There is something about this – this whole situation, which is too familiar to be known. I should have known no one would have welcomed me home in open arms, I kind of did, but I was too busy trying to runaway again, I didn’t really think about it a whole much. I’ve seen this all before, though. On TV.
I believe it was Buffy.
Which is why I don’t come down from my room, I’m just sitting on my bed, after breakfast a day or two after what happened with Connor. I don’t really know. I need a calendar. I thought if I went to breakfast, tried to get cleaned up, to act like the old Lucy, it would be okay, at least with Connor, I know I can’t fix my parents.
And my parents aren’t bad or horrible people… just people. With flaws as any other mankind, they make mistakes, I get that, but still, they’re parents. Isn’t it there job to point out when we do stupid things? Not the other way around? They are two normal people; my dad is the manager at a call center for a bunch of lawyers, something like that. I don’t know, he makes good money, enough. Mom is a preschool teacher, I think because she wishes we were all in preschool, because she wasn’t always that, when we were first born, she was a stay at home mom, but then she started to work part time at stores, and then she decided to use her abundant work of life skills as a teacher, when she should just stick to doing hair.
Breakfast was horrible though, I work up early today, full knowledge that Connor and Jessie are in school, and I took a shower, which Jessie got mad at me at because she wanted to use the blow dryer and I took too long. I had slept in my tank top and underwear, so I just pulled on some jeans and a Pink Floyd shirt before I headed down into the Dragon’s Dungeon.
Things looked… normal, from where I stood. Dad was drinking coffee, standing up, as he read the newspaper, he was facing the counter, standing right next to the fridge, across from him, beyond the counter was the small, square table where Connor and Jessie sat, doing homework and eating cereal and oatmeal. Mom was scrubbing dishes from last night; she usually falls asleep at the thought of anything tiring. Something’s never change.
The first thing I did was kiss mom on the cheek, which startled her, and all she did was look at me, so I recoiled and walked past dad, who gave me a look as he sipped his coffee, one ear plug of his iPod in as I opened the fridge door, and poured myself a glass of orange juice and made myself a strudel.
Things were silent.
That’s never good.
“Lucy?” Jessie asks as she enters the room, slowly, the door still in between us as I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, my iPod in as I’m reading a book – a school book, I have nothing else besides Rachel Cohn, Melissa De La Cruz and Laurie Stolarz.
“Yeah,” I said, taking one ear bud out, and Jessie looked kind of scared, with her big brown eyes wide and all. She was looking… weird. She had on makeup, pink lipstick and purple eyeshadow, eye liner. Her dark blond – sometimes brunette hair was in two braids, and was shorter than I remembered. I couldn’t believe it, eight months and she’d grown up. Everything I say, think and hear tastes like silver, tin, iron. Like too much is too lethal. That’s how everything feels, and yet I still think it.
“Um, Chloe’s here,” and I can’t help my body relax after that. Chloe Eveanna Henley, my best friend… or ex best friend. Who knows if she came to yell or rejoice. Probably both, knowing Chloe. God, I miss her, just at the thought of her. She was always the best girl to be around with, her and J.J., and J.J was always the down to earth, sarcastic one while Chloe, only five four, was hyper off pixie sticks half the time, drinking Monster and shit, ready and willing to do anything. A lot of guys liked her for it.
Looking down is a mistake, because I see the trunk of mine at the end of my bed, with the old, fringe blanket that Chloe and I always used to go and use to tan, even though I couldn’t if my life depending on it, I would always be porcelain, while she could look like a Filipino princess or something.
“No,” is what I say at first. As if that should be enough, and I take both ears buds out and look up at Jessie, who looks confused, almost sad. And I am. Too tired to be filled with so many emotions, I can already feel them come on, and it’s too much. I lay back, my head on my arm as I curl up, the old summer blanket curled around me.
It’s dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon as Chloe and I sit opposite each other on my bed. The spirit board in between us.
“What should we ask?” She questions, her hands on the pointers.
“No use, you’re just going to move the pointer, anyway,” J.J. said, she was lying on the floor, half asleep and begrudged as she stayed away from all things mystical, I didn’t believe, and didn’t want to do it, but Chloe did, and that was enough, even after long protests.
“Shush, you’ll make the ghosts envious,” Chloe shushed.
“Ghosts are jealous?” I asked, confused all of a sudden.
“They are in the movies,” Chloe shrugged, so we went with it. “Okay… Will Lucille ever lose her V card?” She asked as she started to move the pointer.
“Chloe!” Ugh, she can be such a bastard child sometimes, even though she was anything but, she lived with both of her parents, Frank and Kelly Henley, and she had one older brother, his name either Riley or Frankie, maybe Caleb. I don’t know, he’s never around, he was in college, but dropped out, and too ashamed to come forward, as Chloe says.
“Soon,” Chloe spells out slowly. “Alright, it’s settled, we got to find you a man, and stick to it!” Laughing, I tackled her into tickles and a hug before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Hanging out downtown, sitting on the ledge of the fountain, I brush my fingertips with the water. We’re both in the eighth grade, wearing huge ass sun glasses, wearing shit we shouldn’t. Chloe in her black crinkled tank top that had a push up bra inserted in it, as if she needed it, with nice 34C’s. She’s in dark jeans, the opposite of mine, but I’m wearing a shirt of hers, so it’s black, like hers.
She smiles as some high school guys walk past, and they smile back. This is the first bat, as Chloe says.
“Come on,” she says, taking my hand, dragging me along with her. “Hey!” She screams after them, and they turn willingly around to see us, and she brushes hair out of her place as she says her next words. “You guys got some pot?” And they smiled at each other, more than willing for this.
“God,” I mutter to myself, looking away.
“Lucy,” she reprimands, squeezing my hand, and she gives me that look. The one that says Stop Acting As If You Got a Dildo Stuck in Your Ass. I know I don’t, I’m pretty sure I’d know if I had, so I just go along with it, and then when we get so deep she’s forgotten that I’m there, I sneak out and sit by myself, smoking cigarettes I stole from one of the guys.
I’m not sure which one.
I’m not sure I care.