Work, classes, things... So little freetime nowadays! Sorry about the wait on this one- had a bit of writer's block with this chapter, I'll admit. I was going to make it longer, but I already felt like we'd jumped around enough... Everything is appreciated guys :) As for the person who asked; yes, this is an Emison story at the core- wait for it... ;) And I'm glad the mood I'm trying to write is coming through!
"Heugh!"
Jolting upwards, my heart pounds against my chest in shock of being so violently awoken from my sleep. Shit, here we go.
My vision was still a bit blurry from slumber, but considering that the grey light of morning was just barely seeping through Spencer's windows, I didn't bother to try to rub them clear; hopefully I'll be able to catch a few more Z's before facing today. But first, I instinctively bundle Hanna's hair up in my hand, as her body gives another weak dry heave.
"Oh, no," Aria grumbles, reaching out from her position on the floor and dragging the garbage can over to me, "Shottie not looking after her, though."
"I got it," I sigh, grabbing the little can and leaning over the blonde's body in order to put it on the floor in front of her. Sickly, Hanna lets out a whimper of dispair, she curls in on herself. Grabbing the spare hairtie from around my wrist, I secure her hair safely away from her face and then lay back down- if she hasn't shuddered away from me yet, I figure, she won't do it now. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to reach out for her and comfortingly rub my hand along her back, just as her body quakes again- followed by the chunky delivery of vomit hitting the trash can. I grimace. It happens to the best of us, but it's still disgusting.
"That better not stink, Hanna," Spencer threatens lighheartedly into her pillow. Hanna groans again in response.
Closing my eyes, I murmur, "It's okay. Don't hold in that barf or you'll feel like you're stomach is full of sewage."
"I already do feel like that," Hanna whines, hiccuping, "Can someone get me a glass of water? Please?"
Aria's hand shoots into the air, "Not it!"
"Not it!" Spencer echoes just as quickly, disappointment wells in my chest; "Nooo," I complain, "Spence, it's your house!"
"Suck it, Em. You were last on the draw." The girl taunted lovingly, snuggling back into her blankets. My body felt like deadweight just thinking about getting up, "Come on," Pleading, I grab onto Hanna as if she were leverage to let me stay- although it didn't make any sense, "What if your dad is up in his weird pyjama brief underpants?"
"My dad wears silk robe pyjamas," She amused in response, "Any sightings of him are safe."
Have they forgotten that I'm probably the last person Hanna wants to coddle her right now? But what was done was done and decided, as the two of them curled under their blankets and I stretched my limbs in preparation to stand. Sitting up, I take one last, quick look at Hanna; still clutching her stomach and trying to breathe deeply with her eyes closed- she was probably also trying not to smell the barf.
Quietly, I pad out of the room and down the stairs; in the kitchen, I retrieve a glass and fill it with water. It was weird to think that, years ago, the five of us would giggle and bake cookies in this kitchen like nothing was wrong- Ali would dictate, sometimes Spencer would counter, but mostly, we'd paint our nails and watch reality TV. Back then, we were all branches of the same person; our personalities weren't too far off from one another, and that's why we got along. But, I guess when people grow, their personalities grow, too; Ali's more devious tendencies to occasionally shoot someone down or her hunger for secrets and power became more manipulative as she aged, more dangerous. My own shy, insecure underlayer became slightly more paranoid that things were never really what they seemed. Deep down, or not so deep- there always existed the fear that I am not good enough, I am not as good as I think I am, people do not like me if they didn't stick through the formitive years with me like the girls had. That made any sort of rejection so much more personal- and when it came from Ali, someone who should be within my security, it threatened to crush the whole internal safety system. It jeapordizes what I think is right.
And, with some surprise, I realize that I made it back to Spencer's room without feeling my feet touch the floor. Blinking, I gaze down at Aria, and Spencer; maybe they aren't dozing yet, but they might as well be. I don't think Hanna has moved at all.
Making my way over, I sit down on the bed and gently touch her shoulder with my free hand, "Han," I whisper, "Here's your water."
I can sense Hanna's hesitation in the way her body twitches, then takes a thoughtful pause, and eventually rolls over to look at me. My heart twangs with renewed sadness that she still thinks I would ever do something so nasty to hurt her.
"Here," I slide a hand under her shoulders, assisting to prop her up against the bed frame so that she can drink the water without choking on it. Begrudgingly, Hanna allows me to help, and then, somewhat shamefully, I hand her the glass. Her fingers tiredly pluck it from mine and she takes the tiniest sip imagineable, rubbing her temple with her other hand.
Out of the corner of her makeup smudged eye- she'd die if she saw what she looked like right now- she glances at me and then sighs, "I might puke on you."
"Try not to." I mumble as casually as I can- but she looks so pale right now that I wouldn't blame her if she did. She remains impassive, taking another tiny sip of water, and I stand again- exiting Spencer's room. Something tells me she wouldn't care to ask where I was going- and she didn't- so I wander down the hall to Spencer's pristine bathroom; flicking the light on, I take in my reflection for a moment. Deep bags. Inert, dull eyes. Uneven skin. The longer I searched for something, the more of nothing I saw looking back at me.
Running my hands down my face, I approach the sink and twist the hot water on. Cupping my hands beneath the stream before it got too scalding, I give my face a few good splashes. Everything's fine, Em. Blinking, I pull away just as the flow became too hot to touch. I then twist the cold on to even the temperature out- and I gently pad the water off of my face with the hem of my shirt. No one looks as alive as I imagine them to be. Everyone is a walking person, just like me. Nothing more or less.
I test the water now, it's lukewarm- opening the cupboard by the bathtub, I pull out a grey face cloth and soak it, before turning off the water and then twisting all of the excess from the fabric. I make sure to turn the light off as I leave.
Back in Spencer's room, Hanna had slumped back down into the pillows, the glass resting on the nightstand; remotely untouched. She stirred when I re-entered the room, and again when I sat down on the bed next to her.
"Here," I say repeat, causing her to roll over and squint at me. Gently, I run the damp face cloth over her forehead and down her cheeks; trying to remove the makeup that had been caked on from last night. The blonde flinched as I neared her, and I sighed; we really needed to actually talk about this disaster, but now didn't quite appear to be the time. After that, I bunched up the cloth and ran it over her eyelids; where the mascara stuck a bit more stubbornly. "Do you remember what happened last night?" I ask quietly, just to ease the tension forming between the two of us.
She half-shrugs, "Sort of."
"Do you remember Ali kissing you?"
Her eyes snap open, a crease forming between her brow, "Now that you mention it... I kind of do? What was that about?"
Back at this again, I think with a constriction in my chest, "I don't really know. We were trying to figure that out." Spence and Aria were, at least. Hanna looks me over unsurely, and grunts; as though remembering only now that she was supposed to be upset with me. Progress.
As it turned out; Aria's "thing" was to help her read over lines in some community stage production she had signed up for. I didn't want to say anything, but the script was damn near awful. The director of this show had also written it- some faux deep shit about kids whose parents didn't give a crap about them, and then there were drugs, and then they somehow ended up in a gang, which dramatically concluded with one of the main character's death. Aria had landed the role of Susan, the trusty, goody two-shoes sidekick of the main character.
"No," The word kind of falls of my tongue like lead, as I boredly grip the stack of papers in between my fingers, "Justin will never know. All we need to do is borrow the money from his account."
"But, Phoebe," Aria chimed back with much more energy, "We can't do that to him, it's so wrong to do that while he's in the hospital."
"We'll get it back to him before he even knows it's gone." Bending the corner of the page, "Trust me."
"It's just not right."
"Then I'll do it on my own." With a flick of my wrist, I flip the page- noticing that was when it was Phoebe's cue to "leave the stage". Thank God.
As I closed up the booklet, Aria gave a brisk nod. "That was... okay. We're just doing a reading, so I'm not going to try to hard to memorize."
When did Ali go so wrong? She'd always been off, I know, I know... But there was something so different about her last night. And kissing Hanna? Where did that even come from? It was so out on left field that I don't even know where to begin with wondering about it. Sure, okay, she must have caught on by now that I have a certain... fixation on her- but really? That was just... wild.
"Yeah," I agree bemusedly, wiggling the corner of the paper, "Any other scenes?"
"I think just one," Aria murmurs, flipping the pages of her own copy carefully, "Way near the end..."
I can't believe Ali would do that.
"When is this production happening?"
I thought we were best friends? And she just... played me. Lulled me into a false sense of security. What kind of animal does that? Wait... no... Am I thinking of mermaids?
"Not until like... August. Where are you going?"
Aria looks up at me, confusion hardening on her features. Where am I going? Looking down at myself, I realize I'm standing. Standing?
"Bathroom?" Quickly, I cover up any hint of bafflement on my part- God, I need to hold it together. "I'll be back in a second to do that last scene. I just feel like I'm going to pee myself." My cheeks lift in such a forced smile that I feel more like stone than a person, and then I turn on heel fast enough to only catch a glimpse of Aria's quizzical stare.
That was really weird of you, my conscience points out, you really need to get a grip.
I can get a grip when everyone else does.
Twisting the handle open of Aria's bathroom door, I slip in and close it behind me; only now noticing how often I'd been ending up in my friends bathroom's having a reality check lately. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I observe myself in the mirror quickly- I don't look too bad, if only a bit shaken. God, Ali lives in my own skin more than I do.
Sighing, I open up the cupboard over the sink- hopefully I can get lucky and find an aspirin in here. Fishing around, I pull out some deoderant, Proactiv, hand cream, a mysterious unlabeled jar of cream, and some febreeze- followed by small black beetle falling onto the counter. Ew.
It was alive, though- just a bit dazed from the fall. It's stiff little legs slowly flailing in the air, until it found it's momentum and rolled itself off of it's back, antennas probing the counter unsurely. I peer into the cabinet, just to make sure it was the only one hiding in there. It was.
Scratching my head, I watch as it waddled over to the bar of soap; his probing antennas touched it and he jolted away quickly, turning back the direction it came. I guess he didn't like the smell...
Obscurely, I lift the febreeze up to the cupboard again; it was lavender scented, like the soap. What am I going to do about that bug? I wonder how many chemicals are in this can? Lowering my arm, I start to shake it; an idea forming in my mind. I bring the nozzle over the bug and press down; the mist shooting down and assaulting the beetle; who cinched up for half a second and tried to flee; it's legs unable to carry it away from the stream fast enough. He seems okay. Fascinated, I follow it; keeping pressure on the button. Febreeze really mustn't be that bad. Boredly, I return the can to the cupboard, and turn on the tap, running my hands under the water. The beetle is still slowly, groggily, trying to make it's way over the counter. He's looking for home. Some place to hide. Who knows, but this isn't where he's supposed to be. I watch as one leg slips out from under him, and then another, and then as he immobilised completely.
Is it dead?
Unrolling some toilet paper, I lift it up- it doesn't squirm. It's dead. With a heavily present feeling of apathy, I toss it into the toilet, and I can't help but realize that if he wasn't dead already, he'd be dead now.
Monday morning was overcast, with a slight drizzle that gave the world an oddly serene grey tone. I waited for Spencer under the front foyer- she had sent me a text in the early hours of the day, claiming that we really needed to talk about Ali; just she and I. Leave it to Spencer to figure it out. Part of me was overcome with anxiety, another felt strangely at peace with the situation, the weight of our... non-romantic relationship being lifted from my shoulders. Not that it really mattered anymore. The kiss happened so long ago. Anything that happened recently wasn't really... obvious?
"Emily!"
Jumping, a whirl around- standing in front of me was not Spencer, but instead, Mona.
"Oh," Confusion warms the inside of my mind, "Hi, Mona. What's up?"
Could you imagine if someone like Mona found out? My conscience sneers, God, you'd be dead meat.
It's nothing.
Is it?
It's nothing.
Feeling my pulse increase, I suck in a breath and check my watch absently, not really absorbing the time, or what it read, or how the gears turned, or the hands running over the face- or my hands over my face, my heartbeat, my blood-
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Mona asks condescendingly, glaring.
"Huh?" I gape, awkwardly pinning my hands behind my back- "Sorry, Mona. My mind's all over the place today. Repeat that?"
The poor girl looked like she was already entirely done with the conversation (or lack of) that we were having, which, no offense to her, I didn't mind because Mona and I had never really been friends. And to make matters worse no one except Hanna had ever really apologized to the way we treated her back in seventh grade when she was apinktail wearing geek. It just made our encounters so uncomfortable to me.
"I hadn't said anything yet," Mona deadpanned, "You were just staring at your watch."
Nice one, "Sorry," I repeat, and motion her to continue speaking, "Go on?"
The brunette took a grounding breath, which made me cringe a bit inside because everything that came out of my mouth appeared to be coming out so unintentionally rude.
"I wanted to say," The girl started, "Thank you. For taking care of Hanna- despite the shitshow that you brought her to."
My chest tightened, "I didn't take her," Bristling, I feel my fingers curl into my knuckle momentarily, "Ali did. She wanted everyone to come."
"Some idea that was," She singsonged, with a dramatic roll of the eye, "And also, thanks for delivering my message."
The bitterness was as straighforward as biting right into a lemon.
Can't I ever catch a break?
"Mona," I groan, leaning against the wall behind me, "I'm sorry if I didn't tell Hanna right away. We're not on good terms, and it was a wild night."
Scoffing, the girl fixes the collar on her expensive leather jacket; I take a moment to observe my own apparel today; Rosewood Sharks washed out tee, some jeans from H&M, sneakers from Target and a jacket from Reitmans. Yeah, that leather jacket was probably worth more than my entire outfit.
"I don't appreciate," Mona growls, "You trying to sneak in and steal Hanna away- and it's not just you, but for some reason, you just can't help but to crawl into everyone else's relationship with her."
There wasn't a doubt in my mind that it was a not-so-passive dig at the Caleb thing- which meant that Hanna had shared the suspicion with the friend estranged from everyone else. Funny how all of your worst enemies turn out to be your best friend's best friend's.
"I don't know what Hanna said," I start slowly, meeting her accusatory stare, "But Caleb and I never had anything going on- contrary to her belief. I don't know how Caleb ended up with my clothes."
Unimpressed, the short girl inspects her nails before shrugging, and purses her lips, "I think it would be better for everyone if you just backed off."
"I'm not backing on?" I counter- maybe it was only me, but my head wasn't quite wrapping around what I had actually done wrong.
"I'm just saying," Steps forward, "That you need to quit your little game of acting so sweet an innocent. You're toxic."
"What's your issue?" I hadn't quite noticed how much she had begun to invade my personal space until I was looking directly down at her, eyes burning with hate. Toxic? If there was anyone toxic here, it was Mona; backstabbing, two-faced, gossiping Mona. And she was trying to intimidate me? I had nearly five inches on her, and a good ten pounds. I could knock her down before she could even get to the hair pulling or nail scratching. One good push is all it would really take.
An aggravated energy twitched through my wrists, on their own accord, they rose past my hips- the exertion tingling to be released-
"Is there a problem?" Spencer harshly interrupted- the intensity of the situation rippling through the air awkwardly as the two of us didn't seem to notice her appearance. It sure caused me to jump violently, and Mona inhaled sharply, taking a step backwards.
Twitching, I curl my hands into a tight fist, and release slowly, "No problem," I muster sweetly, through my teeth. I'd explain later- there was no reason to waste time on a delusional Mona.
Spencer raised her brows, reading me with a look that said 'Sure thing, Em' in the most sarcastic of tones. She swept over me, however, and prodded Mona, "Really?"
"Really." The shorter girl copied my faux-honey coated voice, "Just discussing history stuff." As if on cue, the first period bell rung, and Mona twiddled her fingers at the two of us, "Ciao, ladies."
The two of us watched her leave without returning the regard, but once she was out of sight, Spencer twisted around, arching her brows again, "Sorry I was late. What the hell was going on there?"
"Not important," I wave her off; there was no reason to make a big deal out of the predicament. It really, truly, was nothing.
"Uh-huh," Spencer scoffed doubtfully, "Em you looked like you were about to punch her out."
That struck me more than situation, "What?"
"You were all," She gestured at my body, searching for an explanatory word, "Tense?"
"I was just," This just got weird. I wasn't actually going to do anything to Mona- did she seriously think that? "Yeah, I was a bit tense. But only because Mona was being all Regina George."
"Please," Spencer laughed, holding up a hand, "Mona isn't Regina George. She's Gretchen Weiners with a superiority complex."
Spencer's witty snark wasn't quite strong enough to overcome the stress that I felt building in my temple. Yes, Mona had taken a toll on me- and Spencer was being oddly cavalier despite her wanting to talk with me, which was nice. Things could have been really uncomfortable, but she wasn't treating it as such. And I appreciated that.
"Are we ditching first block?" I ask, leering through the glass windows of the door; watching as the hallways emptied. Spencer gave a one shoulder shrug, "Might as well. I only have cooking."
"I have algebra." I murmured- I should really go to that class, my marks were already down, "But oh well." I really didn't want to go, though.
"Okay," Spencer twisted her lips, "I'll try to keep this short, then. Let's find some place to sit,"
Really cavalier.
We made our way over to a courtyard picnic table, where I stiffly took a seat across from her. Nonchalantly, she slides her bag off of her shoulder and plops it onto the table. I gnaw on my bottom lip, waiting for her to make the opening statement.
She's fine with it. It's all going to go over smoothly. If she wasn't- then we probably wouldn't even be having this conversation. She'd keep it on the inside for a few days and let it marinate until it drove her crazy. Unless... She had figured it out way earlier? By the resigned, slightly irritated look on her face, that's just as much of a possibility.
"About Ali..." I croak, the silence becoming a little bit too unnerving,
"Yeah," Cautiously. Spencer rests her head on her hands, "I wanted to talk to you about this, well, because... You know her better- I think she trusts you the most,"
What direction is she coming from?
"You just have a really trustworthy face. But, I'm seriously wondering about what to do with her- do we kick her to the curb?"
This was about... Ali's behaviour? The tightness leaves my chest- I'm so glad.
"I..." Do I not understand what she's trying to say because I'm so blindsided, or because she isn't being very clear? "What are you saying?"
"I mean," Spencer waves her hands through the air, "She's been weird lately, yeah?"
"Yeah," I agree, "Super weird."
"Okay. You should talk to her."
What is with people and being so daft to the fact that I am currently in the cauldron with several others?
"We aren't exactly on good terms," Depression hits me in the back when I notice that this is the second time I've had to say that today- and it wasn't even nine o'clock.
"Yeah," The other girl affirmed, "And you never will be if you don't talk about it."
"Talking doesn't really work with Ali."
Exasperated, Spencer throws her hands into the air, "Make it work, Em!"
"How do you expect that to happen?" I hiss, a throbbing begin to form in my skull. Spencer purses her lips, opening her mouth to respond- but my phone chiming cuts her off. "Sorry," Shoving it into my bag, I don't even bother to look at whoever had sent me a text. Probably just Aria.
The brunette across from me deflats, rubbing the nape of her own neck stressfully, "I don't know, Em. Things are just getting too weird for me. Something's off."
Glad it's not only me.
"Yeah," I exhale heavily, my hands felt like they were disintegrating into the surface of the concrete table, "That makes two of us."