Young Writers Society

There is a prologue to this- https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work/notmaria/...

Mama used to tell me it was silly, to nickname everything I saw. She said it with a smile in her eyes and laughter practically falling from her upturned lips.

She doesn't tell me that it's silly, now. Maybe it's because I only because I say it in my head. Maybe it's because she doesn’t tell me anything anymore.

When I was six, I called the town we lived in Bliss. I liked the word, and I had just learned what it meant from reading an old dictionary that my father had left out. By the time I turned sixteen, I'd changed the name to Misery.

There's a baby book that Mama kept when she was pregnant with me. It has pictures of ultrasounds, lists of presents from my baby shower, and, my personal favorite, all the names that she thought about while naming me.

My sister, Haven, is older than me by twenty months. Mama said that she wanted our names to match, because we were so close in age that we might as well be twins. So she picked another name that was a concept. She calls them virtue names, but "haven" means sanctuary, and I don't really consider it a virtue. She named me Verity.

Before she decided, she made a list of all the virtue names she could find. On that list, at the very bottom, was Silence. Most of the time, I think she should've picked that instead. A verity is a truth, a standard, an undeniable statement. I've never been that bold or concrete.

Silence would've been much more accurate.

So that's who I am to myself. I nickname everyone and everything, so why not myself too?

I'd never been stumped on a nickname until Rex Kumar moved to Misery. He was instantly popular, despite the fact that there was no social hierarchy until he came. I mean, it was only third grade and it was a small town. Our great-great-grandparents had gone to school together.

And then Rex showed up.

Historically and literarily speaking, the nickname should've been obvious. His name meant "king", and he absolutely fit the profile. But there was something about him that was off, something that didn't quite fit.

It was the Monday after Homecoming when Rex became "the lonely king" in my mind. But my story started in the middle of the second week of school.

The day started off like any other, I suppose. Everyone had come back from their summer highs and for us seniors, it was crunch time. The counselor's office was booked, with a line outside. None of them had thought this far ahead last year, despite the urging of last year's graduating class and the administration. Colleges were being applied to and scholarships applied for, resumes filled out, and extracurriculars chronicled.

I was waiting in line beside my best friend, Lorelai. Her nickname came to me like a lightning strike. After all, "Lorelai" means she who lures men to their deaths using her voice. From the moment she introduced herself to me, I'd dubbed her Siren.

It was rather fitting.

Unlike the rest of my peers, I'd filled out early applications over the summer and had already signed and sent my letters of intent. My tuition, textbooks, room, and board were almost completely covered by the hundreds of small scholarships I'd applied for over the past three years.

I wasn't waiting in line for any reason of my own. My sole purpose was to take up space and respond to the conversation cues presented to me by Lorelai.

"Like, who does she think she is? It's ridiculous. He was obviously getting bored with her, and it's not like he cheated on her or anything. He broke up with her long before anything happened between us."

If "long" meant three hours, then the statement might've been accurate. But, of course, this was something I did not say.

"I understand why she's mad," Lorelai continued. "But really, it's not fair to attack me, in front of half the school no less. It's not my fault that he broke up with her. I don't make his decisions for him. He decided to end things between them, without any manipulation or urging from me. I told him that we were friends, nothing more, and that I would not be a homewrecker. And if something happened after they broke up, then it's none of her business. He doesn't belong to her."

I wanted to stand up for the poor girl that had been in tears in the cafeteria this morning. She hadn't exactly attacked Lorelai. She'd called her some names that I would never repeat, but they were muttered under her breath, and Lorelai had just smirked at her and thanked her for the compliments.

"Anyways, I'm not even mad at her. I just don't know why she chose now to speak up. It happened, like, last week. Plus, I'm done with him already. He was far too easy to catch. All I had to do was smile at him, like, twice, and he was all over me. He was so boring."

I giggled lightly. Despite her many faults, I loved Lorelai. Deep down, she was a lot more like me than people really knew. She craved human connections and wanted someone to stick around long enough to see that.

"Who do you have in mind?" I asked quietly.

She grinned wickedly. "Who do you think?"

Just like a scene from a movie, Rex Kumar decided that it was the moment to come walking through the office door.

Lorelai flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder and glanced at me. I took it as my cue to say something that would prompt a response from her.

"Should I have even asked?"

She laughed, perhaps a little louder than was rightly acceptable, but I threw a hasty smile on my face to match hers.

"No, probably not."

And I saw it work, right before my eyes. Rex halted in his tracks for a beat and his eyes followed the curve of her neck up to the tattoo of a crescent moon behind her ear.

The moment lasted for approximately one whole second, but it was definitely there. Lorelai stared at me, eyes not even flickering towards Rex. She was gauging his reaction by reading mine.

She smiled at the confirmation, but I could see the disappointment on her face. She was hoping that it wouldn't be quite so easy to grab his attention. After all, it hadn't been easy for the past five years that she'd been trying in between her other flings.

Rex passed us and walked right out of the office, but not before throwing a glance over his shoulder and flashing a brief smile at Lorelai.

She groaned. "Darn it. I'll have him by the end of the week."

I just shook my head and stepped forward as the line moved up. "You're actually terrible."

She grinned triumphantly. "Yeah, but you love me."

After the final bell rang and I said goodbye to Lorelai, I walked to the outer reaches of the student parking lot and waited for Haven to come pick me up.

My phone buzzed.

Haven: Can’t pick you up today, sorry

I sighed, adjusting my backpack strap and walking towards where Lorelai parked. As I suspected, she'd already left.

My cheeks heated and the area behind my eyes started to ache, as it always did before I started to cry. I took a deep, shaking breath and called my mom.

It rang for a while, and then went to voicemail. She was probably asleep.

"Hi, Mama. Haven can’t pick me up and I really need to get home. I don't want to bother you, but could you come and pick me up? Call me back when you get this."

I heard the sound of an engine behind me and I glanced over my shoulder as I hung up the phone.

"Hey," Rex was leaning across his console and looking at me thoughtfully. "Do you need a ride?"

The too-warm skin and pain in my head returned. I told myself not to cry and nodded. He opened the passenger door from the inside. "Come on. I'll take you home."

I hesitated for a moment, then looked away and clambered into his Jeep.

"You're Lorelai's friend, right?" He asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and maneuvering his car out of the parking lot.

I nodded, my gaze fixed firmly straight ahead.

"I feel bad, I don't know your name."

If he thought that I was going to take that bait, he was very, very wrong.

"You do know that you're going to have to tell me where to go, right? Talking is inevitable. You might as well tell me your name while you're at it."

He was going in the right direction for now, and I couldn't trust myself to talk without bursting out into tears. I'd always gotten unreasonably emotional in stressful situations, but I refused to cry in front of Rex Kumar.

A few minutes and deep breaths later, I finally looked at him. "Thank you. And turn left up here at the light."

"No problem. Are you going to tell me your name?"

"Verity."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "It's pretty."

"What?"

He stared at me like I had three heads. "Your name. It's pretty."

I narrowed my eyes. "Uh, thanks? Keep your eyes on the road."

"It was an honest compliment, Verity. I'm not trying to trick you."

I bit my lip and glanced out the window. "Okay. Take the next right."

The car was silent except for my directions until we got into my neighborhood.

"Which house is yours?"

Without thinking, I responded. "The blue one. But, uh, drop me off at that metal building over there."

As I started to open the door, I looked back at him. "Thanks again."

He ducked his head and I caught the edge of a blush on his cheeks.

I was so surprised that my personal filter broke for a moment. "Oh my gosh, are you blushing? This is actually the worst day of my life."

He glanced at me in surprise. "How exactly are those two related?"

I felt my own blush spread across my face, starting at the bridge of my nose and extending from my cheeks to my ears.

"Goodbye, Rex." I shut the door and walked towards the barn. He didn't drive off for a few more moments, during which I had to force myself not to look back.

I slid the heavy metal door open all the way. My grandpa was already there, 60's rock filling the air and the smell of sawdust and gasoline instantly relaxing me.

"How's my beautiful girl today?"

I grinned and pecked his sun-tanned cheek. "Good. How's my handsome grandpa?"

"Better now that you're here."

My grandparents are my heroes. They've been married for over forty years and I've never seen them fight or get mad at each other or anyone else. My grandpa is composed of wide smiles and graying hair and scarred, crinkling skin. My grandma is all bright green eyes and sugar cookie perfume and a smooth North Carolina accent.

"What are we working on today?" I asked, tossing my bag under the rough wooden work table.

For the past year, I'd been spending my afternoons in the shop with my grandpa fixing up an old, dented, pick-up that used to be my dad's when he was a teenager.

"Well, the part for the brakes just came in, so we need to install it and make sure that the rest of the brake system is working."

"Mmkay." I took another look at the brakes and gathered the tools we'd need. "Let's get started."

I walked through the front door of my house an hour later, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.

Just like my town, my house has a name. When everything changed and Bliss became Misery, I couldn’t change this. No matter how alone I felt in these walls, it didn’t change how perfectly golden my childhood was or the brief glimpses of that same happiness I’d had since.

Unlike my town, my house has an actual name- Morris. On the outside, Morris doesn’t look like much. He’s a squat bluish-gray rectangle with a silver star hanging off the front wall. On the inside, though, Morris is beautiful. His floors are real hardwood, a very light brown color, and his walls are a creamy off-white. Plants grow on every empty surface- courtesy of Haven- and his open shelves are filled with mismatched thrift store ceramics and the mason jars we use as glasses.

Morris was gorgeous, but at that moment, he was also silent.

I cautiously walked towards Haven's room, feeling like I was either walking on eggshells or landmines. I gently pushed the door open.

"Haven?"

She was curled up in her bed, staring at the wall. No tears lingered in her eyes or on her face, but her pillow was damp and the skin around her eyes was red.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly.

She nodded, but didn't acknowledge my presence in any other way.

"I'm sorry," I said, even though it wasn't my fault. I knew exactly what had happened. "I should've texted to remind you to tell Dad that you'd be home late."

She sighed, and the slightest bit of regret slipped into the exhale. "It's okay."

Her voice was strained, though, so I knew it wasn't really. I just couldn't do anything to change it. So I layed down on her lumpy mattress and contorted my body to fit like a puzzle piece against hers.

"Just one more year," I whispered into her hair. "Then we can leave."

Haven could've left last year, after she graduated. But she would've had to take out a student loan and she'd be alone, so she said that she would wait for me to graduate and get more scholarships while taking online classes from the local community college.

She didn't have to stay, but she did. I'd always thought that she did it more for me than for the sake of economy.

It took me a long time to get to sleep that night. Maybe it was because I felt the storm brewing on the horizon or because I was worried about Haven or my mom. But the obvious reason is much more likely- my dad was watching action movies on his brand-new surround sound system.

Long after the sounds of gunshots and explosions had ended, I got out of bed and sat in front of my window, letting the moonlight paint me silver.

Even after I got back under my comforter, I could still feel the impression of the cold hardwood floor on my mostly bare legs. I fell asleep with goosebumps on my legs and ice cubes in the place of toes.