Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.
Lex frowns and scrolls down her playlist. Billy Talent. That works better.
Today I walked down our old street, past the diner where we'd meet, now I dine alone in our old seats. The cold wind blows up through my bones, and I feel like I'm getting old, but I wish I was getting old with you. I held your hand while we took shelter from the rain, she laughed as we picked out our children's names.
Finding solace in music was something she did well—and often. It wasn't some corny emo-kid sentimentality thing. It was just that she could hum along and close her eyes and ignore everything by blasting music. Completely zone out sometimes too. She used to be a rock-punk-emo-scream fan, strictly. Basically anti-mainstream. But that just gave her the title of her eighth grade class's emo loser, so she started listening to a bit more stuff. Even trashy music like Sexy Chick and Break Your Heart, songs that turned out to be… surprisingly catchy and addictive despite the meaningless and often sex-driven lyrics.
Lex had a short attention span. It was just her. She clicked to something else, randomly.
I could stay awake just to hear you breathing, watch you smile while you are sleeping, far away and dreaming. I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever.
Somewhere inside, she needed something re-energizing. A cut both called to her and disgusted her. She needed one badly. So badly. She was angry. So angry, she would cut even just to watch her own blood drip. But it terrified her at the same time. She had cut herself with a butcher knife. Like she was some kind of meat at a supermarket. She'd always been vegetarian too. She had mutilated herself. She was a total freak. Freak of nature. Beef. Chicken. She'd always used Swiss army knives before that.
Why did she use a goddamn kitchen knife? The memory was imprinted in her brain. She now couldn't think of herself without thinking of mashed-up meat at Loblaw's. It was disgusting.
"What are you listening to?" Taylor popped up suddenly, making Lex jump.
"Nothing much." Lex shrugged, noticing for the first time that Aerosmith had finished a while ago and that she was now two minutes into The Offspring's You're Gonna Go Far, Kid.
"Ooh, The Offspring!"
Freaked Lex out to no end how Taylor just seemed to appear everywhere. She'd been at Coates Academy for two weeks now and her roommate had been doing that continuously. Lex was starting to wonder if Taylor was a ghost or something.
Coates Academy had been kind of stupid so far. First day in, Lex had been ordered by the principal to remove her eyebrow piercing and snakebite. Then to not wear a black tank top under the white dress shirt. It wasn't slutty or anything—it wasn't like a black bra under a wet white shirt, just a wifebeater tank. And then he started talking about proper footwear. Lex had rolled her eyes in exasperation—only about half the population of Coates Academy really did wear the dorky shoes they were supposed to, but he was picking on her—and then given the principal the finger. He must have been used to dealing with delinquents because she got away with simply a warning.
She'd seen Drake again. Drake, the boy from Orientation Day. He'd smiled nastily on the first day of classes and slammed his books on her desk later in class. Yeah, lucky her. She was in Drake Merwin's class, sitting in front of him. They were in the back of the room so he leaned his chair back so that it was against the back wall, then raised his legs on his desk, feet in Lex's face. And he kept that position all class. Then a week later, he'd started leaning forward the whole class, whispering obscene threats into Lex's ear until yesterday, when she brought an arm back and smashed a fist into his face.
A gush of blood came immediately.
Lex's couldn't tell who had it worse. Drake, who's reputation had his reputation damaged by being beaten up by a 5'3 girl twice in three days, or herself, immediately frozen and panicking inside her head from the amount of blood flooding out of Drake's nose. Wanting a cut. Thinking of meat cleavers. Blood. Minced meat. Drake Merwin's blood.
"What's going on here? Ms. Caro? Mr. Merwin?" The irritated English teacher slash detention supervisor had stood up, her expression somewhere between worry and annoyance. Poor Mrs. Laren.
Drake had glared at Lex. That psychopath-would-be-proud look again. He chose to lie over giving up his reputation. "I fell asleep and hit my head on the desk, Jane. Good enough?"
Mrs. Laren closed her eyes, counting to ten in her head. "Mr. Merwin, detention for two weeks. I can't believe you're starting up so early this year."
A crude, shark-like grin spread over his face. "Yup. See you after school, Jane."
"Mrs. Laren, Drake. Not Jane." The teacher looked about on the verge of a tantrum. She marched back to her desk, plopped down, and breathed deeply for a couple of minutes.
"Caro, you're about to die."
"Try me, Merwin."
Challenging Drake Merwin, Lex noticed, seemed to get him both agitated and excited. That crazy glint would return to his eyes and he'd smile wordlessly for a moment before looking away.
Lex crossed her arms, unsure of what compelled her to say the next words that slipped out of her mouth. "Pity, Merwin. You'd be cute if not for your disgusting antics."
"Why, thank you. You're so sweet." He grabbed her from behind by the collarbones and tightened his grip, Lex holding her breath, until she heard something crack.
"Fuck you, Merwin."
"I love you too."
Merwin, 1. Caro, 2.
