Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  “Love betrays you; anger strengthens you. Channel your anger and nothing can touch you. Not grief or guilt or any person. You have a lot to be angry about, Scar. Just focus on that.”

  Chapter 3

  Shotgun

  “The Fixer” by Pearl Jam

  [Present]

  “You’re a girl, right?”

  I made a face at Vance that said, Yeah. A girl who could kick your ass.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said. “You know, guy to girl?”

  “No,” I said blandly.

  He continued, unfazed. “What would you want for an anniversary gift?”

  An anniversary? I chewed the corner of my cheek in thought. I’d never really been big on gifts. I had only celebrated one anniversary before… with Miles. We got dressed up and went out for a fancy dinner. Quite honestly, I would have been fine if we’d skipped the expensive restaurant altogether and just got coffee cakes at the Starbucks where we met.

  I tried to think about what I knew of Vance, but all I had was his love of fishing and music. “Maybe… make her a mixed CD of her favorite songs.”

  His head tilted and he looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was serious. “I think she’ll want something more than that. It’s our four-year anniversary.”

  “Four years?” I shrieked. At eighteen, I couldn’t even conceive of a teenage relationship lasting that long.

  He nodded. “I should probably spring for Tiffany’s. Right?”

  “Who the hell is Tiffany?”

  He released a quick burst of laughter. But when I remained serious he cleared his throat.

  “Tiffany’s is a jewelry store. Exclusive sterling silver, heart pendants, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh.” Didn’t really sound like I was missing out on much.

  His amused grin made me self-conscious. “What?” I said. Why was he looking at me like that?

  “Come on, Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Isn’t that movie like a rite of passage for girls?”

  I scoffed rather stupidly. Of course I’d heard of the movie but I had never seen it, and always assumed it was about a restaurant. “Well that’s what you get for coming to me for advice. I’m sure if your girlfriend is into that sort of thing, she will love whatever expensive name brand accessory you decide to buy her.”

  “I like spoiling her,” he insisted. “It makes her happy.”

  I got it. My old friends had liked pretty things, too. Designer shades, expensive jeans and shiny jewelry. But none of that had ever been important to me. I liked my CD idea; it seemed much more personal than some standardized silver pendant. Especially if the guy put a lot of thought into the songs to make it special. “Music makes me happy,” I offered. “And I’m sticking to it.”

  Was that cheeky grin permanently etched on his face? “I see that. Well, one day some lucky guy will find it incredibly easy to shop for your anniversary.”

  Ugh.

  When the bell over the door chimed I was glad to have a reprieve from that conversation.

  The person who walked in was a smartly dressed girl with sandy blond hair and a dazzling smile. Correction: She didn’t so much walk into the shop, she glided.

  “Summer Elliott!” Vance greeted the girl with a matching grin and leaned on the counter. “What a surprise!”

  Summer was another fellow employee at Mooshi Treatery. I’d met her when I was first hired on. Due to her busy social life, she typically worked morning hours, which meant our shifts together were pretty limited.

  “Hey, you! Cole mentioned something about fishing this weekend.”

  “He did, huh?” he winked. “Thanks. Tell him I’m in.”

  A wink, too? Okay. Maybe he’s just flirty like that with everyone.

  Her answering smile sparkled, then she turned to me. “Hi Scar. How are you liking it here at Mooshi?”

  I shrugged. “It’s pretty easy.”

  And it was. I needed a job without meticulous analysis or important projects hanging over my head. I could totally handle this pace—getting paid to zone out and eat free ice cream. Safe.

  “And Vance here isn’t being too bossy with you?”

  “Not really. He’s just a bit of a goober.”

  At that, Summer threw back her head gracefully, the sound of her laughter like tinkling bells. “A goober. That’s pretty funny.”

  “I guess.” It wasn’t that funny.

  “Aw, you wound me, Rosie,” said Vance, clutching his heart dramatically. “Why must you scorn our love?”

  “Rosie?” Summer asked, glancing between us with an amused look.

  “See what I mean?” I shook my head. “Goober.”

  This time she didn’t laugh. She just studied me up and down until she succeeding in making me uncomfortable.

  It didn’t take a mind reader to guess her thoughts. Little did she know, the old Scarlett might’ve gotten along great with someone like Summer. But the new me clashed in every capacity. She was pretty, polite and poised; I was all dark and unapproachable. She was likeable; most days I didn’t even like myself.

  Finally, she tilted her head in thought. “Scar, I have a very important question to ask you.”

  My brow furrowed. “Okay…”

  “When was the last time you had a manicure?”

  Didn’t see that one coming. “Um… prom?”

  * * *

  Somehow, I’d ended up with a different ride home that night, and—despite my protests—a detour.

  Making friends had never come naturally to me. Even before this year, I’d always been more introspective than outgoing. Not that I was antisocial, mind you. I suppose there was a fine line. I engaged in conversation when I was comfortable and the opportunity arose, but generally I didn’t seek it out. I’d found my one clique long ago and stuck with them for almost seven years, so I was a little rusty when it came to socializing.

  Pile on a whole new set of issues and the task proved to be daunting. I had now crossed the line from introverted to antisocial.

  I tried to contribute to the conversation with Summer, but most of the time my tongue felt huge and awkward in my own mouth, and the things I forced myself to say sounded stupid.

  Summer didn’t seem to mind though. She did just fine holding the conversation on her own. She talked about all kinds of girly things—clothes, makeup, dieting—and I had no clue how to relate to any of it. I hadn’t gone shopping or done my makeup in months. My diet consisted of whatever crap I could force myself to swallow on any given day. And waxing? Eff that.

  It was, however, nice not to depend on Vance for a change. Summer seemed like a handful, but she was significantly less intrusive overall.

  Her parents’ house was in a beautiful gated community even further north than mine. It was decorated in spring colors of light greens and lavenders with silk flowers in colorful vases. Vaulted ceilings and shiny marble floors were accompanied by large windows and long drapes. A crystal chandelier dominated the elegant dining room.

  She led me through the pristine home to her meticulously organized bedroom, and pulled out a plastic container, its contents jumbling around.

  “I have every color you could possibly imagine. Thirteen different shades of pink alone. I even have glitter, gemstones, oh and I saw on Pinterest—”

  “I’ll stick with black.”

  “Oh… yes, of course.” She appeared a little deflated that her vast variety of design ideas would go to waste, but recovered quickly. She rummaged through the little glass bottles until she found the shiny black one. Giving it a few good shakes, the tiny marbles mixed up the polish inside.

  “When was prom? A year ago? You’re going to need the full treatment. Cuticles… Buffing… Exfoliating… Usually I’d go into a spa for this kind of work, but you’re lucky because I have everything you’ll need right here!”

  She clipped. She filed. She shined. And she talked. It was the kind of small talk where the most substantial subject to discuss involved her glory days of cheerlead
ing in high school. Which was fine with me. I’d spent a great deal of time alone recently, so my share of conversational topics was pretty limited.

  Pictures hung all over her wall of friends at school, at the beach, at parties, cheer camp, and everywhere in between. One in particular caught my attention. It looked like a selfie of three people. I recognized Vance making a goofy face, of course. Summer was smiling brightly in the middle. And another boy’s face was cut off with just an ear and a bit of blond hair showing. They looked a little younger, but not much. There were trees in the background that reminded me of the canyons by my house.

  “Has Vance really had a girlfriend for four years?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes in a fond kind of way. “It’s really closer to three and a half. Cole and I have known him for way longer. Since we were all, like, six.”

  “Oh. Is Cole your boyfriend?”

  “Ew! Gross! No. Cole is my brother. My twin, actually. And Vance’s best friend. He used to work at Mooshi, too. Then he got a job taking reservations at some fancy schmancy hotel. He wears a suit to work every day now, but he will still always be my stinky brother. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m related to that butt!”

  It was the first time I ever heard a girl wearing a cardigan and pearls shout the word butt. And it totally made my night.

  I decided Summer Elliott was cool. She kinda reminded me of Lexi, except she wasn’t obsessed with boys. And she wasn’t a bitch.

  And duh—Colton Elliott. I vaguely remembered him from school. How did I not know he had a twin sister?

  “There. All done. Doesn’t that look much better?”

  I splayed my fingers and admired the perfectly painted nails. Admittedly, I hadn’t taken very good care of myself these last few months. Before tonight, if someone had asked me if I wanted a manicure, I would have told them I didn’t give a crap about that shit. But now that I was here, pampering myself a tiny bit, I realized it felt kinda… nice.

  “It looks great. Thanks Summer.”

  “Fabulous! Now, who did your dye job?”

  “Um… I did.”

  Her amused smile appeared again. “Well that certainly explains a lot. You missed a few spots underneath, and the color’s looking a little washed out.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you say we give this D.I.Y. thing another shot? There’s a drug store open twenty-four hours on Route 66.”

  I looked down at my nails again. It was great that she was taking my social deficiencies in stride, but I couldn’t help but feel like a project. Is that what everyone saw when they looked at me nowadays? Someone they felt compelled to help? That wasn’t what I wanted.

  I exhaled deeply. “I know what you must be thinking.”

  Her pretty face scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I know I’m a bit of a mess… I’m kind of awkward, and all this black… but you don’t have to do this.”

  She smiled kindly. “Oh, Scar… I’m getting carried away, aren’t I? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. My friend Kiki is in cosmetology school, and I thought we could help her out, too. That’s all.”

  “Oh.” I fiddled with a few stray pieces of hair. She was right. It was a crappy dye job. And the dry ends told me it was due for some care. What was the harm in it? “Okay. I guess that’d be fine.”

  * * *

  “Now it’s a party!” Kiki tossed up both hands upon her entrance. The girls squealed and hugged.

  Kiki was blessed with a head of hair to match her exuberant personality: bright orange layers flipped out around her chin, short enough to show off her huge gold hoops and lightly freckled skin. Green eye shadow made her sparkling eyes pop, obviously applied by a semi-professional.

  Kiki may have been attending cosmetology school, but she worked part time at Mooshi as well, sharing the majority of morning shifts with Summer. It was clear the ice cream shop loved hiring family and friend references because it seemed like every employee there was connected to somebody else.

  Arm in arm, the girls laughed and skipped down the driveway like they were off to the Emerald City. I felt out of place among them, dark and drab compared to their vibrancy. I shuffled behind, hands tucked in the front pocket of my hoodie. It was just a stop at the drug store, not sure where all that giddiness came from. I resented them for being so carefree. I envied them for it, too.

  “Shotgun!” Kiki called, ready to pile into the passenger side of Summer’s Lexus.

  I tensed, my skin prickling with sweat. I watched the smiling girls climb into the car, but couldn’t get my own feet to advance. No matter how I told myself I had nothing to worry about, I was fine, we were all fine, I couldn’t control my body’s physical reaction, kick-started by one little word.

  Summer looked up when she noticed I made no move towards the car. “You coming?”

  As if I weren’t awkward enough already.

  “I can’t—” I cleared my throat. “I… get carsick in the backseat.”

  Summer’s perfect brows puckered, but Kiki just smiled and grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. “Then you get permanent front seat privileges in Summer’s car,” she spoke up. Bless her.

  “Thank you.” I shot her an apologetic look, but she’d already let it roll off her shoulder.

  “Peachy keen, jelly bean, but only because you’re going to let me get my hands on these lovely locks!”

  “Locks?” I gulped. Now I was nervous.

  “Girl, you’re not fooling anyone with this look. Two words: cow… lick. Lay off the flat iron unless you want to totes fry your hair.” She gently pulled me towards the passenger seat. “Come on. I’ll assess the damage and see what we can do.”

  “You can trust her, Scar,” Summer added as we all buckled in. “She was best in class before I left the program.”

  “Beauty school dropout?” I asked, unable to resist.

  She shrugged, smiling at my joke. “What can I say? It wasn’t right for me. I just enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu. Now that’s my real calling… I’m going to be a pastry chef!”

  When we were on the road, Kiki leaned forward and showed off a picture on her phone. “What do you think? Cute, huh?”

  I shrugged in indifference, even though he looked like a tool to me.

  “Not another guy you met online,” Summer shot me a playful grin.

  “What? He’s totally nice!” Kiki gushed. “He goes to ULV and we’ve been emailing every night for three whole weeks!”

  “He looks great, Kiki,” Summer placated her. “Just be careful.”

  We drove a bit further before Summer spoke again. “He’ll come to his senses,” she said quietly, privately. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  “There. Jet Black. That’s the one.”

  As Kiki read the box I pointed to, her little freckled nose scrunched in disgust. “What did you do? Look for the cheapest brand in the whole store?”

  I shrugged, pressing my lips together and blinking. “That may or may not be true.”

  “Girl…” She shook her head, cropped orange waves sweeping across her face. “Let’s start with the basics. You want to avoid any dyes that contain ammonia. You want to put moisture in your hair, not dry it out. Here… I’ll pick the brand. You set on black?”

  “Yes.”

  “No streaks or highlights?”

  “No.”

  “Okie dokie artichokie.” She pulled a box off the shelf and handed it to me. “Don’t forget, after we do this, don’t wash your hair for twenty-four hours. And you do have a hydrating shampoo and conditioner, I assume?”

  “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Dang, girl! You have to take care of those curls! Follow me.” Without giving me much of a choice, she grabbed me by the wrist and led me further down the aisle towards the rest of the hair care products. She picked out a new shampoo and conditioner for me, as well as a hot oil treatment and some kind of mousse with “volumizing” on the label. I stared at it with barely con
cealed contempt. My hair already had too much volume. Why in the world would I need more?

  Carrying all the items in my arms, I began to feel overwhelmed. I should have stopped at the manicure. It was all a little too high maintenance for my taste, not to mention expensive. I still had a car to save up for.

  “Okay, look,” I said, dumping some items back on a random shelf. “This is all a bit much. I’m just going to get the dye today. Maybe aft…” Something caught my eye at the end of the aisle. Wait, was that…? I leaned to the side and squinted. “Gwen?”

  Startled, she turned towards us. Her dark eyes went wide with alarm behind her glasses.

  “Scarlett?” her voice was a tad off-pitch. Then she took in the girls standing next to me. “Kiki? Summer?”

  “Gwen!” the girls shouted and stampeded towards their coworker at full speed, sandwiching her in a giant hug.

  Gwen was noticeably less enthusiastic about running into us. She normally didn’t see anyone outside of work, except for her boyfriend. It started in high school after they began dating and took exclusivity to a whole new level. She stopped hanging out with us on weekends, and even quit the debate team so they could spend every possible minute together. She said real love made sacrifices. And I was happy for her.

  That all changed when she turned down her scholarship to Harvard Law.

  Anyone who knew Gwen knew Harvard had been her lifelong dream, and she worked her ass off to earn the four-point-three GPA that got her accepted. So we were all shell-shocked when our smart, driven friend gave it all up to stay close to her boyfriend and turn townie.

  Now the only thing Gwen wanted out of life was to marry Hunter and have his babies.

  Even so, a late night run-in at the drug store shouldn’t have made her look like this, like she was ready to bolt.

  “You okay, Gwen?” I asked, assessing.

  “I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth. Apparently we had switched roles tonight.

  “Where are you going with that gigantic tub of ice cream?” Kiki asked.