by Sky Chase
“Hadley has been with Susan all this week. I’ve barely seen my daughter. I must go to her recital. I’m sure she’d want her mom there rather than her nanny. I’ve been in this hospital all week, and I need to get out. This is your second visit—all I’m asking for is for you to put your work aside and watch him for one night.”
She talked about me like I was unstable and would probably murder the whole hospital if someone didn’t have an eye on me.
“He doesn’t need someone to watch him. Go to the recital and I’ll go to work, and that’s final.”
Hours later and I was alone. But that was how I wanted to be anyway.
3
Beverly
She stumbled through the front door and removed her heels. Her hair was a wild mess and her eyes bled mascara. It was six in the morning, and the dried puke on my mother’s jacket was a clear indicator that she’d enjoyed herself last night.
“Here, come on. Let’s get you to bed,” I said, making her jump slightly.
“Why are you still up?” she slurred slightly, chuckling a little.
“I’m about to leave for school. The bus will be here pretty soon. I have a big test first period and I was studying a few notes before you came.” I grabbed her arm and led her to her room.
Her eyes instantly shut in comfort as she climbed into her bed.
“Who would have thought I would have given birth to a nerd,” she cackled against her pillow as I pulled off her jacket.
She moaned and gripped her head. “Can you please hand me the painkillers? This headache is killing me, and if you really love me, you’ll make me some breakfast before you go.”
I hated when she said that: If you really love me you will. I couldn’t even remember the last time she told me she loved me, but yet it seemed like I had to constantly prove my love. “I have, like, seven minutes to make the bus, I don’t have the time to . . .” I gripped my bag, glancing at the clock hanging above her bedroom door.
“You can’t take seven minutes of your time to make your own mother some breakfast?” she spat, her eyes red and her breath bad.
I missed the bus.
I missed the test.
But my mom didn’t miss breakfast.
I grabbed my books as the bell for third period rang. The halls filled quickly, and it wasn’t long before we were packed like sardines in a can. The raging school of students flushed through and was about to dive into its classes. I tried to stay with the current until everyone stilled in a tight circle, staring at the scene that played before their eyes. I didn’t care what they were seeing; I was just trying to make my way to my locker. I pushed and slid around the thick crowd, until I, too, became rooted to the spot.
Everest.
He murmured quickly to Cara, a gray hoodie covering his head. He was positioned at an angle that only gave away the profile of his face.
I felt like I was seeing a ghost. Even though I knew he didn’t actually die, looking at him, I didn’t think he’d ever come back. It had been two weeks since the first day of school, and the Everest drama had sort of died down since then.
But there he was. In the flesh.
Cara’s features betrayed only disgust. “You have some nerve coming here.” He tried to grab her arm but she yanked it back. “Don’t touch me.”
Everest glanced around the large crowd and I saw redness—sadness—brimming in his irises. He quickly whipped his head back toward Cara.
“Look, he’s about to cry,” someone laughed in the crowd, causing a few more chuckles to arise in the large group.
“Is this really how you’re going to treat me?” I’d never seen Everest angry before.
Cara shrugged and grabbed some books from her locker, her blond hair shielding her face. Nash stood between them, his face a sleet of stone. “Get outta here, man. You don’t belong here anymore.”
His words struck me to the core, so I could only imagine how Everest felt. Head hung low, the gray hoodie shielding his head, strands of his bronze hair sticking from out of the top, he nodded slowly before turning on his heel and storming out of the high school.
Teachers came into the hall to break up the crowd, and for the second time, my heart broke for Everest.
4
Everest
“I never thought the day would come that the Everest Finley would ask for my services,” Mikey rasped out in a deep chuckle before taking another hit from his blunt.
Never did I ever think I would come here. I dreamed of dying and never having to accept the reality of the world. But here I was, buying weed and beer, allowing myself to sit in this dirty basement and forget about everything.
Mikey Cosweld, school stoner and lowlife, allowed people to chill in his basement. The Basement was full of druggies and drinkers. You entered through the garage because his grandpap had the late shift and needed to rest. You smoked and drank, maybe even popped a few pills. But you never talked about your problems; this wasn’t a shrink’s office. After handing him a fifty-dollar bill, I grabbed the brown paper bag, the key to my oblivion.
“Whoa, dude, what’s with the scars on your arm?” some guy from behind me asked.
“I . . . my . . . I have a crazy cat,” I lied, hoping no one could sense my discomfort.
Mikey eyed me, and I knew I’d failed.
“I want a cat, ha-ha-ha, so cute and fat,” some girl with purple hair on the old ratted couch giggled. She laughed and laughed, and I struggled to see what was so funny.
“I can cover that up.” Mikey nodded toward my wrist.
He must have read my confused facial expression because he lifted his sleeve to reveal a new set of sleeves—ones that were obtained by ink.
I looked back at him and he shrugged. “I had a cat too.”
After a few hits from my joint and a couple of beers, I looked like a different person. It didn’t take much. The girl with purple hair, who I later learned was Aurora, asked to dye my hair from its sandy-brown color to the darkest level of black, and I didn’t care to decline. My left arm was scattered in ink, a half-sleeve design that was pretty all right, even though I’d regret it later, but not now. I didn’t care. I was getting sick of seeing the same person in the mirror anyway.
When I looked in the mirror the next morning, part of me absolutely hated it. It was the complete opposite of who I always was, and that was why the other part of me loved it. After getting ready for the day, I treaded down the stairs and was met by my mom and sister sitting at the large mahogany dining-room table.
“Good morning, Everest,” Susan greeted me with a wry smile and wide eyes.
Hadley looked up from her breakfast and glanced at me before quickly glancing back down and chewing on her toast like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
My mother gasped. “What have you done?”
I was out all night and she didn’t even care to know where I was.
No calls.
No texts.
Some people may find it weird that I wanted my mom to call me, but it would show that she’d care if I was gone. Ever since I came home from the hospital she’d avoided me at all costs. This was the first time she actually acknowledged me, and it was to scold my appearance. I ignored her and grabbed an apple from the dining table.
“Why would you do that to yourself? How will you go out in public now? Matter of fact, you will go nowhere until I call Dr. Marinzel.”
So he can prod me with questions again just to offer lousy solutions?
“Fuck no,” I laughed in response, as she let out another gasp.
I’d never cursed before. I felt that notion was completely unnecessary, but it was time for changes, and I was loving every bit of it.
“I don’t know who you are anymore,” my mother said to herself, a wild look of sorrow and bewilderment on her features.
I grabbed my ho
odie and walked toward the front door. “You never did.”
“Where are you going?!” my mother yelled after receiving my parting blow of words.
“To another place I don’t belong,” I answered, shutting the door behind me.
5
Beverly
Heading into school that morning, I walked right past a group of students vying for attention during school elections.
“Vote Nami Lynn for senior class president.” The girl absentmindedly handed me a flyer and a lollipop.
There wasn’t much diversity in this school, but Nami Lynn was among those small numbers. Being black and Asian didn’t stop her from climbing up the social ladder. Her ethnicity didn’t get in the way of the things she wanted. She was president of almost all of the clubs and her grades were impeccable. Nami Lynn was just one of those people who seemed to have their lives together.
I watched as she threw a lollipop at Nash’s head. “Vote for me, bitch.”
Nash rubbed at his head as Cara glared at Nami.
“You look tense. You should masturbate with a knife sometime, I bet that will loosen you up, darling.” Nami smiled sweetly at Cara’s horrified expression before walking away.
I chuckled and slipped the lollipop and flyer into my bag. I was going to vote for her even though it wasn’t like she was going to lose. She’d won for the past three years.
I gathered my belongings from my locker with a smile. I was seemingly in a good mood for no reason at all. Maybe because lunch was next period.
“Whoa, is that who is think it is?” I heard someone say, bringing my attention to the end of the hall.
Gray hoodie. Everest.
Instead of bronze hair sticking from out of the hood, the hair was now black. He dyed his hair? His head was covered as he put his bag into his locker.
“Hey, Everest.” Martha Summers, one of the cheerleaders from Cara’s entourage, swayed her hips toward Everest and threw him a flirty smile.
He turned and she gasped. “What’s next? Black nail polish?”
I couldn’t see from the angle where I was standing, but other people stood around with surprised looks on their faces. Cara’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, and even Nash looked startled. I really wanted to see what they were seeing, but the lunch bell rang, and I was really hungry.
After waiting in line for about two minutes, I heard Nami’s voice as she joined the end of the line.
“. . . and he stuck his middle finger up, and asked her if black would be a cute color on that nail,” she laughed along with her best friend, Tiffany.
Tiffany’s laugh rang through the line. “That was so funny, her face turned, like, six shades of red. I never knew Everest could be capable of being rude to someone.”
“Are you guys talking about Everest? Am I the only one who thinks his new bad-boy image is sexy?” Another female voice joined the conversation.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everest sticking up his middle finger was such a taboo thought. Everest being bad? An even stranger thought.
Grabbing my water, I made my way to my dusty utopia. The sunlight barely peeked through the large windows—it was a beautiful autumn day. I couldn’t help but smile. I sat at my usual table and pulled out my brown paper bag before something happened that I would never forget.
“Are you lost?”
The voice was dangerously husky, and I almost fell out of my chair. No one ever came to the library in the east wing, so randomly hearing a deep voice inside a badly lit library was enough to make me almost crap myself. I dropped my sandwich and hurried to the door before I saw Everest come out from behind a bookshelf. I stilled and zoned in on his face. He looked confused as I stared at his newly ebony hair.
He looked so different.
My throat itched as smoke filled my nose. I glanced down at the smoking object in Everest’s hands.
Since when did he start smoking?
“Helloo?” he asked, slightly annoyed. He brought the smoking object to his lips and puffed. It was slightly beautiful—the image, I mean, not the potential risk of lung cancer.
“Smoking isn’t good for you,” I blurted, mentally slapping myself.
He stared at me weirdly for a second before chuckling. “Neither is trying to kill yourself, but that didn’t stop me either.”
Everest brought the butt back up to his mouth and the smoke whizzed around him. His strong jawline flexed as the smoke floated in patterns before disappearing.
“Are you lost?” I asked.
“Huh?” He squinted his eyes at me, and his mouth gaped slightly open in a sideways fashion.
“You asked me if I was lost, but I’ve always been here. I’m not the lost one, you are.”
Everest glanced down at the ground before looking back up at me. His piercing eyes met mine, making my skin tingle, before he chuckled a humorless laugh. “I guess I am the lost one.”
And in that moment, I realized I was talking to someone. Not only someone, but Everest, the most popular guy in school. Everest, the boy who tried to kill himself; the boy with the sad eyes. I noticed the crinkles between his eyebrows and I wanted to do something about them.
“My name is Beverly, and we are going to be good friends.”
I walked closer to him and held my hand out. My heart thumped in my ears as I waited for him to respond. The energy of the room stilled, and maybe I’d ruined whatever I’d tried to start. He stared down at my hand before returning the handshake.
“My name is Everest, and there is no chance in hell.”
This is going to be a little harder than I thought.
6
Everest
The first thing I noticed about Beverly was the four freckles that sat on the bridge of her nose. I immediately felt bad at how quickly I dismissed her. She looked harmless. I watched as her big brown eyes filled with disappointment, and she released my hand before she smiled.
“Good thing we aren’t in hell.”
Is she for real?
“Are you hungry?” she asked randomly.
“Not really,” I responded, quirking my left eyebrow at her. This girl was sort of strange.
“You sure? I don’t mind splitting my sandwich, and plus smoking can’t possibly be a filling lunch.” She laughed quietly at her lame joke and looked down at her shoes before glancing back up at me.
This girl was too nice. I already felt like a jerk for being rude, and although I was going through some stuff right now, she hadn’t done anything to me. I threw the cigarette on the ground and immediately crushed it under my boot. I took a deep breath while I bit down on my lip. “What kind of sandwich are we talking about here?”
I was hungrier than I realized and ended up eating my half and Beverly’s. She saw me eyeing her half, and so she just gave it to me.
“Turkey and avocado is actually way better than what I thought it would taste like.” I spoke into the silence.
“Told you,” she said, and stared at me in almost an observing way, like she was the scientist and I was the specimen. Fidgeting in the oak chair, I looked away because, honestly, that was really weird.
“So, what do you like to do for fun?” she asked, her nose wrink-
ling slightly.
No one had ever asked me that question. The only instance was when we all had to fill out those random questionnaires on the first day of school so the teachers could get to know us better, but I was in the hospital this year, so I didn’t exactly get the chance to read that question and jot down those same eight letters. Mostly because that was what I liked to do, and partly because that was the answer everyone expected me to put. I’d had a football glued to my hand for as long as I could remember. My dad played for this school back in his day, so I guessed he wanted to keep the legacy alive.
The game was fun for a while, but the pressure of
winning wasn’t. My dad got a call from the coach saying that I couldn’t be quarterback this year because I missed too many practices while I was in the hospital, but I think we both knew it was because they didn’t want a nutcase running the team. My dad’s heated glare still followed me, and the mist of disappointment and disgust still hung in that room.
“I like to sing?” I said. I hadn’t spoken this revelation out loud before, and not answering “football” for the first time was tripping me out a little bit.
Her eyes grew bigger and she smiled an open-mouthed smile, her chest raised as if she had something on the tip of her tongue but couldn’t get it out.
“Really? I work at this café on Brisklin Street and we have a lot of underground artists and people who come and play their music. You should come over sometime.”
She almost reminded me of a cartoon character, she was so animated. I stared at her for a minute, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why I’d just told her that.
“Maybe I will,” I said before I heard the dismissal bell.
What just happened?
7
Beverly
I love the way rain sometimes falls sideways, and even the most beautiful things aren’t straight edged. That was all I could think about as I sat in the passenger seat on the way to work.
“Hurry up, this rain is doing horrible things to my hair,” my mom said.
I pulled my head from the clouds to see my mother’s stormy expression. I wasn’t sure why she was upset, though—she was under the protection of her Honda, and her hair looked fine. I gathered my bag and prepared to make my way out of the car and into the rain to cross the street to my job.
My mother worked at the local salon. She’d had me at a young age, when opportunities were limited. Becoming a new mom and losing the love of her life within the span of two years definitely bruised my mother in a way that I never figured out how to heal. The story was that my grandparents never approved of my parents’ relationship, and when a pregnancy came into the mix, it only made matters worse. Her pregnancy rattled the already loose foundation of the nest, and so her parents decided it was time for her to fly away. They kicked her out but my dad was there to bring her in. My father was a miracle baby, conceived by surprise. My father’s parents were well into middle age when he came around. He was spoiled rotten because they never expected to have any children. My mom said when she told my father she was pregnant, he laughed. He never took anything too seriously. For my mom, that was a breath of fresh air compared to the restricted background she was raised in, which was pretty much all I knew about my mother’s side of the story because she never talked about it.