It turns out the Better Aid Society is much bigger than a mod office and dorms. Every class has its own building and you had to walk about a mile to get to each one. I decided to skip yoga along with taekwondo and was now seated in Cafeteria Two: Barns and Nobel Café. Cynthia sat in front of me with a coffee, cinnabun, rice crispy, and a big cookie. I pretended to drop my schedule just to see how skinny she maintained. I sat back up and scooted my chair in to find Cynthia eyeing me.
“What?” I spat kind of harshly. I don’t know why, but it just came out that way.
“You missed Yoga and Taekwondo.” Cynthia stared at me. I didn’t know how to really reply, so I just sipped my water. “Em, you don’t get it. They take skipping seriously, the first day of skipping is usual, but if you make it a regular thing they will take it to serious matters.” She continued.
“Oh, really?” I challenged her, smirking. Cynthia waited for one of the supervisors to make their way past our table before answering.
“Well, you don’t understand. They’ll put you… I’ve-”
“Cynthia!” A voice interrupted her. At that moment, I sighed not being able to hear what the consequences are for missing classes. We both looked and saw a boy walk over. He wore a big grin to the side of his mouth and walked with a pep in his step. His hair ranged from midnight black to bleached blonde and everything in between. It swept his eyes and ended around his ears which were both pierced. He wore tight, black pants and a soft pink polo which accented his gray eyes. This boy knew fashion.
“Avery!” Cynthia cried out, grinning along with the boy. He embraced her in his fairly muscled arms and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Now how in the hell does someone find a boy friend in a place like this?’ I smiled up at them as Cynthia turned to face me, “Em, this is my boyfriend Avery.” At that moment, I recognized Avery from the pictures on Cynthia’s desk.
“Hello, Avery.” I greeted as he wrapped his arms around Cynthia’s waist and rested his chin on her small shoulder. He smiled- from the side of his mouth again -and waved.
“Nice to meet you, Em.” When he spoke it came out the side of his mouth also. He turned Cynthia’s waist so she was facing him, “I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, but we were in the middle of an important con-”
“No! That’s okay, you guys go ahead and talk, I’m out of here.” I smiled and got up to walk away. Cynthia looked unsure, but then quickly returned the smile and waved.
I made my way up the long path to the dorms. This whole mile long walk thing was getting pretty old. I could finally realize why kids stayed in their dorm rooms all day. I dug my hands into my sweat pant’s pockets and trudged up the hill’s path. I felt a sudden vibration in my pants and pulled out my winter-green EnV. ‘Mother Dearest’ flashed across the screen and I pressed the ‘talk’ button.
“Hello, mom.” I greeted as politely as I could for her.
“Stop faking it, squirt.” I heard a deep male’s voice on the other end of the line and laughed.
“Hey, Graham.” Graham Porter was my step brother that my mother often abducted from my father. He was 18 and one of my best friends.
“Hey kiddo. I heard your mom sent you into the whack-house. That sucks, dude.” He cooed.
“Yeah, no kidding. Come visit me?” I asked, walking under a willow tree to sit down.
“I wish. That’s about a three hour drive from LA. Anyways, I’m calling because my- our dad is going to come visit you and your mom is out for tea. I stole her phone to call you to tell you.”
“…What happened to your phone? And what’s the big deal about dad visiting?”
“Your mom took my phone away. Also, she doesn’t what dad seeing you. So don’t tell her anything. Listen, I think she’s home. But, I love you and I miss you. Bye.” And with that, Graham clicked off. I rested my head against the old bark and groaned. Why must my mother always make things complicated?
“Tough life, right?” I looked up and saw a short girl, about five foot three, with pink spiky hair. She had a narrow face and big dough blue eyes. Her nose was small along with the rest of her pale body. She wore big black combat boots that extended up to her knee. A few inches above that was her dark, camouflage school girl skirt and a white tank top. Her hands had spiky bracelets, and black leather knuckle gloves. Her blue eyes were surrounded in about three layers of black and her face had numerous piercings: lip, nose, eyebrow and one gauge in each ear. Chains hung from her tiny neck and even though she was so tiny, she looked intimidating. She sat down next to me, crossing her extended legs.
“Well,” I gulped, a little scared of the girl, “In this place, what life isn’t?” Her laugh sounded tough and like it took someone funny to make her actually laugh.
“So, what’s your name?” She asked. As she talked, I could see the bright red piercing in the middle tongue. ‘Damn’ I thought.
“Em. You?” I asked, fixing my crimson hair into a sloppy ponytail.
“Ellie.” She stated blankly. I forgot to put my phone back in my pocket since my hands were still fixating with my hair which caused Ellie to grab it. She flipped it open and started rummaging through it. After a few seconds of waiting patiently, she tossed the phone back on my lap and I looked down at screen. ‘Tough Life’ was at the top of a contact detail and a number under it. I looked quizzically at her and she showed me her silver Motorola. “So, what is Em short for, Emma?”
“Nah. It’s not short for anything just a name. What about you, Ellie? Short for Eleanor?” I teased. She rose both her eyebrows at me. ‘Shit, you pissed her off’ I thought. Then she laughed and responded,
“Wow, you’re good. It is actually.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll tell you my embarrassing name: Marchetta.” As soon as I told her my name, Ellie started laughing uncontrollably.
“Damn! Who’s you’re mother, Queen fucking Elizabeth?” I was a bit taken back at her cursing and remark, but I let it slide and smiled.
“No, just a descendant of the woman.” I winked as I went along with the joke.
“You’re alright kid. How are you anyways?” She asked, looking at me intently.
“Ugh, sixteen.” I replied, “You?”
“Meer age of nineteen and a half.” No freaking way. Nineteen? The girl’s height made her look somewhere around twelve! “Don’t let the height fool you, there are no more air pockets in my knuckles.” She smirked.
I didn’t get the joke at first, but then I remember my mother once took me to the doctors to see if I stopped growing. He placed my hand under a machine to see if I had any air pockets in my knuckles. If there wasn‘t, I stopped. But, there was. He said I should stop around five six. I was now five eight. “That’s chill.”
“Yeah, knowing I’m going to be five four all my life is exhilarating!” Ellie sarcastically jumped for joy.
“Eleanor?” We both glanced up at peach colored skin, wheat blond hair Cynthia. I looked at Ellie, then back at Cynthia.
“Oh. Hey, dyke.” Ellie spat. I looked at her with disbelief and then back up at Cynthia who’s eyes were tearing up.
“You’re… you’re back.” She hesitated with saying, sniffling.
“Best believe it, lesi.” Ellie carried on with the lesbian nick names. With each thing she said, Cynthia looked like she got smacked in the face with a brick wall. She lowered her head as tears seemingly made their way down her face and started for the dorms. I looked at Ellie with an a-jarred mouth who shrugged and started laughing. I turned my attention back to Cynthia who amazingly was out of sight. I got up and ran after her.
The elevator doors opened up to my floor and I darted the corner to find Cynthia jamming her key numerous times into the door, crying. I felt sorry for her and ran up. Her eyes were clouded and didn’t bother to look at me. I grabbed the key from her and tried it, but the light on the door flashed red. I looked at the card to see it scratched, bent, ripped, and blood drops stained into it. I sighed and pulled out my key to open the door. Once in, Cynthia rushed to the bathroom and locked herself in.
“Cynthia? Please open up. Please explain to me what went on back there.” I pleaded, lightly knocking on the door. After a few minutes of silence, I walked out of the door to my tutoring classes.
I woke up with a jolt, well, someone jolting me. I stared into the face of Cynthia, the only light coming from the moon through the floor to ceiling window. I turned my attention to the clock on the wall and read 1:32 AM.
“What?” I hissed, angry and confused.
“I need to explain about Ellie… before she does anything.” Cynthia whispered.
