CHAPTER 5: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Maybe it's just an appreciation? An appreciation for another human being?

It was six o'clock on Sunday evening and there I was, lazily draped across my bed still wearing my pajamas from the previous night and my powder blue terrycloth bathrobe. My hair was up in a messy ponytail and I had those obnoxious little bits of crust in the corners of my eyes that one gets during nocturnal slumber. You see, along with not even bothering to change into new clothing when I had woken up that morning, I also didn't bother to wash my face to get the aforementioned bits of crusts out of the corners of my eyes. Needless to say, I looked like a mess. There was a reason for it, though.

I spent the entire weekend willingly confined to my bedroom. I needed to lock myself up so that I could sort through my feelings.

After Veronica left early Saturday morning, I went right to my room and planned on holding myself hostage in there until I figured out my complicated emotions. I only left to go to the bathroom and to get food, much to the concern of my parents.

I had gotten nowhere with the entire 'figuring-out-my-emotions' thing.

But I miss her. God, do I miss her so much. I miss her face, her voice, her cute smirk… her curves, her breasts.

I smiled.

"Lizzie!" my mother's voice beckoned from behind my closed door.

"Yeah?" I answered, slightly irritated. She interrupted my thoughts.

"Dinner is ready. How about actually eating with your family tonight instead of sneaking down and grabbing your plate to bring upstairs?"

"I don't feel like it, mom. I'll just come down for my plate later on."

I heard my mother sigh deeply through the white painted wood that separated us.

"Lizzie, do you mind opening up the door for me?"

"I don't want to," I snapped.

Her voice grew angry.

"Elizabeth Brooke McGuire, you open this door right now."

I shook my head and rolled off of my bed like it required some kind of effort that I just didn't possess. I walked to the door, slouched over and moving like an arthritic geriatric woman. Once I reached it, I pulled it open to see my mother standing there, arms folded across mid-torso with a stern face.

"My god," she said, looking me up and down. "You're still in your pajamas?"

I shrugged.

"And that ratty robe! And that hair, goodness…"

"Mom, please."

She paused for a moment and continued.

"Lizzie, sweetheart, I know that something is going on. You have been holed up in this bedroom ever since Veronica left on Saturday morning. You've just been lounging around in your pajamas and that damn bathrobe. Do you mind telling me what the deal is?"

I looked down at my bare feet. Chocolate cherry nail polish covered each of my toenails, except for the one on the second-to-the-biggest toe on my right foot. The polish was chipped on that one.

I made a mental note to repaint it.

"Lizzie!"

I looked up at my mother.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes in frustration.

"I asked you what's wrong, Lizzie."

"Nothing," I said.

"I'm not stupid."

"Mom, could you please just let me handle shit in my own life?"

She frowned.

"You don't want my help?"

"No, it's not that."

"What, are you too old to get advice from your mother?"

She was being irrational.

"Mom, that is not what I am thinking at all. This is just something I have to take care of by myself."

"Okay," she said with a nod, "I get it. Can I ask you something though?"

I felt my body tense.

Oh no. She wants to ask me something. She knows. She knows about Veronica and me! Wait a minute, what do I mean 'Veronica and I'? There is nothing to know about Veronica and me.

I looked at her curiously.

"Sure, mom."

"Well, you started behaving this way when Veronica left. Does it have anything to do with her?"

"What!" I asked, feigning disbelief. "No, it has nothing to do with her."

My mother knew that I was lying. She could hear it in my voice, read it on my nervous face. But she didn't pursue the matter any further.

"Alright," she said, raising her eyebrows.

She walked away as I closed my door. With a deep sigh, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

Why can't this be any easier?

-NEXT-

"Son of a bitch!" I muttered, jumping out of bed.

I looked at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The large red numbers read seven twenty. I had to be at school by seven forty. It wasn't usual for me to sleep in, but I assumed that it was my body's way of responding to all the stress I experienced that weekend.

Scrambling around my room, I grabbed a pair of jeans and a gray baby tee that had the word 'GAP' written on the front of it in big bold letters. After throwing the clothes on frantically, I ran to the bathroom.

-NEXT-

"Morning, can't eat breakfast, no time," I sputtered breathlessly after running into the kitchen.

"Someone overslept," my father said in a teasing voice.

He and my mother, along with Matt, were sitting around the table enjoying hot waffles doused in syrup. As I looked at the food, I felt my stomach growl, but I had no time to eat.

"Mom, do you think you could give me a ride?"

"Sure dear," she said through a mouth-full of food.

I collected my white fleece zip-up hoodie and my purse, and then I ran to the car.

-NEXT-

With my head pressed against the window, I watched the scenery pass. Trees of green, colorful flowers and people of all shapes and sizes peppered either side of the road. It was slightly foggy out and the sun was peeking over the horizon. I loved that time of year; January's end. The morning air was always fresh and cool, lightly kissing my face each time I stepped out into it. It was good for my soul, taking away all of my cares, making me elusive, bringing me to life.

"You know Lizzie, you really need to get your license."

My mother's voice snapped me back into reality. Such a pity, too. I loved escaping the suffocation of reality.

"I will," I said.

"I don't know why you won't just go get it."

"I don't want to right now, mom."

I didn't have my license. Why? Well, I really didn't know why. I simply had no desire to go and get it. Sure, I had my learner's permit, but I didn't particularly care for driving. I very much enjoyed walking. I walked to school, I walked home from school, and I walked everywhere else. In my mind, there weren't too many things better than taking an evening stroll under a sky painted with light blues fading into dark ones.

The average seventeen year old has their license and spends their Friday nights cruising around, going to wild parties, and getting drunk.

But I wasn't like the average seventeen year old.

Plenty of my peers only seemed to care about driving their flashy cars, one of them being Miranda. She would constantly brag about the extravagant candy apple red Chevrolet Malibu that her parents bought for her brand new when she turned sixteen.

The spoiled bitch.

And of course Gordo, being the trademark non-conformist that he was, refused to get his license. Instead, he relied on public transportation. A few times, I had seen the local bus pass downtown with Gordo sitting in the very back, wearing a mellow look and a pair of headphones on his head.

The car came to a stop and I heard the locks on the doors click.

"Well, here we are. Have a good day, sweetie."

All the sudden, I felt my nerves tingle.

Veronica.

I had to face Veronica that day. I didn't want to. I couldn't. What would I say to her?

I tightly gripped the door handle as I felt the nausea making it's way up the length of my body.

"Lizzie, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing, mom," I stuttered.

"Are you sure? You don't look so good."

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

"Really," I said reassuringly, "I'm fine."

And then I got out of the car.

-NEXT-

As I walked to my locker, I felt the paranoia taking over me. My eyes would bolt in every which direction, searching for Veronica. I wasn't quite sure of what I was going to do when I saw her, but I wanted to be prepared.

Maybe I'll run to her, or maybe I'll run away from her.

Opening up my locker, I went through it to find the books that I needed. As I did that, I felt a tap on my shoulder that made me jump and drop my tablet.

Oh no, oh no, oh no! Is it Veronica?

I turned to see who it was.

Miranda and Gordo.

Oh thank god.

"Hey," I said nervously.

Gordo bent down to pick up the tablet for me.

"Thanks," I said as he handed it back.

"Why were you so freaked when I tapped your shoulder?" Miranda asked.

"Me? Freaked? No way, I wasn't."

But I was. I was a bundle of colliding nerves.

Miranda's eyes grazed over me and then she asked, "Where's your friend?"

I decided to play dumb.

"My friend? What friend?"

Miranda rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Lizzie. You know I'm talking about Veronica."

"Oh right," I said with a nod. "Uh, I don't know where she is."

"Hm, well, that's a surprise."

The tone of her voice and the expression on her face sounded and looked like something seething with, dare I say… jealousy?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you two have been attached at the hip lately."

"No we haven't!"

"Oh yes you have. And if I didn't know you Lizzie, I'd think that you two were dykes."

Oh my god. We look like dykes together? Do people think that way about us? Do they think that way about me?

Miranda began to laugh.

I began to get royally pissed off.

Gordo just stood there looking blank.

"Shut the hell up, Miranda. Nobody asked you, did they?"

She looked stunned.

"What? I wasn't trying to be mean!"

"Yeah, because that didn't sound mean, right?"

She shrugged.

"Well, it's just the truth. That's what it looked like to me, that's all."

Everything that had been building up inside of me for so long was becoming entirely too much for me to carry. All of the things that Miranda had done to me in the past - tossing me to the side, treating me like I was inferior to her, expecting me to always be there for her even after she chose to push me out of her life – they had all left a mark on me and feelings of anger and hatred boiled beneath the surface. I never had the chance to let it all out, to scream at her, to make her feel as insignificant as she made me feel.

And then I finally cracked.

"Oh, so you want truth, huh? Well, do you want to know what you look like to me? You look like nothing but a phony bitch that was only good enough to screw and then leave. Why don't we ask Jack about it, Miranda? You were only good for him because he needed a few fucks and of course you opened your legs to him because he was the first person to give you attention. You were nothing but a desperate, horny wench and I wish you would've gotten pregnant. Too bad they were all false alarms. I was really hoping that one test would come out positive so that your life would be ruined and you'd get fat."

Anger and sadness took over Miranda's face and tears brimmed from her eyes.

I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled with satisfaction.

Now you know what it feels like, bitch.

She leaned in close to me and said, "Say what you want to me, at least I've had someone before. You're a goddamn loser and no one wants you."

"Right," I said nodding, "And the one person who wanted you was a slacker pot-head who was only interested in finding a hole to stick it in, and he chose you because he knew you were easy."

Suddenly, I saw Miranda's hand rise, but Gordo quickly grabbed it.

"Don't," he said to her cautiously.

"Let her," I said, "Let her hit me."

"No, Lizzie, stop it. Miranda, just turn and walk away."

Miranda stood there for a moment, staring me down. Her sharp glare pierced me. I stared back expectantly, waiting for her to make some kind of move. She sighed deeply and turned to walk away.

Gordo moved closer to me, shaking his head.

"You're lucky I was here to keep her away from you."

"Keep her away from me?" I asked in disbelief. "I wanted her to hit me, Gordo. I told you to let her."

"Come on Lizzie, you know I couldn't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you two are my friends and you don't need to be beating each other into the floor boards. Besides, do you really want to be suspended for fighting?"

I clenched my fists and bit my bottom lip. After a moment, I felt something warm seeping into my mouth. It tasted like copper. I reached up to touch my lip and pulled my finger tip away to see a coat of blood covering it.

Looks like I bit my lip a little too hard.

I slammed my locker door shut and stormed away.

"You're welcome, Lizzie!" Gordo hollered after me.

I waved my hand at him.

-NEXT-

Everything appeared to be fine. I had settled into my normal daily routine of school without crossing paths with Veronica. Each time I turned a corner, I anticipated running into her, but that hadn't happened yet.

Until I was walking to fourth period.

I was making my day down the crowded hall, feeling the warmth of a bunch of cluttered teenage bodies hitting me. I was shuffling through my notebook, searching for Anatomy notes. When I looked up, I saw her walking on the opposite side of the hallway. She was looking at me with hopeful eyes. I smiled at her and she smiled right back. Then she crossed through the throng of people to walk beside me.

"Hey, Lizzie," she said happily.

"Uh, hey," I said, trying to sound uninterested.

"How are you today?"

"Fine."

I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes glued straight forward and my face without expression, but I could feel her gaze on me.

"That's good to hear. I had fun Friday night, even though I had to leave."

I began to pick up the pace, forcing my legs to move faster.

"I have to go Veronica, I'm going to be late for class."

And with that, I left her standing behind in dejection.

-NEXT-

I decided to skip lunch and sit in the library to avoid Veronica.

This is fine, this is good. It's much better this way.

I pulled out my notebook and began to scrawl my name in different designs on random pages. I did block letters, bubble letters, fancy cursive, big print, small print. I would dot stars and hearts around 'Lizzie' and roll my eyes at how incredibly girly and childish it looked.

I closed the notebook and rested my chin in my raised palm. My head was aching from thinking so much. It felt as though there were small tin soldiers marching in unison to a cadence call all over my brain. The constant thinking that I had been doing was really beginning to wear me out. I wanted to halt the loud screeching train of thought trailing through my mind

Oh Veronica, what am I supposed to think? I keep telling myself that there is nothing between us, but I don't think know it's not true. I can feel something deep inside of me. It's too much for me to handle. Is it right? Is it wrong?

Oh god, being near her felt so right.

I was convinced that I would never find the answer. There was a huge mountain of confusion right in front of me and I was doomed to spend the rest of my life trying to climb it, never reaching the top.

-NEXT-

It was the class that I had feared all day: 9th period English.

I hurried into the room, knowing that Veronica always arrived later than I. That day, I decided to sit in the vacant seat beside Corey Anders in the back of the room. I couldn't sit beside Veronica. I just couldn't face her.

A mere second before the bell sounded, Veronica made her way into the room. She looked puzzled when she saw that the seat I usually occupied was empty.

Oh my god, there she is. She looks so great in that dark green long sleeved cashmere turtle neck.

I wanted to run to her.

She sat down at her desk, not even noticing me huddled in the recesses of the dark corner of the classroom. She pulled out our assigned 'Great Expectations' novel and I watched her every move, paying close attention to the way her slender fingers brushed over the cover of the book.

I feel like I am out of breath.

She reached down and grabbed the small bunch of hair that was in her face. Flipping it behind her, she turned and began to look around the room. I wanted to crouch down, to hide under the desk so that she wouldn't see me.

But she did.

Her eyes caught site of me. I looked at her and saw the disappointment rush to her face instantaneously. She was hurt that I hadn't sat by her.

I offered a sympathetic smile but what the hell was that going to do? Was it going to miraculously alleviate the pain caused by my blatant rejection?

She frowned and quickly turned back around.

I felt so disgusting, like I had committed some unthinkable crime and belonged behind steel bars.

But I was already behind steel bars and I was my own jailer. I was becoming a prisoner of my fears. Why was I so afraid of what I felt? Who cared about what other people thought?

I care. I care too much.

Something inside of me was shattering. I could feel it. It was my heart. It was as though my heart had transformed into glass and was shattering right inside of my chest, the broken shards showering my innards and sending small stabs of pain throughout my body.

And I was the one who caused it.

-NEXT-

When I got home from school, I went right to my bedroom, and I didn't have any intentions of leaving it for the rest of the day. I didn't want to be around anyone. I just wanted to be alone. I felt so very ugly for putting Veronica through such torment. She definitely didn't deserve it. She was the most innocent person in the world.

But I was too wrapped up in my own selfishness and silly trepidation to see how big of a fool I was.

I decided to sleep the evening away. Sleep was good. When you sleep, you forget. You don't think. You merely exist without even being aware of it. But no matter how many times I beckoned sleep, it refused to come. So I downed four Nyquil tablets and suddenly sleep was at my doorstep, anxiously awaiting me to allow it to come in.

I gladly welcomed it.

-NEXT-

I awoke drenched in sweat. It was one of those feverish naps where you wake up feeling a little too warm with perspiration-soaked clothing.

My room was dark, so I knew that it was late and I had slept for quite a long time. I looked at the clock to see that it was ten thirty at night.

Yawning, I felt hunger resting in the pit of my stomach. I stretched my arms and decided to go to the kitchen for a bite to eat.

-NEXT-

I walked into the living room to see my father sprawled across the couch, a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. He was watching a football game on the television and I saw how his eyes danced and a huge grin took over his face when his favorite team scored a touchdown.

Who gives a shit about football? It's so stupid.

Shaking my head, I sauntered to the kitchen to find my mother scrubbing a pan in the sink. Her yellow gloved hands were gripping a pan dipped into the sink full of soapy water and bubbles. She was violently scrubbing the grit and grime off the pan, her lower lip sunken behind her teeth.

Just as I opened up the refrigerator door, my mother spoke.

"I didn't even hear you come in."

"That's because you were busy attacking that pan," I said, looking through the fridge for a scrap of food.

"You missed dinner."

"I know, I'm sorry, I took a long nap."

I grabbed a plastic bag full of deli turkey slices, a piece of American cheese, and a jar of mayonnaise. Closing the door, I grabbed a bag of white bread and a plate and began fixing myself a sandwich at the counter adjacent to where my mother was standing.

Mom stopped scrubbing and looked at me with concern.

"A long nap? Are you feeling alright, Lizzie?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread.

"Well. you slept all evening. Maybe you're coming down with something."

I sighed and threw two slices of turkey onto the other pieced of bread.

"Mom, I said I'm fine. I really am, okay? I just had an exhausting day and I needed to sleep."

She nodded and went back to destroying the food encrusted into the pan.

-NEXT-

The following morning, I woke up with that horrible feeling of impending doom clutching at my gut. I didn't want to go to school. I couldn't. The previous day was hard enough. Seeing Veronica fall apart at the seams because of me was too much to handle. I needed to find a way out of it, and that was when an idea hit me.

I climbed out of bed and headed to my parents bedroom. The carpet felt soft under my feet and the house was peacefully quiet.

I knocked on their door and I heard my mother's groggy voice mumble something that sounded like 'come in'.

I opened it and there my mother was, sitting up in bed, still under the blankets. Her hair was piled on top of her head, strands sticking out in odd directions. I remember noticing how weird she looked without her glasses.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Mom, do you remember how you asked me if I was feeling okay last night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not. I feel sick. Is it okay if I stay home today?"

She stared at me for a moment and then said yes.

I gently shut the door and, as I walked back to my bedroom, I thought of how I had been behaving recently. At first, I was happy and enjoying myself with Veronica. Something was happening to me and I couldn't stay away from her. It was as though she had cast a spell on me that made me follow her lead and worship her every move. Fascination and temptation had taken over. And then when the gravity of our situation hit me, when I realized what was happening, I went into a panic and ran away from the issue instead of dealing with it. It left me confused, it left me hurting, it left me wanting to break down and sob.

And that was when a familiar song entered my mind and I whispered the lyrics to myself… "I'm wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I."