebe posted. I really want to know what’s inside, but I know whatever it is will triple the sadness already churning in my gut.
Suck it up, Emilia. You’ve got this.
I pull at the abundance of tape and after finally breaking through it, breathe in deep through my nose and dive in. I open the card first and stare in shock as all the colourful tiny birthday cake confetti inside lands in my lap. Fuck sake Pheebs!
Happy Birthday, Emilia! I hope you have a fab day. Inside this box are just a few little things that I know you're going to love. I hope this gets to you in one piece! I love you, girl xo
Fuck, I’m tearing up already, this is going to be bad. I place the card beside me on the bed and clean the mess up before Pearl tries to eat it, then dunk my hand back inside the box. I grip my hand around some fabric, dragging out a massive white t-shirt and I unfold it. There’s a collage of goofy pictures of the pair of us printed onto it. I remember when each one was taken. There’s some from school, sleepovers and days out – each one we’re pulling faces at the camera. I twist it to see the back filled with bold writing: EST 2000. Best Friends. Tears start flowing freely down my cheeks and onto my neck, but I'm laughing at the same time. 2000 is the year we met at playschool and we've been inseparable ever since.
Until Now.
I place the top with the card and pull out the next item, a coffee mug wrapped tightly in old newspaper. It has a picture of us looking like death has just fucked us over. It was from the morning after a party we'd been to. I remember it surprisingly well; we had only drunk a little, but we had hangovers from hell the whole next day. Phoebe's mum had thought it was hilarious – she probably wouldn’t have if she’d known it was her vodka that got us in such a state! – and took the photo. We were still wearing our pyjamas, me in the top to Phoebe's bottoms and Phoebe in the top to my bottoms. Our hair was a massive, knotted mess and dark circles of leftover makeup was coating our eyes. Phoebe’s false eyelashes were stuck to her cheek. We had both been sick three times the night before and were sat at the breakfast bar drinking black coffee from huge mugs, hoping it would make us feel slightly better. It's funny looking back now, but at the time, it sucked ass.
I pull out the final item; a plain disc. Phoebe made me a mixtape. We both have iPods, but it's not like I can send mine to her in the mail, let her upload what she wants before posting it back. I'll just copy everything from the disc and paste it onto my iPod.
I think I’ll do it right now!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Emilia
Dylan, the kid should’ve been called Dyson
I roll out of bed Monday morning, being careful not to wake up Pearl, who’s currently asleep by the railings at the bottom. She didn't want to leave me last night, so when I took her out for a potty break and she followed me back upstairs, I couldn’t turn her away. Well, she didn’t follow me as such, but she would’ve if she was big enough to climb the stairs. She stood at the bottom, crying and pawing at the step until I turned around, picked her up and carried her up them with me. I really needed the company if I’m being honest.
Since Kaydee was being an unreasonable class A bitch, I was back to getting up super early, so I could walk to school and be seated in class on time.
Maybe I should learn to drive...
Scratch that.
Who am I kidding? I wouldn't make it to my eighteenth birthday if I did.
I went to bed early last night and slept all the way through. Apart from worrying about what the day would bring, I was feeling good.
I shower and, while looking through my wardrobe for something to wear, brush my teeth. What? I'm female. We can multi-task… as foamy toothpaste dribbles down my chin. I decide on a light denim pinafore that I got for my birthday, with a white crop top underneath and my new ankle boots. I leave my hair in its natural form – straight, flat, boring, and put my makeup on. I grab my shoulder bag in one hand and Pearl in the other and go downstairs. I let her into the garden and steal an apple from the fruit bowl to eat on my journey through the gates of hell.
It’s still warm out, but thankfully not as hot as it was last week. Now I’m going to be walking to and from school daily, I don't want to be a constant sweaty mess.
Dad has already left for work and mum is walking Dylan to school, so I usher Pearl back inside after I’ve finished my cigarette and refill her food and water bowls. Then I lock all the doors before leaving.
I plug in my iPod and start my long and lonely trek to school. The first track that plays through my Beats is Bebe Rexha – Small Doses. Gah, this couldn’t be any more relevant to my life if it tried! Rather than listening to the lyrics, I bounce my head along to the beat instead. It feels good listening to something that Phoebe put together for me. It feels like I'm closer to her in some way, although I skip Paramore – Misery Business. Bad choice, Pheebs. I don't think that song will help with my mood at all, considering I’m heading towards the most miserable place I’ve ever known. I flick again and land on Britney Spears – Piece of Me and it makes me feel feisty. Maybe this isn't a good song either, I might actually give Anya a piece of my fist again if she comes at me for round two. I take a deep breath to calm my violent thoughts and listen to one more track. Estelle, Kanye West – American Boy begins flowing through me.
Fuck sake, he’s even controlling my bloody music!
I walk straight to my locker as the music comes to an end and I turn my headphones and iPod off. Now I don't have any music filling my ears, I can hear the students in the hallway talking about me.
“Lucie said that she's pregnant with Caleb's kid, but he and Anya will have it full-time.” I cringe.
“Well I heard Willow say that Anya is already pregnant with his kid, so I don't know how that will work.” I double cringe.
“I can't believe she thought she could split him and Anya up. I mean, look at her. Anya is so much prettier than her.” I'm done cringing.
I slam my locker closed, spin on the heel of my new boot and storm off to tutor period. I was praying hard that this class would be quiet, boy was I wrong. Anabelle,
another bloody cheerleader, has the whole class talking about me before I even take my seat. I wish I could put my headphones back on, but I'm not sure Mr Prescott would approve. He seems to be running late, so I have another twenty minutes to kill while listening to my peers not even trying to talk quietly about me before he walks in.
“Morning class. Please take your seats. There seem to be some problems that need my urgent attention, so if you'd like to head to the library or cafeteria until your first class begins, feel free to do so. You're more than welcome to stay put if you'd rather. I will see you all tomorrow morning. Do not interrupt any other classes on your way.” As soon as Mr Prescott leaves the room, the talk turns straight back to me again. I know, shocking, right?
I grab my shoulder bag and intend to walk outside for a cigarette, but Anabelle steps in front of me before I can exit. “How does it feel to be a whore, Emilia?” She asks me with a smirk, bony arms folded across her flat chest, sharp hip jutting out. I’m not sure what it is with all these cheerleaders, they all look so unhealthy. She's trying to intimidate me, but it won't work.
“You're really asking me that, Anabelle? I thought you, of all people, would know what that feels like.” I move around her and leave the room. I hear her scream of frustration all the way down the hallway and smile to myself. I won't let them keep treating me like I'm shit on their shoes.
Time to scrap the skimpy thongs and bring out the big bloomers, Emilia!
***
Classes dragged by all morning. People kept talking about me, someone said I looked good for being pregnant. I don't think these idiots realise that even if I was pregnant, which I'm most certainly not, I wouldn't be fucking showing yet anyway. Twats. At least whoever it was said I looked good. Wait, good for pregnant. That's not really a compliment, is it? Fuckers.
I was able to eat most of my lunch in peace. I sat on my own at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria and from where I was, I could see Kaydee sat with all the 'cool kids', including Anya, Christina and Anabelle. I couldn't help but laugh to myself. She’s definitely changed. Why would she want to be around them? From what she told me, they all gave her so much shit before Caleb went wherever he went. As if my mind magically conjured him up at the mere thought, I watched him sit down next to Anya, put his arm around her chair and kiss her hard. It made my blood boil, but I'm not entirely sure why.
Because she's a piece of work?
Because it should be me?
Or am I just angry at myself for getting in too deep?
I have no idea, but I'm suddenly not very hungry anymore. I ditch my food tray and head to my locker to get my books for next class.
To get to my English room, I must walk back past the cafeteria and just as I'm approaching it, Caleb and Anya walk out. He has his arm slung over her shoulder, squeezing her tit. Everyone else are trailing behind them. I can't just stop and walk the other way, that would mean they win and I'm too proud for that. I keep walking forward, head high, but as I'm about to make it past them, Caleb shoulder barges me so hard, my opposite shoulder and head crash into the lockers beside me. I let out a small cry and see stars appear behind my eyes.
It’s certainly not the same stars he normally shows me.
I need to blink a couple of times to make my vision return to normal and when I look back up, they've all started to walk away, thank God. I can hear them all laughing, though and that is more embarrassing than what actually happened. Anya has the loudest and fakest laugh of them all, like nails being dragged against a chalkboard.
I pick my bag up from the ground and keep walking, again with my head held high. Other students are staring at me, some are laughing, but I don't stop to see who. I go right into the girl’s bathroom before I burst into tears in front of them all. I lock myself in a stall and silently purge everything out of my system in the form of big fat teardrops. I'm not crying because they're are picking on me, or whatever. I'm crying because what Caleb just did really hurt me.
And I might be a little bit embarrassed.
Okay, fine. A lot embarrassed.
My head is throbbing and there's a tiny bit of blood oozing out of the small cut above my eyebrow. My shoulder feels like it has been popped out of the socket, but I know it hasn't. He's always been an asshole, since the second I met him. Always picking on me, hurting me, but he's never been so rough before. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve his wrath. Maybe I should've just walked the other way when I saw them. Screw my pride.
I wipe my eyes with the cheap scratchy toilet paper that my mother would downright refuse to wipe her bits with, and dust myself off. I reapply some makeup to hide the small cut on my forehead; my hair will hopefully cover most of it and I leave the bathroom to head to class. Only two hours left, thank fuck.
***
I make it home eventually, after the longest day of my life. My body aches and my head is pounding. I trudge inside, and Pearl is at my feet, barking and tail wagging. I smile, but I don't feel like playing right now. I drop my school bag at the foot of the stairs, pick her up and fall onto the sofa in the lounge, and she curls up in my lap. “Hey, girl. How was your day? Mine sucked fucking ball sacks and I'm glad to finally be home,” I whisper, stroking her ears between my fingers. I know she doesn't understand a word I'm saying, but it's nice to be able to talk freely and not have to worry about it starting a fight.
“Hi, sweetie. I didn't hear you come in. How was your day?” My mum asks when she sees me slumped along the sofa.
“Fine. How was yours?” She starts telling me all about her day and I wish I never asked. I'm not listening to anything she says, but then she finally stops. “That's good. I'm going upstairs for a bath and then I'll walk Pearl.” I stand up and the dog jumps down, running into the kitchen.
“No need, I only got back with her about twenty minutes ago. You can walk her tomorrow evening.” I silently thank God that I don't have to leave the house again today and drag myself upstairs. I run a bath, emptying every relaxing scent bottle I can find in the cabinet inside the rising scolding water. I ditch my clothes and submerge myself in the heavenly liquid. It's super hot, but I don't care. I'm glad my skin is red raw; its created a new pain for me to focus on instead of the ache in my shoulder. I use a face wipe to remove my makeup and toss it into the sink when I'm done. I close my eyes and don't open them again until I hear my phone pinging with an incoming text message. I shake the excess water from my hands and pick it up from where it has been resting on the closed toilet seat.
Caleb: Mine. Twenty minutes.
I nearly laugh. That is never going to happen. He's got me in enough trouble with Anya as it is.
Emilia: Boy, bye.
I pull the plug to drain some of the cooling water and turn the hot tap on, filling it back up and adding some more bubbles.
Caleb: Don't test me, Doll. You better be here, or I'll be coming to you and trust me, you don't want that.
No, he's damn right I don't want that. I jump out of the bath, not even bothering with a towel, leaving wet footprints and puddles all over the hallway before reaching my bedroom. I dart over to the window and twist the key to lock it, pulling the curtains closed just for good measure. I know it isn't much, but at least if he does try to climb in again, he'll have a nice surprise when the window doesn't budge.
Emilia: Not going to happen. Leave me alone.
I wrap my dressing gown tightly around my body when an awful thought pops into my head. Shit, Dylan could’ve had the fright of his life if he had chosen that precise moment to come up the stairs. Christ, I was running around butt naked! This is exactly the problem, Caleb makes me act on impulse. I always do stupid things when he’s around or inside my head.
I turn my phone off and place it on my desk, opting to take my iPod with me instead to listen to the rest of Phoebe's playlist so I can continue enjoying my soak. I don’t plan on leaving this tub until at least bedtime.
***
I don't hear when my mum walks into the bath
room hours later.
“SHIT! Mum! What the hell?” I nearly jump out of my skin, sending water sloshing over the edge of the bath, when I feel her cool hand rest against my boiling skin.
“Sorry, Lia. I was calling you and knocking on the door but weren't answering. I figured you probably had your music on. Your dinner has been on the table for about ten minutes now.” She's about to leave, but I stop her.
“I’m not hungry, mum. I had a big lunch at school today. If Dylan is still hungry, he can have mine too. Could you just plate me up some scraps for later, just in case?” Dylan, the kid should’ve been called Dyson. He’s always snatching up everyone’s leftovers.
She smiles and agrees that she will. If I know my mum, and of course I do, there will be a plate of food down there fit for a Queen, not just the scraps I asked for. I don't plan on eating any of it. Between Anya and Caleb, they have ruined any appetite I might have had.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Emilia
You fuck her arch enemy instead
Tuesday pretty much followed the same suit as Monday. Caleb pushing me around, Kaydee still not making eye contact and Anya just being the bitch she was born to be. What can I say? She plays the part so well.
Caleb practically broke my neck earlier when he walked by me, squeezing the back of it so fucking hard, I have no clue how my bones didn’t shatter there and then in his strong hand. I'm guessing it’s because I disobeyed his orders last night by not going to his place.
I'm tired, bruised and lonely. I was never the popular kid back at home, but I still had friends. I went to parties, sleepovers and shopping all the time with them. Now, I'm a complete loser. I didn't think fitting in would be so difficult. I thought, as the new girl, I would get singled out for maybe a day, two at most. This is just plain torture. I'm not a mean person and that confuses me. I would totally understand why everyone hated me if I was being horrible to them, but I haven’t been nasty to any of them.