Almost Everything (Nickayla Quinn Trilogy Book 2)

by Jasmine Carolina

  “What?” I ask.

  Colin walks toward me, his green gaze fixed upon me. “You have to apologize to her. What if it was your stuff that got thrown down the stairs?”

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to antagonize the person whose home I’m staying in.”

  “You’re being irrational.”

  I glare at him. “And you are blinded by the fact that she’s supposedly broken!”

  “Nickayla, you’re acting crazy!”

  My jaw drops open for a nanosecond and then I shut my mouth. I swing my backpack over my shoulder, snatch my car keys off the hook by the door, and stuff my cell phone into my pocket. I’m so incredibly pissed that I can’t see straight, and I’m afraid that if I stay here a second longer, someone’s going to get seriously hurt. And it’s not going to be me.

  “Nickayla!”

  I open the door and turn to face Colin. “Go fuck yourself!” I yell, before I walk right out the apartment and slam the door behind me.

  Fourteen.

  “Nickayla Quinn! Do my eyes deceive me, or have you actually come out of your Colin Bubble?” Sarah squeals as I approach my locker. She wraps her arms around me, and all my anger from earlier instantly fades away. “We need a girls’ weekend, and soon, because I feel like I never see you anymore!”

  I wince. Sarah and I were so close back in freshman and junior year, and we got a bit closer when I started dating Colin. But lately, I haven’t seen much of anyone but Colin and Madilyn. And that bugs me a lot more than it probably should.

  “I know. We’ll plan a weekend up at Nonna’s lake house and not invite the boys,” I tell her, returning the hug before I stuff my belongings into my and Colin’s shared locker.

  Sarah claps her hands and jumps up and down, grinning as she pulls out her cell phone and starts texting away.

  “I’m so excited, Nic! I’ll have to tell Nomi and Mich and Aly and…did you want to invite Susanna?”

  I shrug, but not because I’m nonchalant about the idea of inviting Colin’s little sister, but because I know that she really needs space right now, from all of us. I don’t want to ruin that by inviting her somewhere so soon, like everything in her life is normal when it’s not. “Not this time. She lives too far and Keaton will only bring her if he’s headed this way already.”

  I close my locker, and Sarah trails behind me as we head toward our classes.

  Sarah’s presence beside me has driven away every negative feeling I’ve felt since this morning. She walks me to my first period class, then gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Do you work today, Nic?” she asks. “Maybe we can go to the lake house after school.”

  Shaking my head, I wave off the idea.

  “I don’t work, but I have something I have to do afterschool. Rain check?”

  Its not that I don’t want to hang out with Sarah. In fact, I really do. I just think it’d be best if I spent the afternoon alone after the morning I’ve had.

  I knew that Madilyn was up to something from the moment that I knew about her, and the fact that she confirmed I was right—on top of the fact that Colin doesn’t believe me—doesn’t sit well with me.

  “Of course,” Sarah says with a wide grin. “Just don’t go becoming a hermit again, okay?”

  She begins walking away, and I ponder what she said. If only she knew how badly I want to be anything but a hermit right now. How badly I just want all of this to be over, and how tempting the idea of revisiting the lake alone is to me at this precise moment…

  The minute the thought crosses my mind, Colin starts approaching me. I brush past him, heading down the hallway toward our classroom and not making eye contact. If I do, I’ll just get upset all over again, and that’s not really going to help either of us.

  Crazy.

  I don’t know why that word affects me this way, why it makes me feel like absolute shit. But it does. And my heart breaks every time I remember the fact that Colin called me that.

  Ever since what happened with Kyle, I’ve felt like I was crazy. Had I let him do what he did to me? Could I have done more to stop him? Could I have done anything to stop him? Did I fight hard enough? Did I make a mistake by not telling anyone? Was I crazy for wanting to die after what happened to me?

  I want to hate him. I want to hate him for putting all of these thoughts back into my head with just one word.

  But I can’t, as much as I want to. And that makes me want to hate him even more.

  I step into my English classroom, surprised to see Dixon from Support Group sitting in the center. I gulp nervously, and when I smell Colin’s cologne, indicating that he’s entered the room behind me, I take a few steps forward. I drop my books on the desk and take the empty seat beside Dixon.

  When I do, I let my bangs fall into my face so that I don’t have the chance to look at Colin. I can’t look at him right now. I pull out my pen and notebook, ready to get to work so that I don’t have to focus on anything but my school work.

  “Good morning, class,” Miss Jeffrey says, writing our agenda on the board.

  “Good morning,” we say in monotonous response.

  I can see the words, can read what she’s writing clear as day, but when my pen starts moving against the blank paper of the brand new notebook, I don’t see the same thing. All I see is the thing I’ve been trying to push away for the past year.

  My compulsive need to write fucking lists.

  Why do I do this when I’m stressed? I don’t know. But I can’t seem to help it.

  Reasons to forgive Colin

  -He probably didn’t mean it

  -He’s grieving

  -He didn’t hear what Madilyn said

  -He doesn’t want any fighting

  On the other side of the page, I’ve written:

  Reasons not to forgive Colin

  -He called you CRAZY.

  I rip the piece of paper out of the notebook, balling it up in my fist before I jerk back in my chair and rush to my feet. Racing over to the trash can, I toss it in, taking a deep breath before I return to my seat.

  “Hey,” Dixon says when I resume my place beside him. “You okay?”

  I nod, giving him a smile, because I don’t really know what else to do right now. “I’m fucking perfect. Can’t you tell?”

  He chuckles under his breath, then gives my shoulder a gentle nudge with his.

  “Well, if you need anyone to talk to about what’s not fucking perfect, you know where to find me, yeah?”

  “’Course.”

  I flip my hair over my shoulder, and I happen to glance over to the other side of the classroom where Colin is watching me, his emerald eyes wide and his jaw twitching a bit. I hold his gaze for a few moments before my emotions begin to get the better of me, and just like that, the moment is gone. I don’t know what that expression was, or what he was reacting to, but it didn’t look good at all.

  …

  I’ve just gotten off the phone with my therapist, who I called the minute that I pulled in behind the lake house after school. I was afraid I was going to jump again, and I needed her to help me through whatever this episode is that I’m apparently suffering through. She talked to me for about an hour and a half before I was able to assure her that I was fine. She didn’t even get off the phone until I promised her that I would call her if I had another Bad Spell.

  That’s what she’s been calling the times that I get depressive, because I don’t feel comfortable with her calling me suicidal. I’m not. I don’t want to die, not anymore anyway. I’ve just been feeling empty these days, and I get in these moods where I’ll do whatever it takes to feel anything but.

  I’m sitting on the edge of one of the rocks lining the water, my shoes sitting beside me and my feet are in the lake. I close my eyes, leaning forward so that I’m resting my elbows atop my thighs, and my chin in the palms of my hands. I start kicking the water with my feet, letting the wind whip my hair to and fro. It flows into my face, sticking to my lip gloss, and I close my ey
es as they begin to sting.

  What if Colin’s right? What if…oh, God, what if Madilyn is right? What if I am crazy?

  I struggle to push the thought from my mind, and I almost do when I hear footsteps behind me. I open my eyes right before the tears begin to fall, and when I see a glimpse of the shoes Colin wore to school today, I close them again. I make a point to look away from him and stare across the lake, to the house he lived in when all of this began.

  I wonder what he was doing the night I jumped, and what he thought of me when he pulled me out of the freezing cold water. I wonder if he knew that I was broken, and he felt compelled to save me, to heal me, just like Madilyn said he tends to do.

  “You’re a hard girl to find, Nickayla Quinn,” Colin says, his deep raspy voice cutting through my psyche.

  I shrug, still not risking a glance at him, because I don’t want him to see me cry.

  “I wasn’t exactly hiding,” I tell him in response.

  “No, just running away. Again.”

  I wince, unable to hide how badly those words make me feel.

  “Don’t do that.” My voice is a hoarse whisper as I try to fight the emotional storm that’s raging through me. “Don’t make this about me running again. That’s not what this is, and it’s about time you damn well knew it.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear the moment that he starts breathing deeper, like he’s trying to keep something inside, though I don’t know what.

  “What is this about, then, Nickayla? Is this about Mads? Because she’s gone.” He places a hand gently on my shoulder, but I jerk away. “Jesus, Nic. Look at me.”

  At the sound of my nickname escaping from his lips, I can’t help but choke on a sob. He’s the only one who never calls me by my nickname straight to my face. He’ll refer to me as Nic when talking to someone else, he’ll introduce me as Nic because he knows that’s what I prefer to be called. By everyone except him. He only calls me Nic directly on two occasions: when he’s mad at me, or when I’ve hurt him somehow.

  And for some reason, neither of those reasons seem plausible right now.

  I peek over my shoulder at him, and his eyes widen when he sees that I’ve been crying. He reaches an arm around me, and I pull away from him again. The devastation in his eyes is evident immediately. He withdraws his arms, resting his hands in his lap.

  “What did I do?” he asks.

  I wonder for a moment who he’s asking—me, or himself.

  “For the first time in what feels like forever, this is not about your precious Mads.” I spew her name like there’s acid in my mouth.” You can’t make this about me running away from you, or away from us, Colin. You can’t call me crazy and then accuse me of running away. You are pushing me away. So much so that I’m afraid to push back. I’m not running, babe. I’m holding on to us with what little strength I have left, but I need you to need me back.” I sigh. “And I need for you not to call me crazy. Ever. Some girls say that abuse and cheating are both on their list of deal breakers? Well, calling me crazy is number one on mine. I can handle a lot of things, but not that. You do it again and I swear to God I will walk away from whatever it is that’s left of our relationship and I won’t ever look back. Do you understand me?”

  I don’t realize I’ve completely turned around and that I’m staring at Colin head-on until I finish speaking and his mouth is gaping. I narrow my eyes at him and he shuts his mouth quickly.

  “I don’t understand. What exactly is your problem with that word?” he asks, and the innocent puppy expression he wears tells me that he really doesn’t know why I’m so upset.

  I sigh, a bit frustrated by the situation, but more so because I hate that I even have to spell it out for him. Perhaps I should have a little more sympathy for him because of his recent circumstances, but I’m not going to excuse what he said when it truly hurt me.

  “I’m a seventeen year old girl who was raped at sixteen by her best friend, in turn got depressed, attempted suicide twice, and is currently on a mental health cocktail of medications to keep her mood stabilized. What the Hell do you think my problem is with the word ‘crazy’, Colin?” I sound completely exasperated by the time that I finish speaking.

  He extends his hands, and when I shake my head, he sighs.

  “I didn’t know,” he says quietly.

  “Well, you should have,” I snap back. “You don’t know what your little friend said to me, and if you had taken the time to listen to me instead of immediately rushing to her aid, maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. But you didn’t listen to me. You never do, and you called me crazy and when I left you didn’t even try to come after me. You chose her. Maybe you didn’t mean to. Maybe you didn’t know what else to do. But you stayed there with her after taking her side, and you didn’t come after me, and you’re the only one to blame for that one.”

  I don’t know what he’s thinking, but all of a sudden, I’m more than just hurt. I’m angry. I’m pissed. I hate that he’s made me feel this way, that I’d rather be sitting here in front of the lake house, my feet in the water, than at home with him.

  “I’m sorry, Nickayla.” His voice is small.

  “Of course you are. You’re always sorry these days. Why don’t you stop doing things to be sorry for?” I ask.

  I realize that he’s no idea where any of my outburst is coming from, but he’s about to.

  “I asked you to make Madilyn leave the day she arrived. You know what she said to me in Big Springs, and you know that I don’t want to have to deal with her. Ever. Yes, I understand that your dad died, and you needed a friend, but you could have still had your friend without having her stay in our apartment.”

  Colin’s eyebrows raise, and he leans back a little, like he wants to back away from me. “My dad died, Nic. Do you understand that? He’s dead. I’m sorry, but that takes precedence over your insecurities any day.”

  Insecurities?

  That word makes me almost as furious as the word crazy does.

  “All I’ve done is be good to you. All I’ve done is try to be strong for you. All I’ve done is accept your fucking ex. She is a racist, entitled, self-centered little bitch, and even though I feel that way about her, I waited patiently for her to leave and I tried to be civil. FOR YOU. But today she pushed me to my breaking point. And so did you.” I sigh. “I’m not insecure. Actually, I wasn’t, until you made me that way. Until you made me feel less than worthy.” I pause, shaking my head. “No. Scratch that. I let you. ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’ This is my fault.”

  I turn away from Colin, standing up and snatching my shoes off of the rock. I hold the heels of my shoes on my fingertips, and I start to walk away from him and toward the house.

  “Nickayla,” Colin says from somewhere behind me. “Nickayla, I’m sorry.”

  I make it to the house and reach for the doorknob. My hand encircles it, but I don’t turn it.

  “Okay. You’re sorry. Now go away,” I tell him flatly.

  He runs up behind me, standing next to me and placing his palm against the back of the door. He looks frightened, and I’m sure it’s because he’s never seen me this way, never seen me so emotionless.

  “Are you coming home tonight?” he asks.

  Home. What a foreign notion. It hasn’t felt much like a home in a long time.

  “Maybe.”

  “Nickayla.” My name sounds like a plea as it escapes his lips, and I almost give in. Almost. “You have to forgive me.”

  I nod. “You’re forgiven. Now go away.”

  He moves to stand in front of me, and I close my eyes as I take a deep breath.

  I’ve become the queen of pushing people away, but I never expected I’d ever do it to Colin. And yet, I’m standing here, doing exactly that, because I can’t think of any other way to be right now.

  “This is private property, and you’re trespassing. Please leave.”

  I make my way past him, tur
ning the doorknob and walking inside. I slam the door on him without looking back, and the minute I feel like the coast is clear, I slide down the length of the door, bringing my knees up to my chest as I bow my head and fucking cry.

  Fifteen.

  After my freakout, I decide to go to my parents’ house. I know I want to go anywhere but home, and I’m not ready to talk to Mich about this because if I do, she’ll flip the Hell out first and ask questions later. And I don’t want to get her involved unless I feel like whatever this problem we’re having is serious.

  I unlock the doors and walk right through them like I never left in the first place, and I don’t even announce my arrival because it’s not my mom or even my dad who I want to see. I walk upstairs with purpose, and when I reach the room I want to enter, I don’t even bother to knock.

  I came here to see my sister.

  Nomi is laid across her bed on her stomach, cell phone in hand, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. I stand in the doorway, arms folded across my chest as I watch her continue to text whoever she’s texting, completely oblivious to my presence. I step further into the room, walking over to her desk and leaning against it. My sister looks up at me and she grins, sitting up immediately.

  “Hey! I didn’t even hear you come in!” she exclaims, patting the space on the bed beside her.

  I sigh, shaking my head at her invitation to join her on the bed.

  “I didn’t come just for a visit. I came because…I need you to braid my hair.”

  Her eyes widen, and she nods.

  When we were younger girls, we would take turns braiding each others’ hair after a shampooing, and we’d have the most intimate, serious girl talks while doing it. Ever since then, whenever either of us needed to talk about something that we thought was serious, we would tell the other that we needed our hair braided. Those few words were enough to stop the world spinning on its axis in our eyes.

  “Okay,” she said. “Come on.”

  Wordlessly, I follow her into the bathroom across the hall, stopping momentarily to grab a towel for my hair out of the linen closet. My sister grabs the rolling computer chair from her room and places a towel along the edge of our stand-alone sink. I prop myself in the chair, leaning my head back as Naomi runs the water.