Chapter Three

The phone rang on my desk, as I continued to slice at my pale skin, lying on my unmade bed. Should I answer it, or should I ignore it? Although I had no desire to talk to anyone, I realized that I couldn't avoid people forever. Even if the last thing I wanted was human contact, it was a part of life. All I knew was that I never wanted to see, let alone touch, another human being again.

Right now I felt like a worthless piece of filth. I wished Paige hadn't told the counselor that I was cutting. I wished I had just died when I had the chance. But after the seventh ring, I finally pressed my hand against my bleeding arm and picked up the phone with the other. "What do you want?" I demanded.

"Hey Ellie, it's Sean," he said, with a nervously regretful tone.

Great. He had either called to say that he caught me cheating, to break up with me, or to say that we needed to talk. And as strongly as I wanted him to leave me alone to die, my heavy conscience forced me to stay on the phone, at least long enough to hear him out. "Hey," I muttered, taking the phone into the bathroom, where I found a band-aid for my arm under the sink.

"What's going on, Ellie?" Sean demanded. "Why did you just run out like that? If you weren't having fun at the party, you could have come talked to me. I'm really getting sick of your drama, Ellie."

I was appalled. Leaning against the white bathroom wall, I felt an insurmountable rage flow through my body. If I didn't find an outlet to the anguish and pain that had built up within me throughout the lonely months of hiding scars and forming false friendships I felt as if I would pass out from it all…and just fade into nothing. "My drama?" I shouted into the phone. "Excuse me, but who keeps getting in trouble with the law and acting like they can do whatever they damn well please just because they have a bunch of delinquent assholes as their friends?" I demanded. "And who still hangs out with the girl who drank herself sick and got you in trouble? And lastly, who made this big deal about getting student welfare only to blow your chance on parties with your stupid gang?" I was appalled at my language…I couldn't remember a time when I had been that rude to a friend, let alone a boyfriend. But I felt like my anger toward everything; Manny, my mother, my dad, the war, Ashley, and myself was being poured into the vessel I had created out of Sean.

"Well great," Sean shouted. "I guess I know how you really feel then. It was nice knowing you."

Realizing the impact that my angry words had on him, I quickly tried to mend things. No matter what my mixed feelings for Manny were, losing Sean was something I couldn't…and didn't want to do. "Sean, please. I have no idea where that came from, I care about you. It's not you…it's me…" I said, with one last lame attempt to recover our relationship. I sounded like such a damn idiot.

But Sean had made up his mind, and the phone went dead. Leaving me a filthy

wretch, bleeding on the bathroom floor. I had no boyfriend, no parental figures, no good friends, and the only person who might provide an ounce of solace for me was the school tramp. A girl, don't forget.

Shit, I thought. How could I have been so cruel to the last remaining person who cared about me? Because I was a dependent freak. When I couldn't be Daddy's little girl, I became "the popular Goth's best friend," and Marco's girlfriend. And then I became Paige's sainthood project…and Sean was the last person who still cared about the worthless cutter I had become. And now there was only one person left. But I didn't think I had sunk low enough to cling to someone who was so hopeless herself.

That Monday was Hell for me. Somehow, in the course of two days, everyone had found out about our breakup. And everyone was asking me about it. "I just don't get it," Ashley told me, on our way to first period. "I mean, you guys seemed so perfect to me."

"Yeah," I said hastily. "Well so did you and Craig."

Knowing that I had hit her soft spot, I could safely leave the scene. I still couldn't believe that I was doing this to my friends, purposely hurting everyone around me for the sake of my own selfish antisocial mission. But gaining and losing dependence had become a sort of drug for me. And I couldn't let it go.

By third block, I was such an emotional wreck that I spent the next two hours in the bathroom, crying. I knew, when the bell to leave for fifth block rang, that it was time to come out. I quickly washed my face, but not quickly enough. As I tried to pull myself back together, Ashley and Paige came after me.

"Ellie, we want to talk to you!" Paige insisted. "What's going on? Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?"

I gave Paige a withering look, to show just what I thought of her. "And why do you care all of a sudden?" I asked, returning to my makeup.

"Sean said you blew up at him on the phone Saturday night," Ashley sighed. "Ellie, I may have been a bit wrapped up in myself lately, but I know when something's bugging you. So what's going on?"
"There's nothing wrong with me," I insisted.

"That's what you said before," Paige snapped. "Maybe I'm not your friend, Ellie, but we're worried about you."

"What are you going to do?" I snapped. "Go tell the counselor? Make me show you my arm again so you can go running to all your friends and telling them how screwed up I am?"

Paige and Ashley were both angered by my words. "I wasn't the one who outed you," Paige insisted. "I know you find it hard to believe, but I didn't say a word to anyone. Someone else must have seen your scars."

Without another word, I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. "You're not leaving until you tell us…" Ashley began, trying to keep me from leaving.

"I think I have the right to make it to my fifth block class," I said sharply.

Neither of them made any effort to stop following me down the hall. "We want to know how to help you," Paige insisted.

"We're your friends," Ashley continued. "We want to know what's up."

But it was a lie. No matter how much they thought they cared, they weren't my friends. They only cared when I was on the brink of suicide, and even then they were more interested in the sane members of their clique. Some friends. "I am so sick of everyone worrying about me like I can't handle my own life," I shouted, not caring who heard. "If I want to break up with someone, I'm going to do it. And if I'm a cutter, that's my problem. So leave me alone."

By now, it felt like half the school was watching us. "Ellie?" Marco called. "What's going on over there?"

But I wasn't paying attention to Marco, Paige, Ashley, or anyone else. The only person I noticed was Manny, who was standing in the background, giving me a knowing look. I wanted to run up to her and rip her hair out. I wanted to make her see what she had done to me…to blame her for everything. And at the same time, I wanted to kiss her again, and be held by the last person who could ever understand me. After one last kiss, I wanted to die for even thinking about it. Was I about to give up being straight for a shoulder to cry on?

"Ellie, talk to us," Marco pleaded, after he caught on to the situation.

I knew that this argument would persist unless I just ignored it and went to class. But that didn't stop them from whispering, and looking my way. I just wanted to die.

I figured that the best thing to do would be to focus solely on the teacher, and ignore my surroundings. But it was a nearly impossible task when you knew that all eyes were on you. Just pay attention to the teacher, I told myself. You're here to learn. It'll all flow over by tomorrow.

Just as those thoughts flowed through my mind, I felt something hit the back of my boot. Probably a note, I figured. Not that I got notes that often. Carefully, I unfolded it in my lap to keep the teacher from seeing.

Meet me in the courtyard near the tree by the front entrance. We'll talk there.

The note wasn't signed, and it wasn't in familiar handwriting, but I had a pretty good idea who had sent it. So I scribbled the words, forget it on the back, and prepared to slide it back to her. But something held me back.

Waiting for lunch was like waiting in line for a ride as a little kid. It could be horrible, on one hand, or it could actually be amusing. Either way, I really had no idea what I expected she would do. Maybe apologize for having brought me closer to a heart attack than I had ever been. Or maybe she would try to justify what she had done.

Although my rational mind knew that she wouldn't kiss me again in the middle of the school day, I somewhat dreaded confronting her. Because every time I saw her, I felt like we were somehow connected, even though we had never been friends. And now I felt a sort of bittersweet love hate affection for her. Like whether I killed her or fell madly in love with her I would get the same satisfaction. Which was what sickened me about her. She was a slut, the girl who stole our boyfriends. And in some perverted way, I felt like I was falling for her. If I ever had to have feelings for a girl…if they qualified as "feelings"…why did it have to be the school tramp?

When I reached our meeting place, I found Manny was already there, waiting for me, casually leaning against the tree. Just seeing her again made me shiver uncontrollably.

"Let's walk," she suggested. "Less chance of being overheard."

I nodded and we just started walking. All the while I could somehow feel her tension matching mine as I took the first words. "What do you want?" I demanded, as we passed a few picnic tables. "And what did you need to know from me?"

Manny gave me a withering look. "Think about it."

I sighed deeply. Obviously, she had been questioning, and wanted to know. No matter how logical it was, it still didn't seem to make sense. "But how could you be…I thought you liked Craig, and J.T., and Sully."

"You damn well should know that I can't be with guys anymore," Manny hissed, as we started to make a lap around the school.

Why was this my problem? Staring into her chocolate eyes, I tried my best to let her down. "You can be with any guy you damn want," I insisted.

"You're wrong," she snapped. "I can screw any guy I want, but that's all they see me as. A quick lay."

I was shocked. "Manny, why are you telling me this stuff? You don't even know me."

"Because I thought you were different," Manny shrieked. "I thought you'd understand."

"You thought I'd be gay," I said flatly. "Well thanks a lot, but I'm not."

Manny shrieked in disgust. "You think I want to be this way?"

"You're in charge of your own life," I said simply. "And I don't care what way you are. Just so long as it doesn't include me."

That was a lie. A huge lie.

"So what are you going to do now, Ellie? Go cut yourself again?" she demanded. "Think about it. Ashley is too worked up about her own problems, Marco's got a boyfriend now, Sean dumped you, and as far as I can see…you have no one. Stop acting like you're so much better than me, Ellie. We both screwed ourselves over. And we're both alone."

"So what?" I demanded. "And whose fault is it that Ashley got hurt?"

Manny bowed her head in shame. "I wasn't the one who cheated on someone. But like I've said before, no one ever thinks about that."

When I heard that sentence, I began to laugh uncontrollably. "Oh, and I suppose kissing me was no betrayal to J.T.?"

"J.T. is a jerk," Manny said, her voice deepening with hostility. "He has plenty of offers from clean girls…but who does he pick? The school slut. He goes for appearance and popularity, just like every other guy. First Paige, now me. Tell me you don't see a pattern. And think about it. We both know that we're cutters, and we both know that I kissed you. If one of us wrongs the other, our secrets are out."

Our secrets? I honestly didn't care what she said about me at this point. Everyone knew that I was a cutter, and I didn't think they could avoid me any more than they already did. "Now you're threatening me." It was so typical of Manny, to say or do whatever she had to in order to get the person she wanted. And even if I knew I was no exception, I felt too weak inside to fight with her.

"Whatever, Ellie," she sighed angrily. "I don't really care one way or another. I'm just saying...we've both been left with nobody. So what now?"

I took another look at Manny, and thought for a moment. "I'm not gay," I repeated flatly. "I don't like girls."

But as I said that, I continued to feel a certain closeness to her that I couldn't fight. Whether I liked girls or not, she was absolutely right to believe that she was all I had left. No matter how horrible it made me feel, I couldn't change its truth.