OH BOY LOOK WHO'S BACK AFTER A 3 MONTH HIATUS.

Nonetheless: time doesn't seem to wear away my kick for cliche romance, so here I am. I actually like the "Doomed from the Beginning" trope a lot, so I hope to do it a justice. I've actually been trying to write this story for a solid year (even while I was in the midst of writing The Talking Head Game) through different variations, but this is the first one I've been able to commit myself to. It's gonna be a wild ride, kids.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SWEARING, MENTAL ILLNESS, AMPUTATION.


Minor Inconveniences

Let me tell you a story you've heard a thousand times before.

Let me tell you all about how I'm a troubled fuck-up, and about how my mom's depressed, and about how my dad wised up to all these little red flags before any of us and hightailed his ass into the arms of a nicer, more conventional family when I was just fourteen.

Let me tell you about how I'm working double-shifts under the table at a local family owned restaurant because my mom had a fucking mental breakdown in the middle of her office, and now she's dependant on disability checks that pay less than minimum wage.

Let me tell you about how it wasn't always this way. Because I used to be one of those kids in the gifted classes, and travel teams, and drama clubs. Because my dad used to take me to the ocean to teach me how to swim. Because my mom used to go out every weekend to buy new rugs for the floors and new paintings for the walls. Because I used to have dreams, and aspirations, and talents, and all those other stupid things that eventually became sadder to hold on to than to let go.

But that's enough about me. Let me tell you about her. Let me tell you about how she had blonde hair that looked like washed up sunlight, and let me tell you about how her eyes were a brilliant shade of sea-foam green.

Let me tell you about how she never really fixed me, but rather made me want to fix myself.

Let me tell you about how I met the dying girl on a bleak Tuesday morning while I was drinking a stale cup of coffee and driving my car to school in the pouring rain.

I hated my car like any ungrateful teenager might. It was an old mossy green SUV with no air conditioning, manual locking systems, and gas mileage that would give any environmentalist an ulcer.

My dad bought it for me the day I got my license and promised to pay the insurance until I graduated so long as I didn't get into any trouble with the local highway patrol.

I guess the car was some kind of sick attempt at an apology for abandoning my mom and me for his new family in the richer neighborhood up north.

Him, probably: "Gee, I'm real sorry you guys are living in a literal cigar box, but I'm sure giving you this neat '99 gas-guzzler will absolve me of all guilt and responsibility!"

Ha. As if.

Anyways, I usually walked to school- partly to save on gas and partly to spite my dad- but on this particular day it was raining harder than it had in months, and I already suffered enough at school without being drenched on top of everything else.

My car dredged through at a steady pace of ten-and-a-half miles per hour, and though my wiper blades were at their highest setting and my headlights were on full-tilt, I could hardly see the road right in front of me.

There didn't seem to be another car on earth as I drove down the flooded streets. My only company was the six A.M. darkness, and the gentle buzz of a morning talk show on my radio.

I checked the digital clock display on my dashboard and cursed.

My foot twitched on the gas reluctantly, as if it had a particular itch to it, and my car jerked to life. My mind began to twist excuses for my late arrival over in my head, and suddenly, I was careening down the road at an impressive ten miles over the posted speed limit. Huge wakes of rainwater flew from my tires like outstretched wings, soaring through the air before crashing to the ground like mini-typhoons.

Unfortunately, I didn't see her until after I'd already smashed her in the face with a metric fuckton of rainwater.

It was the intrusive glare of a reflective yellow raincoat that caught my eye as I drove past and summoned a monstrous wave upon her tiny form. I winced as I realized what I'd done, but I couldn't stop. At the speeds I going, slamming on the breaks would only send my car reeling out of control.

That- and I simply didn't care.

In fact, I actually found the entire thing kind of funny in a pathetic, mean-spirited sort of way.

I drove on to school, not easing my foot from the gas until I was already in the parking lot. I cruised past the front lot, and inched around to the back where they kept the dumpsters and utility doors.

I eased into my spot and put my car in park. Technically, the spot didn't really belong to me. I hadn't reserved it or anything. But the space nearest the south entrance was practically mine by default since I was the only person willing to Parallel Park every morning into the crawlspace.

To be frank, I was probably the only kid who even wanted to go through all the extra effort just to be ten feet closer to the doors.

I guess it just felt nice to have something to myself. Like, even if I lost everything, I could still know that something on this miserable Earth was still mine- no matter how petty and virtually useless that thing might be.

I braced myself before grabbing my bag and hopping out of my car. I sprinted to the utility doors and yanked at them, only to find them bolted shut. I cursed and ripped at them again to no avail.

Fuck. I forgot. They locked the utility doors after the tardy bell.

Finding it useless to bang at the metal doors and bruise my knuckles any further, I turned and ran around the building until I came to the front entrance. Rain pounded down on me as I stumbled on the wet concrete, my eyes squinted and my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I burst through the open door, feeling as if I had just emerged from a cold, dirty shower.

My clothes clung tightly to my body, and I shivered immediately as a wall of the school's air conditioning slammed into me.

My mind immediately went to the poor girl I drenched only ten minutes earlier.

I would say that my soaked and suffering ass was a result of Karma, but that would imply that I believed in such a universal mechanism when, in fact, I didn't. See, I couldn't bring myself to believe in Karma because I couldn't fathom what horrible thing I'd possibly done to deserve the absolute mess that was my life.

I trudged up the stairs towards my first period class. Late as I was, nobody was really in the halls save for the underpaid vice principal, Ms. Amarillo. In all honesty, she wasn't so much of a vice principal as she was a glorified hall monitor.

I paid her no mind as I walked past, wringing out my clothes as I went.

"Miss Lazuli, might I ask where you're supposed to be?" Ms. Amarillo cleared her throat obnoxiously. She had this ugly shit-eating grin on her face, like she was one tardy slip away from having the pleasure of expelling me. I mean, I guess she practically was, but at the same time I would've appreciated a little faith from the educational staff.

"First period? I'm going back there right now. I went to the bathroom and forgot my pass, sorry," I shrugged, hardly looking up to meet her eyes.

"You look awfully wet," Ms. Amarillo frowned. I felt a barbed wire squeeze around my heart, and produced possibly the flimsiest lie ever concocted by a sentient being.

"Crazy toilet water accident, ma'am. I think all this rain's backing up the pipes. Now I really have to get to first period."

Ms. Amarillo definitely wasn't buying it. I didn't blame her.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I accompany you there, then?" Ms. Amarillo said, her sickly sweet voice betraying her incredulity.

"Sure."

Ms. Amarillo smiled as if she were a cat watching her mouse inch towards the mousetrap. She attached herself to me like some horrible parasite, and we walked side-by-side to my first period. My soaked jeans already started to chafe my thighs, and my body was wracked with shivers.

I forced myself not to wince.

My first period was health- a class so uncared for by the staff and students that it was unceremoniously dumped into the old PE teacher's office. It was now crammed into fifty-by-fifty cement block we called the All-In Room. It had no stable ventilation, and it had the faint air of sweat perpetually sponged into the walls as the main gym was a mere ten feet from the entrance.

I offered my classmates a tired smile as I shuffled in.

"I'm back from the bathroom. Sorry I forgot the pass," I announced. Ms. Amarillo's shiny stiletto pumps clipped the backs of my tennis shoes as I dragged my feet across the room to my seat.

The health teacher, a stout, floral-smelling woman by the name of Mrs. Wilt, stared at me in confusion for a moment before her gaze found Ms. Amarillo. Suddenly, her eyes lit up like a Rockefeller Christmas tree.

"It's not a problem at all, Lapis!" she chirped.

I had two things going for me in that moment: the fact that Mrs. Wilt loved me like a niece and the fact that she hated Ms. Amarillo like an in-law.

Ms. Amarillo looked unimpressed. "She was here for attendance?" she questioned, her brow raised in bored disbelief.

"Unless I'm going batty at thirty, I believe she was. Is there something else you needed, Patti?"

Ms. Amarillo glared daggers into me before shaking her head stiffly. "Not at all. My sincerest apologies for interrupting. Carry on."

I sighed, slumping down in my seat. I sat right next to Mrs. Wilt's desk, which meant that I wasn't ever able to sneak texts or play games on my phone under the table, but it didn't really matter because I had very little desire to. Health fascinated me, and Mrs. Wilt ensured that I was always too busy in class to bother with distractions anyways.

She distributed some papers about the human reproductive system for the class to read over and as she handed out mine, she stopped and met my eyes.

"Lapis, why on Earth were you late this time?" She asked, exasperated. "And Lord Almighty, why do you look like you took a shower with your clothes on?"

"It's a torrential downpour out there," I explained. "I had to drive like, ten miles an hour because I couldn't see."

"Oh, thank goodness," Mrs. Wilt sighed. She looked me over. "You're soaked, dear. Would you like to change in my office?"

"Yes, please," I said, relief flooding my frozen veins.

"Alright. And here, take the pass this time."

She winked at me, and I laughed. And then I felt a twist in my gut, and I stopped laughing. I took the pass, thanked her, and walked out the door like a windup toy some child had twisted far too tightly.

Mrs. Wilt's office was connected to the girl's locker room, meaning I didn't have to walk far to get my change of clothes. I had two outfits, actually. I had my regular gym clothes that consisted of the world's ugliest shirt (a brown crewneck with a bright pink "I HEART EMPIRE CITY" logo) with a pair of shorts that still fit from middle school, and then I had my unused cross-country uniform I got freshman year.

I opted for my cross-country uniform if only because it had long pants, and I was especially freezing at the moment. I pulled on the unwrinkled black sweatpants and teal shirt, examining myself in Mrs. Wilt's mirror.

I'd been so excited to join cross-country that I'd bought all my equipment early, and I'd picked up a summer newspaper route so I had a chance to work on my running. Now, wearing the team's bright colors felt like a cruel joke.

Sighing, I tied the drawstring of my sweatpants and returned to class.

And that's when I saw it. A neon yellow raincoat standing in the middle of the classroom.

The girl wearing it was so small that she was practically swallowed whole by her clothing. I clenched my fists and hoped to god that she didn't see my face when I ripped past her in the dry safety of my car.

I took my seat, and printed my name at the top of my worksheet, eyes never wandering from the bold black text.

"Lapis," Mrs. Wilt hummed. I looked up, but said nothing. "Could you be a dear and lend Peridot some spare clothing? She walked in the rain all the way here, and I hate to see her drenched like this."

Believe me, if it were anyone else asking me to give my clothing to an absolute stranger, I would've declined in an instant. I would've lied. I would've made up any bullshit excuse possible to avoid having to be anywhere nearby that unfortunate girl.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Mrs. Wilt. And she was looking at me with huge, hopeful eyes, and I already felt bad for ruining this girl's day, and I had no choice but to relent.

"Fine. Alright. Okay," I triple-confirmed, because that's what I do when I don't want to do something I'm going to do anyways.

"Wonderful! For being such a generous friend, I'll exempt you from this worksheet, alright?" Mrs. Wilt winked at me.

"Alright," I said, smiling back.

I looked up at Peridot and frowned. It was my first time seeing her up close, and I studied her face for a moment. She had big blue eyes, angular cheeks, and round dorky glasses that perched upon the bridge of her sharp upturned nose like some domesticated bird. I tried to imagine these features twisted into a horrible expression of shock and rage like the one she might've worn when I hit her with a fat sheet of rainwater.

I stood up, threw my bag around my shoulders, and started walking out of the room. I didn't check back to make sure Peridot was following behind, because frankly, I didn't care.

Eventually, I heard her as she began to clamber down the stairs leading down to the locker rooms. She was taking a disproportionately long time to ease down the flight of ten or so steps. I stopped by the door of the girl's room to observe her.

"Do you need help or something?" I asked, tapping my fingers against my thighs.

"No!" Peridot snapped as if I'd said some horrible slur. Her voice was high pitched and scratchy, and I instantly decided that I didn't like it.

"God," I muttered, watching her take on another set of stairs. This time, she moved slightly faster, her entire body teetering with effort as she pushed herself to clear the stairs in a decent amount of time.

She grumbled under her breath as she stumbled down the last few steps and waited for me with an expectant air to her expression. Rolling my eyes, I yanked open the heavy wooden door and held it for her. She hobbled in, with me following close behind.

I lead her to my locker, which was full-sized despite the fact that full-sized lockers were usually reserved for the sports teams. I unlocked it and found my gym clothes balled up on the metal floor. I plucked them up and tossed them to Peridot, who inspected them with nothing short of growing disgust and horror.

"Shorts?" Peridot yelped, her voice cracking.

"They're gym clothes," I said matter-of-factly. "Why, is there a problem with them?"

"N-no, it's just-," Peridot stared at the clothes. "I can't wear these. Take them back." She tossed me the shorts and twisted the fabric of my t-shirt between her bony fingers.

"Your jeans are soaked," I frowned, staring at her baggy, three-sizes-too-big bootcuts. They flooded around her ankles and consumed the upper half of her shoes.

Peridot said nothing, eyes aimed at the floor miserably.

"What, are you one of those weird girls who are too anal about their appearance to wear certain shit?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Shut up, you clod! I don't care about how I look, okay? It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I just don't like shorts! Are you fucking dense?"

I held back the urge to slam her into the lockers and beat her. "Too fucking bad," I snarled through my teeth. I whipped the shorts at her, and they hit her face with an audible thwap. "Put them on, and quit bitching."

"Fine," Peridot squeaked out, scurrying away to change in peace. I released a breath of hot air and sat down on one of the benches that lined the lockers.

I opened up my phone. Three messages: one from a friend, two from my general manager. Seeing as Amethyst rarely had anything important to say, I opted to check my manager's messages first.

Carol: I know you need the hours, but I'm afraid I can't have you coming in tonight. Inspection is today, and you understand why we can't have you around for that. I apologize for the short notice, and I'll let you make up the hours on Sunday if you'd like.

Carol: Your hours on Sunday (if you'd like to accept them) are 1 P.M. to close. Please reply soon!

Me: sunday sounds fine. good luck with the inspection.

I sighed and dug my fingers into my temples, rubbing stiff circles to alleviate the crazy feeling of vertigo making my head spin like a vinyl record.

It wasn't as if I were anything less than the average worker. I dressed well, worked well, and offered customers a mandatory level of politeness. The only issue was that my employment technically wasn't lawful. Not only did I work more than a minor was legally able to- I also worked under the table, meaning that I got my checks directly and didn't pay a dime in taxes.

Carol didn't want to risk the integrity of her business with the terms of my employment, but she was desperate for workers at the time and eventually decided that I could be a "special case".

I loathed being a special case more than anything, but if it paid the bills, I couldn't complain. God knows my mom's disability didn't pay for anything.

Peridot eventually came out, looking almost shy in my gym clothes. She'd tucked my shirt into the shorts she was so adamant on not wearing, and without the huge yellow raincoat, she looked even scrawnier.

I felt that if I wrapped my hands around her stomach, I'd be able to make the tips of my thumbs and middle fingers meet. Her thighs looked disproportionate to her torso in that they were of average size. My eyes trailed lower still, and that's when I realized.

In the space where her left calf should've been was a thick metal peg. It looked shiny and unscathed by time, and I suddenly felt like the most immense asshole in the entire fucking world.

"You don't have a leg," I said before I could stop myself.

Peridot flushed and turned away, her expression twisted into something almost pained. "No shit," she snapped.

I looked down at my shoes, feeling guilt rise like steam in my chest.

"Is it new?" I asked, thinking back to her struggle on the stairs.

"Fairly. I had to get it last August. My parents wanted me to rest and continue my therapy for another month, but I think I would've euthanized myself if I had to put up with that agonizingly sedate torture for another thirty days," Peridot laughed bitterly.

"So is this your first day? At this school, I mean."

"I've been at this school since Monday," Peridot took a deep breath and limped over to me, sitting down on the bench to my right. "My family moved here for the operation."

"Oh. Sorry for not noticing you earlier," I murmured. "Everyone kind of blends together to me after a while."

"I blend in?" Peridot asked, a peculiar hopefulness in her big round eyes.

She absolutely did not blend in. Her entire body was mismatched and disproportioned, and her hair was an unforgettable shock of platinum. Her voice was as unique as it was grating, and her vernacular included words I couldn't even imagine the average high schooler uttering.

But because I felt as if I'd slighted her enough for one day, I nodded very seriously and looked her in the eyes.

"Yeah. I hardly noticed you, actually," I said, which was only half a lie.

Peridot broke into a smile that split her face in half. I noticed right then that her eyes looked like round windows to the ocean- green and teal and glassy and brilliant.

My eyes drifted to her prosthetic again. With a decisive huff, I stood, my fingers slowly undoing the drawstrings of my sweatpants.

"Here- let's switch," I offered. "Give me the shorts and I'll let you wear these."

"Y-you mean it?" Peridot asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Sure. Go over there and I'll toss 'em to you."

Peridot leaped up, running as fast as her prosthetic leg would allow her to. I felt something pleasant fill my chest as I tugged off my sweatpants and tossed them to her.

Peridot thanked me profusely, passing me the shorts. I slipped them on and walked around to meet her. With my long sweatpants covering her ankles, one could never tell that from the left shin down, Peridot was made of steel and plastic.

Peridot played idly with her fingers, knotting and un-knotting them as she clasped her hands together. "So your name is Lapis, right?"

"Lapis Lazuli," I affirmed. "And you're Peridot."

She grinned wide, as if the mention of her name from a foreign tongue meant something to her.

"Wow. Thank you, Lazuli," Peridot said. "And uh- if it's no trouble, I'd rather you not tell people about my… minor inconveniences."

Though missing legs were hardly minor in their capacity for inconvenience, I found some part of me that still sympathized with kicked puppies, and crying infants, and young amputees, and I nodded.

"I'll stay quiet," I promised.

"Thank you," Peridot sighed. "Uh- actually, as you know, I'm kind of new here, and while I know I might look like the type to be impossibly charming and lovable, I surprisingly don't have any friends yet and-,"

"It's cool," I interjected, raising a hand to hush her. "Give me your number. I'll text you tonight."

Peridot grinned brightly, offering me her cell number. We met eyes and shared the awkward kind of smile that only belongs to new acquaintances.

And suddenly we were shoved into a brief moment of tension in which neither of us moved, or spoke, or even breathed. Chills went down my spine.

"We should go back to class," Peridot said with impossible softness, as if she was reluctant to break the strange moment of silence.

"Yeah," I said, and the ground beneath me became solid once more.

I didn't even look at her as I walked out of the locker room, hopping up the stairs two at a time, and leaving Peridot to struggle on her own like a car puttering uphill with a flat tire.

The rest of the way I walked to class, holding my hand to my chest as if my heart might sink to the bottom of my rib cage if not held firmly in place.


"Lapis? Why are you home so early?" Mom asked as I trudged into our dinky little shoebox of a home.

"Carol called me off," I mumbled, tossing my schoolbag to the floor and kicking off my shoes.

"That's good. You work too much, Lapis. I'm glad you get a break."

"Yeah, well, I was supposed to make like sixty bucks today so…" I trailed off, sighing.

Mom was sitting pretty in the dining room, a cigarette burning between her lips and her pajamas from two nights ago still on. I could live one thousand years and never forget how she liked to sit and smoke, and put her used up Malibu's in a red solo cup filled with sink water.

Our house was basically an overturned cigar box. It was cramped, with two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a fused kitchen/living room. Mom had decorated it with old wine bottles and Christmas lights- as if a warm appearance might fend away the mold growing within the walls.

It was cozy, like the feeling of being suffocated slowly within a hug.

A picture of my house taken in the eighth grade would look no different from a picture taken today. Nothing about it had changed at all since I was fourteen, save for the minor accumulation of dust.

I remember one year, I went out and bought a little oil painting from an outlet store. It had a soft pink ocean with a faded morning moon that peered out from a deep blue background. I'd hung it up in my room across from the window, so that whenever the sun broke through, the colors of the painting lit up like they were on fire.

But when my mom saw it, she had a fit. It took me an entire night to calm her down, and since then, I've had to keep the painting hidden away beneath my mattress. I think she's afraid that if the house changes too much, dad won't recognize it when he comes back.

I don't have the heart to tell her that dad wouldn't come back anyways- not even if our house stayed the same until the day they both died.

"What do you want for dinner, Lapis? I'll give you money and you can go to that Chinese restaurant you like and order takeout," Mom offered. I gritted my teeth. There was a reason I liked working dinner hours at Carol's restaurant.

"That place is expensive," I said robotically. "I'll just make myself a sandwich or something."

"Stop it," Mom snapped. "You need a real dinner."

"This is a real dinner. Seriously, mom- don't spend your money on me."

"I am your mother, Lapis Lazuli, and it is my duty to make sure you are fed." Mom had turned away from our old television set to glare at me.

I made a disgusted noise and snatched the bag of bread from the top of the fridge. I ripped a slice out and took a big bite of it. I winced. The bread was stiff.

Ignoring the dry taste, I pointed to the food in my mouth and scowled. "I am fed, okay? Jesus," I sneered, searching through the fridge for lunchmeat. I found a fresh pack of salami and packed it between two slightly rank pieces of bread.

Satisfied with my meal, I tied the bread bag up and closed the fridge with my foot. I picked up the sandwich and a paper plate, and trudged back to my room to eat in peace.

Mom poked her head into my room not five minutes later.

"Lapis?" she piped up hesitantly. I swallowed the last bite of my sandwich.

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad at me?"

I huffed. "No, I'm not. Is that all?"

"You know you need to stop talking to me like that."

"I know. I'm just stressed out. Sorry."

"Let's go get takeout, okay? I don't like the thought of you eating sandwiches for dinner."

I stared at my hands, feeling something tense pull my ribs together in the core of my chest. "I'm sorry mom. I just killed my appetite. Maybe next time, okay?"

Mom sighed, using her thumb to massage her temples. "Okay, Lapis. I'm going to go to bed now. Don't stay up too late," she warned.

"I won't," I promised, meeting her eyes.

My mom always had this tired, de-saturated air about her. The kind where you could look at her and tell that she might've been beautiful once. But like a cotton shirt thrown too many times through the wash, she had become wrinkled and faded and beyond recognition of her former self.

It was almost sad.

And as soon as she closed my bedroom door behind her, I let out a tremendous shaky breath. It was like a game I played with her that had droned on for far too long. We'd been entertaining it for a while now, and I still haven't told her that the Chinese takeout place went out of business a shy year after dad left.

I used to cry because of her, but four years have taught me that crying is only a waste of energy and salt.

Nowadays, coping consisted of me just trying not to think about it. Sometimes, it even worked. Other times, it didn't. This was one of the Other Times.

Before the worst of my bad thoughts could trap me, I dug out my phone and sent a text to the first person I could think of.

Me: hey its lapis.

My phone buzzed not a minute later.

Peridot: HI LAPIS! YOU KNOW, I WAS KIND OF SCARED YOU WERE JUST JOKING WHEN YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO TEXT ME, BUT OBVIOUSLY YOU WEREN'T!

Me: whats up with the caps?

Peridot: I LIKE HOW IT LOOKS. ALSO, I LIKE HOW IT SOUNDS WHEN I READ IT IN MY HEAD. ACTUALLY, I THINK I JUST LIKE IT OVERALL.

I laughed a bit at that, and when I re-read the text, I could almost hear Peridot's scratchy voice in my head.

Me: oh.

Peridot: SO WHAT'S UP?

Me: nothing much. just thought I should text you so that you have my number.

Peridot: CLEVER! ACTUALLY, YEAH, THIS IS GREAT! I HAVE A SEMI-URGENT QUESTION FOR YOU.

Me: yes?

Peridot: DO YOU HAVE A CAR?

Me: yes. why, what do you need?

Peridot: I KNOW WE JUST MET SO IT'S KIND OF WEIRD FOR ME TO REQUEST THINGS OF YOU, BUT IF I GAVE YOU GAS MONEY WOULD YOU GIVE ME A RIDE TO SCHOOL? IT'S FOR TRIVIAL REASONS, I ASSURE, BUT IT WOULD REALLY MEAN A LOT TO ME.

I frowned, glancing away from my screen to think it over for a moment. I knew I was just as strapped for cash as I was for friends, but I wasn't sure if I particularly wanted the morning company. I was even less sure if I wanted to have responsibility over someone I'd just met and wasn't even particularly good friends with.

Still, I felt almost bound to her. As if I owed her something. As if, by some freakish clairvoyance, I knew that she'd pay me back in the future.

So against my stronger will and better judgment, I texted her back.

Me: sure.