The Damned

by Jennifer Snyder

  Julie chucked her wadded up paper towel at him. “We practically did.”

  He caught it and laughed. “We did not. I would never let you starve. You know that.”

  My sister grinned and took a sip of her water. Who were these two? Before they had left Harper, they were both introverted and broken. Now, they were couple of the freaking year, laughing and smiling like nothing bad had ever happened to either of them.

  It irritated me.

  “I think I’m gonna go unpack some stuff.”

  I was eager to put distance between them and me. My head throbbed with too much swirling through it all at once. But there was one thing, one thought that stood out most—how the hell had my sister been able to create such a picture-perfect life for herself when she’d left me in that shithole? If I was honest, that was what bugged me the most out of everything.

  “Care if I eat in my room?”

  My room, the words felt strange rolling off my tongue, but not as strange as the entire sentence itself. Never had I uttered that sentence before. Mainly because there was never anyone around to ask questions to, let alone ones that mentioned food.

  “No, that’s fine. Just don’t smoke in the house, okay?” Julie lifted the lid to the pizza box and grabbed herself another slice. “The owner doesn’t like tenants who smoke.”

  “Okay.” I plucked a paper towel from the roll on the counter before heading toward the space they had deemed as mine.

  My shoes squeaked against the polished hardwood floors of the stairs as I started up them. Once I reached the top, I took in the landing large enough to house a freaking couch and then some, if you wanted. I had been to a few parties at houses with areas like that. In them, bookshelves and comfy overstuffed chairs had always taken up the entire space. Nick and Julie’s area was bare. Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I ducked inside the average-sized room on the left my stuff had been tossed into, bypassing the bathroom I found earlier. I liked the layout of the upstairs. My bedroom and bathroom were to the left of the stairs, at the top was the landing area, and then to the right was Nick and Julie’s room. They had their own master bath, so we wouldn’t have to share anything besides the downstairs.

  Stepping over the trash bags that littered the floor, I crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed to finish my pizza. I could have eaten downstairs with Nick and Julie, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure I could handle much more of their happiness. This would be something I would have to ease myself into. It was all too strange being here. I felt as though I was a foreign entity that wasn’t supposed to be present in this new version of my sister’s life. I was a shadow from her past coming to darken her future with old memories.

  For the first time since calling to ask if I could live with them, irritation wasn’t my only emotion; the icy touch of guilt had managed to trickle in as well.

  I crumpled up my paper towel and tossed it beside me on the bed before heading to the window. The AC was on, but I didn’t care. I needed a cigarette and I wasn’t about to go outside to smoke it, regardless of what Julie had just said. When I pulled the window all the way open, I glanced around. There wasn’t anything I could walk out onto, so I popped the screen out and leaned out to smoke. I’d only taken one drag off my cigarette when I noticed her—the girl from earlier who had been dressed in the yellow bikini top and a pair of short ass shorts.

  She was perched on the rooftop of her garage, staring up at the sky without noticing me. Leaning against my elbows, I raked my eyes over her, taking in everything about her. She was no longer wearing the bikini top; instead, she wore a white shirt with little spots of pink dotted along it. The same pair of shorts gripped her hips though, and her feet were now bare. Licking my lips, I continued to stare at her, wondering what her name was and why the hell she was sitting on the roof. The sound of something banging from inside her house, followed by muffled shouts, swept across the breeze, and I suddenly understood perfectly. She was hiding from her parents’ fight.

  I could relate.

  While my case had been slightly different—I listened to music as loudly as I could to drown out the things I didn’t want to hear—I still understood. I didn’t sympathize with her, but I understood why she sat there.

  Taking the remaining drags off my cigarette, I blew the smoke into the air and watched it curl in front of me before disappearing into nothing. A moment of peace settled over me. I shifted my gaze back to the girl, and noticed her eyes were on me.

  We stared through the distance at each other, one broken soul to another. Our eyes had only locked for the briefest of moments, but somehow I knew this about her. I knew that she was in pain, just like me.

  Without thinking much about it, I lifted my hand and gave her a little wave similar to the one she’d given me earlier. The corners of her lips pulled into a small smile. The sight of it made my insides quiver with something that could only be described as giddy want. I had never felt my body respond to someone so quickly and furiously before.

  My mind pulsated with the knowledge that I wanted the girl next door like nothing I had ever wanted before.

  She moved to slip back into her window the second her eyes dropped from mine. I watched her unabashedly as she closed the window, pulled her blinds down, and disappeared from my view. It was then that I made the connection our bedroom windows faced each other.

  Smirking, I thought to myself how I could have some fun with this.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EMORY

  On Monday morning, my parents still weren’t talking, and the tension between them hung thick throughout the house. I grabbed an orange from the bottom crisper of the fridge and sidestepped my mother as she leaned over me for the milk.

  “I’m making breakfast. Can’t you wait ten more minutes to eat?” She eyed the orange in my hand.

  Shaking my head, I pierced my thumbnail through the thick skin of the orange. The citrusy scent fluttered to my nose, and I inhaled deeply. “No, I can’t. I have to be to the gym in like twenty minutes.”

  While this was the truth, it also was a cover. I didn’t want to eat sausage and pancakes with either of them. Not only because it was highly likely that they would pick right back up where they had left off in their argument from last night, but also because of the calories I was sure were packed in the meal. If I was going to lose the weight Coach Karen claimed I needed to—the weight my mother had so cruelly pointed out the other night—there was no way I could consume a meal like that for a while.

  My mother’s puffy eyes darted to the clock on the stove. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late already.” She reached for a brown paper bag on the counter and held it out to me. “Here, I made you lunch.”

  “Thanks.”

  I took the bag, even though I knew I wouldn’t eat anything she had packed in her guilt-ridden lunch. Flashing her a small smile, I headed through the house toward the front door. Dad stood in the living room, folding the blankets he used last night on the couch.

  I paused and stared at him, wondering if he would be here when I got home. “Bye. I’ll see you later.”

  “Where are you going?” There was a slight tint to his cheeks when he turned to face me. I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed by his behavior last night or at having to sleep on the couch. Both?

  “Practice.” I smiled, wanting him to remember the good me—the dedicated, disciplined me—not all the negative stuff my mother had told him last night. “I’ll be home by four though.”

  “All right, see you then, sweet pea.” His attention shifted back to the blanket he was folding and our conversation was over.

  “Okay.”

  Once I stepped into the breezy morning air, my muscles loosened, and my eyes drifted to the house beside ours. Images of Cole leaning out his bedroom window, smoking a cigarette, flashed through my mind. I had hoped to see him doing the same this morning, but glancing at his window, I noticed it was still shut tight and completely dark inside. He probably wasn’t awake
yet. I thought of how much I envied that luxury—sleeping in. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been able to enjoy the simple sensation of sleeping in. Even on the mornings I had late practices or none at all, Mom would wake me for something.

  The familiar sound of my father’s raised voice streamed from inside my house and charged the air around me. Apparently, they were picking up where they had left off last night.

  I sighed as the proverbial thought that always seemed to help me through moments like this flooded my mind: Having a perfect daughter they can both be proud of will give them one thing to agree on, something to hold them together a little longer.

  I had told myself this numerous times over the years, using it to push myself to excel in every part of my life, from my gymnastics routines to schoolwork.

  I wasn’t stupid, hopeful maybe, but not stupid. Even now, at seventeen, I knew the wishful thinking that something as simple and insignificant as me getting up at the butt crack of dawn to head in for another practice and having either of my parents take notice of this action in a positive light was farfetched.

  I climbed into the driver’s seat of my Mini Cooper and cranked the engine before I drove away. I relished this little taste of freedom every chance I could—the sensation that coursed through me while I left the two of them behind. It was short-lived though; the surge of independence and freedom dissipated once I turned into the parking lot of Ignite. While Karen wasn’t an exact replica of my mother, she was similar enough that I often wondered how I made it through practice. There were moments when I wanted to scream at her for the things she said in an effort to provoke some sort of emotion within me she felt would bring my routine to a new level.

  There was one difference between my mother and my trainer though—Karen knew how to express when she was proud of me. This was the driving force behind me tolerating the things she chose to say that seemed too cruel at times.

  I grabbed the orange I had started to peel, my bag, and water bottle, before I slipped out of my car and started in the direction of the glass door, leaving my mother’s packed lunch behind on purpose. Gravel crunched beneath my sneakers, and a gentle breeze blew through my hair, reminding me that I’d forgotten to pull it back into a bun this morning. I pulled the heavy glass door open and strolled inside. The rubbery scent of the plastic mats met my nose, and I smiled at the familiarity.

  Some days this place felt more like home than my actual one. It was the only place I had ever been allowed to go to without question, the one place I could always use to disappear from my parents’ failed attempts at communication and my sister’s stressful, rebellious ways.

  I walked straight through the building, knowing exactly where I would find Karen. She was right where I thought she would be in all her tracksuit glory. Today, the suit was light lavender, which accented the blue of her eyes. Her blondish hair was pulled back into her trademark high bun, and her signature smile was already plastered across her face at seeing me.

  “Morning sunshine.” She beamed.

  “Hey.” I let my bag slip off my shoulder as I set my water on the floor. Still holding the orange, I finished peeling it.

  “Why isn’t your hair pulled up?” Karen placed a hand on her hip and glared at me.

  “I forgot, but don’t worry.” I flashed her my wrist, giving her full view of the hair tie there. “I came prepared.”

  “All right, well, finish your breakfast and then we’ll weigh in since it’s the beginning of a new week. I want to make sure you’re still on track to lose those few pounds.” Karen turned around, going back to shifting the mats into position across the floor.

  This was one of the areas she reminded me of my mother most—her desire to have everything exact. She was another perfectionist in my life, another who I desired to make happy, but whose standards were so high that I had to push myself as hard as possible to meet them.

  Popping a slice of orange into my mouth, I mentally went over the routine I had been learning—perfecting—for weeks now. The level of skill was one I didn’t think I harbored, but Karen assured me I nailed the majority of it on the first try. This comment had made quite a few girls on my team jealous, same as earning these one-on-one training sessions with Karen had. A smile twisted the corners of my lips as I remembered their reactions to the news.

  “Let’s hope you can land that back three and a half twist this time.” Karen’s words burst my happy bubble.

  Frowning, I popped another orange slice into my mouth. If I didn’t land that twist soon, I was sure Karen would suggest taking it out and replacing it with something else, but then the routine would lose its uniqueness and the crazy level of skill would drop. In addition, I would have to see disappointment swirl through her eyes when she looked at me. Either that, or else she would pass the routine to someone else she felt could hack it.

  Replaced was not something I wanted to be. I needed to shed those few pounds she felt were hindering me. I needed to tone my muscles to perfection. I needed to nail that twist. Failure was not something I dealt with well. Maybe I was more like my mother than I thought.

  After polishing off the remainder of my orange, I swiped my hands across my spandex pants before running my fingers through my hair. I pulled it into a high ponytail and then began twisting it as tightly as I possibly could into a standard bun. I’d performed this task thousands of times over the years, to the point that my hands knew exactly what to do without much thought on my part. Each twist of my hair and movement of my fingers were as familiar as tying my shoelaces now.

  I pulled off my thin jacket and stepped out of my shoes before slipping my pants off so that I was wearing nothing besides my leotard. After moving onto the mat laid out before me, I continued to Karen’s side, ready to be weighed.

  “All right, kiddo, let’s head to the scale first.” She smiled. “I want to make sure we’ve began to shed those few extra pounds you somehow managed to pack on the last few months.”

  Nodding, I forced myself to return Karen’s smile. She had no clue as to why I gained those few extra pounds, what tragedy had locked me in a state of guilt-ridden depression.

  When we reached the scale, I stepped into place. The cool metal nearly stung the bottoms of my feet, but I remained still, holding my breath, while listening to the flick of the slider as Karen moved it along the bar, waiting for it to balance out.

  “One-O-nine and a half, I’d say.” Karen beamed. She lifted her hand for a high-five and laughed. “All right, just four and a half more to go, and then you’ll be at the ideal weight to tumble across those mats with ease and handle the uneven bars like no other. Great job, Emory!”

  Her words of praise repeated through my mind as I lifted my hand and gave her the high-five she desired. A large smile stretched across my face, but it was partially forced. While I had managed to lose something, it wasn’t enough. My heart had been set on seeing, at the very least, a whole pound gone, not a half. I didn’t do anything halfway.

  Inside, the icy pinpricks of failure stabbed at me. Cutting back on my portions during meal times hadn’t been enough.

  I was always careful—mindful—of the things I put past my lips, because I never wanted to be the girl who ate more than the boys did. I always wanted to be the one who ate the least at the lunch table, the one who all the girls looked to and based their food intake off because they didn’t want to appear piggish or greedy. A half a pound wasn’t enough. I would have to do better.

  Deciding sugar would be the first thing to go from my diet, I followed Karen away from the scale and back onto the tumbling mats to practice. I contemplated calorie amounts, and counted how many carbs were in certain foods. Now that I knew my weight, and how little I had lost this past week, I could feel the pounds I had left to shed. They were obvious to me. Each cell felt thick, bloated, and jiggly as they combined on my thighs, hips, and stomach. Gross didn’t even begin to describe the way I felt about myself. I was a fat failure who was a disappointment to everyone.
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br />   I could do better; I could be better…no, better yet, I would.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  COLE

  When I woke the next morning, I lay staring up at the new ceiling above me. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had slept peacefully in my bed. While this wasn’t the room I was used to waking in, the bed was still the same and that meant something. Thoughts of the last two days tumbled through my mind at a pace far too fast for this early in the morning. The desire to smoke a little something or pop a pill to ease those racing reflections built inside of me.

  There was nothing to use though; everything had been confiscated by the cops.

  For a moment, I toyed with the idea of asking Nick or Julie if they had anything in the house. Julie used to smoke every now and then, Brian had told me that much, but I wasn’t sure if this new version of her did. And Nick, I wasn’t sure he’d ever done anything besides drink in his entire life. I had already looked in the fridge and around the kitchen for alcohol yesterday. There wasn’t any. This place was bare of any booze, which didn’t surprise me, considering alcohol had been the one thing Nick had been raised around. His father had been nothing besides an asshole drunk who beat both him and his mother for years.

  I pressed my palms into my eyes, struggling to force away the thoughts and emotions that crashed into me like uncontrollable tidal waves. The terrifying sensation of drowning in a room without water squeezed my chest. I rolled off the bed and grabbed my pack of cigarettes from the floor. I opened the window the same way I had the night before and leaned out to light my cigarette. My eyes landed on the gray roof of the garage across the way, and I instantly remembered the girl next door. Disappointment blistered my insides when I noticed she wasn’t there like I wanted her to be.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  One minute I was craving an escape like a damn junkie, and the next I was hoping for a chance to see a girl whose name I didn’t even know. My life had been twisted all to hell over the course of seventy-two hours. Thanks, Mom.