Chapter Eighteen: Hurts So Good
It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon. Manny was wearing long sleeves, feeling better than she had in weeks. She had missed school a few times. Her mother knew about it, as Manny had been faking an illness. But finally she had to go back. She didn't argue; she was still shaky around Amada.
Once Manny had started burning, she did it more frequently. She had cut a few times, and probably would a few times more, but burning was just that much more painful. She preferred the seething, lasting, horrible pain that went right to her nerve endings and didn't let go. It was mostly her left arm, since she was right-handed, and rather than look down in disgust or horror, Manny thought the scars made it beautiful.
She waltzed into the school, feeling like she was on top of the world. She felt so happy, so pure. Everything was going to be okay, as long as she could avoid the pathetic little cretins who had a tendency to run into her.
"Theresa!" Manny called, seeing her new friend. Theresa Scannel turned around. She had a white streak in the front of her hair now. Manny smiled. "Cool hair."
"Hey, Manny. What's up?"
"Oh, not a whole lot. How've you been?"
"I'm alright. Just hanging out with Scotty and Nelle. You?"
"I was at home for a few days," Manny said.
"You sick?"
Manny smiled. "Nah. But they don't know that."
Theresa laughed. "That old trick, huh? Well, listen, Manny, it's been great seeing you again. But—"
Manny's face was crestfallen. She thought Theresa and her could really be friends. "I understand."
Theresa raised her eyebrows. "Understand what? I was just saying I had to get to class."
Manny blushed. "Oh, I thought…well, you see…I…"
Theresa smiled. "Don't be paranoid. I'll catch you later, alright? You can come with Janelle and me after school."
"To where?"
Theresa thought a moment. She shrugged. "Why bother planning?"
Manny smiled. "Okay, I'll…catch you later."
Theresa waved and dashed down the hall towards her class.
"Who was that?" a male asked from behind her. "Your girlfriend?"
Manny turned around and saw Spinner. She glared. "Why? You wanna watch?"
He smiled. "Could I?"
Manny rolled her eyes. "You're such an idiot," she said, pushing him with her shoulder as she walked away.
"Hey, Manny."
Manny looked to her left. Emma sat down beside her in the Media Immersion room. "Hey." There was silence. "So, you hear the news?"
Emma looked at Manny for a moment. "You mean about you?"
"Yeah."
"I heard," Emma said quietly.
"Then it really is getting around."
Emma looked at Manny hopefully. "You want me to track it down, see who the source is?"
Manny gave a small smile, remembering the time Emma had tracked down a rumor about Liberty, only to discover she had started it. Accidentally, of course.
"Nah."
"Oh, okay," Emma said.
"I already know where it came from."
"You do?" Emma stared at Manny.
Manny knew what Emma was thinking. She thought Manny thought it was her. Typical fears of the self-involved, she thought, however unfairly.
"It was Paige," Manny replied simply.
"Paige? How did—Manny, you told Paige?"
"Moment of weakness. Anyway, it doesn't—" the bell rang, so Manny paused as people filed in, "—matter."
"Manny, just because you had a dream doesn't mean you're a—"
"Emma, shh," Mr. Simpson interrupted. He was still teaching class for however long he could manage, despite the fact that he had leukemia. He had been noticeably harsh to students lately, and most hadn't a clue why. It was better they didn't, but had they known they probably would have been nicer.
Manny looked at Emma and shrugged, a little pleased Emma couldn't bring this up. Not yet. She didn't want to hear it anymore, didn't want to hear that she was just a besotted fool with some dream girl. She knew dreams didn't define her as a person, she knew that it was poor backing up.
But she had felt things for girls before. She thought it was just a friend thing, thought it meant nothing. She was boy crazy because she didn't feel much for boys. She felt almost asexual, and realizing that made her something of a freak, she tried to make herself normal by becoming obsessed with every male that came along.
She had her suspicions in the past, but the dream just awoke something inside her she had been pleading would stay dormant forever.
Manny felt as though she was drifting through life, from one moment to another, nothing good. She was too caught up in her own thoughts to listen to Mr. Simpson's bantering on about whatever the day's lesson was.
She hoped that in time, she would either disappear, or everyone else would. She wanted to be alone. She wanted her solitude so much it was almost palpable. Emma didn't understand, and she didn't want to. She accepted Manny, true, but she could never truly be the one Manny could turn to. She just didn't understand what Manny was going through, what Manny felt.
Manny wanted to stand, to flee. She wanted to run from the classroom and never look back. But in doing so, her parents would receive a call. One more excuse to hit her. One more excuse to send her off to live with Viviana.
Her parents would never understand if she told them. They'd never accept her as she was; never accept her for being such a failure. She failed her parents by not allowing herself to be normal.
Emotions overwhelmed Manny, and she felt herself raise her hand before she knew what she was doing.
"Yes, Manny?"
"May I be excused? I need to use the washroom."
Mr. Simpson nodded and motioned for her to take the hall pass. Manny grabbed it gratefully, and wandered towards the nearest washroom.
Inside, she walked right into a stall. She rolled up her sleeves, took a metal barrette from her hair, and scraped it down her skin. Over and over until it drew blood, it caused such a stinging sensation that it almost hurt as much as burning. Little droplets of blood welled to the surface, and Manny smiled almost dreamlike down at her arm. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and applied pressure to the wound, knowing that blood would certainly seep through just a long-sleeved pink shirt. She waited for it to stop, waited until it was far past the amount of time she normally took when she went to the washroom, but she didn't care. This was important, this was so important. It held more for her than anything she could think of. It allowed her to feel, and she was a little in love with the pain.
Finally, the blood calmed down and Manny wrapped toilet paper around her arm so it would stay in place, rolled down her sleeves, and went back to class.
She pocketed the barrette, not wanting someone to look at it and see flecks of skin, and blood, and pieces of Manny's soul.