Chapter 3
Narita's head spun. She was staring at a pair of black shoes and a pile of puke. Around her, people were jumping back in disgust. The black shoes shifted away from her and the owner of them stood up, but he didn't back away. Narita's cheeks burned like she had a fever, and suddenly all she wanted to do was lie down.
At least now she didn't want to throw up anymore.
She felt cool hands hold her hair back and rub her back. She stiffened and tried to straighten, bumping into the table. Pain shot down her spine. Then, Gina's soothing voice said, "Shh…Narita."
Narita calmed down. She sat up, dodging the table this time, and looked around. All around, people were gathering their bags and leaving the café with wrinkled noses and sneers marring their faces. A boy in a red uniform rushed over with a mop and began to clean up the avocado-y, salty mess: Narita's meager breakfast. The owner of the black shoes—a handsome boy with cobalt eyes—shouldered his backpack and walked out of the café. The even stride and relaxed sway of his hips did nothing to suggest that he was bothered by a girl throwing up so close to him.
"I nearly made it four years," Narita murmured, looking down at her knotted hands. Shame burned on her cheeks now, not humiliation. She would apologize to the boy later, but the rest of the school would know her as the girl who threw up in public. Just another burden she would have to bear until senior year was over.
"God," Gina said, wringing her hands in the air, "Narita, why do you do this to yourself?"
"Do what?" Narita managed, smiling wryly.
"You can freshen up in the bathroom if you want," the employee said to both of them.
Narita nodded and she and Gina got up.
"You know what I mean," Gina said. She pulled out her phone, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard. "I'm texting Miu. She can bring her entire set of beauty products."
"I threw up, Gina, I didn't get hit by a bus." Narita closed the door to the bathroom behind them. Then, she leaned back against it and breathed out, fighting the urge to slide to the ground.
Gina looked up from her phone just long enough to flash Narita a radiant smile. Narita couldn't help but notice enviously that the only bag Gina had was a designer one resting near her hip. "We have to make you extra beautiful so everyone will forget about what you did today."
Narita looked at her watch. Including the time it would take her and Gina to get to school, her friends did not have enough time to cover up an entire train wreck. She splashed her face with cool water and spat out the rest of her throw up. Without concealer and with drippy mascara, Narita looked like she'd just escaped from a nuthouse. But she felt like she was still trapped inside one as she looked into her eyes.
With a quick snap, Gina flipped down her phone and dropped it inside her bag. "Did you eat yet?" she asked. Narita opened mouth, but then she added, "Besides avocado and saltines."
Silence.
She sighed. "That's what I thought. Stay put. I'm gonna go get you some nourishment." With that, she turned and walked out of the bathroom.
Narita patted her face with a cheap, papery towel. All of a sudden, her entire body seemed to vibrate as a wave of fear pulled her under. She fell onto the floor of the bathroom—the dirty, germ-infested floor—and buried her face in her hands. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she let a few drip. Then, she forced them back and pulled herself together with a few quick gulps.
Move. Don't think.
She turned on the faucet.
Move.
She splashed her face.
Don't think.
She patted her face dry.
Don't think.
She turned without looking at her reflection and strode out of the bathroom. As she made her way to the front of the store, she drew her shoulders back and pulled her chin up. If putting yourself back together after you'd fallen apart was considered an Olympic sport, Narita would win the gold medal every year. She had so many hot-glued pieces of her façade there wasn't a part of her that wasn't chipped or broken.
Gina was standing at the front counter, charming her way to a buy-one-get-the-next-two-free deal with the manager and the clerk. Narita stood beside her as she twined her long, blond hair around one finger and smiled at both men. "Your wife, and your girlfriend, are both very lucky," she said.
The manager blushed, scratching the back of his head. "I don't have a wife." Narita figured this was his way of saying "I'm available."
"Neither do I," said the clerk.
"Well then," Gina said, and left it at that. A bag with three bagels inside—plain, everything, and jalapeno—was set in front of her, quickly plucked up by her slender fingers. As Gina hooked her arm through Narita's and steered her out of the store, she turned back and waved at both men.
"Have a nice day, ladies," the manager said.
"Thank you," Narita called back, feeling wallflower-ish next to Gina.
The chilly, January air bit into their bones as Narita and Gina got outside. Both girls said nothing at first, taking two bagels from the bag and leaving one for Miu. Then, Gina broke the silence.
"Why do you do this, Narita?" This was voiced softly with a frigid undercurrent. Narita looked to the side at her friend's beautiful profile. Gina's pink lips were pressed white, keeping something in or perhaps just thoughtful, and her eyebrows were pulled to the focal point above her nose.
Narita didn't have an answer. To say that it was the only way to become successful would be wrong and offensive to the way Gina lived—her motto was "Why worry about today when you can be bungee jumping from the Eiffel Tower?" But in Narita's mind, that was the only answer that would reflect how she truly felt. How could she express that, in her mind, the only way her life would turn out like she wanted it to was if she pushed herself now?
"Nurture, perhaps," Narita said softly.
"Bullshit." Gina stared at her phone. She could probably cut someone with her glare if she wanted to, but right now it was directed at Miu's worried texts so as not to injure any pedestrians. "Your parents worry too."
"They never told me that," Narita said. In her head, she thought, Traitors.
"Well, they do. You're speeding down a highway and you're gonna run yourself off a cliff if you don't slow down."
"But I would slow down if I saw the cliff. Or at least I would turn away from it. Anyways, what kind of highway ends in a cliff?"
"Fine. Your going down a tunnel."
"So I'm dead?"
"No! I mean, yes! Basically! That's my point, Narita. You're killing yourself!" Gina finally turned to her. Narita readied herself for daggers, but all she saw was genuine worry in her friend's eyes.
The fight drained out of her. A hot-glued piece of Narita fell down, but she would pick it up later. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I have to."
Gina softened, too. She began walking again at an easy pace. "No, you don't. I just wish you would realize that."
They walked until the school came within sight. Students were already milling onto the lawn: first-years pumped about the thought of school ending, second-years sneering at the underclassmen and hiding excitement, and third-year students just bored with it all and eager to move on to the next phase of her lives. Narita braced herself for the looks and whispers. She felt Gina take her hand and squeeze it hard.
"Eyes up, shoulders back, kill anyone who looks at you weirdly."
Narita nodded. As they walked across campus, she imagined a little prick on her skin for every judgmental gaze aimed at her. Then she imagined deflecting them with armor. She felt hyperaware of the brutal silence of the masses—but she also hoped that she could pull this off, live her humiliation down. That the spectacle from this morning would fade into history.
Then, she saw the blue-eyed boy from the café and something caught on her sleeve, hitched in her chest. He watched her from beneath a large cherry blossom tree. The disinterest in his posture was apparent, but in his eyes were a question. What are you going to do?
Narita's left foot hooked her right from behind, and she stumbled.
With that, someone snickered. Then someone else. And another person. Narita could literally hear the story of this morning spreading through the crowds like a deadly epidemic.
She felt Miu come beside her and take her other hand, dragging her and Gina through the throng of bodies. Narita twisted her head behind her to see the blue-eyed boy again, but he was gone, and something itched inside of her.
"I got here as fast as possible," Miu was saying as they walked into the nearly empty building.
"You didn't have to do that," Narita said.
"What were you looking at?" Gina asked as she gave up on trying to follow Narita's gaze.
"Nothing."
They ushered Narita into the bathroom where Miu dropped her large duffel bag onto the floor—a loud clunk from various objects falling together—and pulled out a hair straightener from the top of the pile. She plugged it into a wall outlet and handed Gina some heat protectant, which she massaged into Narita's hair.
"Please, don't make such a fuss," Narita said.
"You threw up this morning," Miu said. "A fuss shall be made."
"Hold still," Gina instructed.
Narita silenced herself as her friends bustled around her. She'd originally planned on apologizing to the blue-eyed boy for throwing up near him at the café, but now something was holding her back. Why should I have to apologize to just him? It's not like I got anything on him, she thought, amazing herself. It was like a little bit of Gina's breezy confidence had rubbed off on her. Or maybe, the constant movement and care from her friends was helping her feel better.
Narita watched the reflections of the three of them in the mirror, a constant flurry of movement from Gina and Miu centered around her. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice catching on "you" as her throat closed up.
Neither of them looked up. This only made Narita feel even more grateful for them.
"Close your eyes," Miu instructed, brandishing some wand at her as an explanation.
Narita fluttered her eyelids shut, some of the stress from his morning fading away. She let her friends work on her for the entire time up until school started. Gina and Miu talked about gossip and current events and argued about gay marriage and abortion with Narita chiming in with her own opinions later in the conversation. How long has it been since I've talked like this? she wondered.
She opened her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. The Narita that looked back had no bags to speak of, glossy lips, wispy black hair, and dark eyes. She didn't look at all like the girl from this morning or the girl trying to keep herself together after falling apart.
No wonder Gina likes to live like this, separated from all the stress of colleges and getting a degree, Narita thought. Her eyebrows furrowed, reflecting her surprise back at her. Then, she gave a subtle shake of the head to mirror-Narita and closed her eyes again, shutting her out. No, you already know your path, she thought firmly. And that was the last of it.
But in the back of her mind, a little part of her asked, Is that the only path?
Traitorous thoughts.
A/N: Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh
I'm back...for a while...idk, I've just really missed writing. It's become a way to let off steam and relax. So I apologize if the quality isn't great or if the plot lines get tangled. I'm just...not caring anymore. Yeah...sorry not sorry.
Thanks for reading. Type some words about it and click some buttons, yeah?
