Hello! This took some time to finish because I've been feeling unwell lately, but here it is! Next chapter is already halfway done, so expect a sooner update. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback you have given me. I'm giving you all virtual sloth hugs.
Music: Anna by Arcade Fire
CHAPTER 3:
10 Days Before The Storm – 6:00 AM
The world was black, and then I was alive again.
At exactly six in the morning, my eyes fluttered open. Yes, fluttered was the right term for it. The awakening was gentle—a light blink towards consciousness, induced partly by the soft noises from outside and partly by my own body clock. There was nothing new to it. I had always been a girl (woman?) of precise and early risings despite never having a fondness for mornings. These particular traits of mine were what I considered to be both treasures and baggage; valuable and burdening. They were remnants of the old me that not even the afterlife could get rid of.
I wallowed in my bed, which was one of the many white furnishings I had in my dorm. Lucy's room was a minimalistic Eden adorned with modern furniture and flora/fauna accents I cherry-picked myself. It was a dollhouse designed to mimic the internal machinations of my teenage persona: my wealth was an unnecessarily big flat screen TV, my vanity was a tabled mirror filled with beauty products, and my laziness was a cluttered study desk. Of course, not all of it were lies. Some of it were genuine, like the happy Eaton family photo that sat on my nightstand, where my phone also was.
The strongest drug of the twenty-first century came not in a pill but in the form of a little touch-screen electronic box. With its multiple purposes such as playing music and taking pictures, phones were the Swiss army knives of society. They were portable and easy to use, thus making them convenient. So convenient, in fact, that they had a tendency to become addictive. Juliet Watson, a girl in my Science Lab class and also a reporter for the school newspaper, was a living testament to this affliction.
1 New Message, it read on my phone. I tapped the tiny twitching green icon of the inbox, having an assumption already that the notification came from Chris as he often updated me with details of his and our parents' lives every now and then. To my surprise, it was from Jefferson.
Mr. Jefferson: In case you're wondering, I gave you an A for the essay. Remember what we talked about. I have faith in you.
The text was sent at 11:48 PM last night, just two hours after I put myself to sleep. I stared at the screen and read the sentences over and over. In my throat was a lump I wanted to ignore and the more I processed the black pixels of his words, the harder it was to swallow.
Jefferson and I exchanged numbers when I first began helping him out for the sole purpose of him informing me my assigned tasks, and for a while that was how it worked. My phone history had proof of that; our previous text conversations consisted of two-liners: him, the initiator, beginning with 'Lucy, could you...' or 'Would you kindly...', and me, the finisher, ending with 'Sure...' or 'Will do, Mr. Jefferson...'. Last night at 11:48 PM was the first time he delivered me anything deviating from that format—the first time he texted me something so casual and so friendly.
I didn't like it.
It was rather harsh the way I deleted his message without second thought, I admit. I could imagine the tut-tutters collectively chastising me: Why are you so cold? Mr. Jefferson was just being nice! It was nothing personal. The text did leave a bitter aftertaste in my mouth and it did made me question whether or not it was appropriate; however, what weighed heavier in my mind was my meticulous list of rules. I had to follow the gossip-free-Lucy protocol. In the event that someone were to snoop around in my life, I didn't want to give them the impression that my forty-six-year-old male teacher and I were chummy together.
I had the option of spending the rest of my morning in bed, justifying myself and appeasing an invisible audience, yet today was not a day for brooding. Today was a day for doing. Outside, I heard a sound that was rare to find in a dorm building packed with adolescents: silence. I walked into the hallway—my pretentiously quoted white-board slate behind me—and saw that it was blank. No student in sight (teenagers were surprisingly nocturnal creatures). I reveled in the peaceful quiet, though my bliss was short-lived once I reached the door that lead to the showers. On the other side of it were faint voices conversing. It seemed I wasn't the only one awake at this hour. I sighed and prepared my work-smile. Showtime...
The voices conversing were actually Juliet (speak of the former devil) and Dana. I felt the coil in my stomach relax. The two girls were pleasant company—a bit high-strung sometimes, but they were okay in my book. I moved to occupy the last sink available, the one nearest to the door, which was next to Dana where she was brushing her teeth. "Ladies, good morning."
"Morning," Juliet chimed as she fixed herself in front of the mirror. Dana, still dressed in her pajamas, cheerfully waved at me.
"You guys are up early," I said.
Juliet rolled her eyes like I had just uttered the stupidest garble she's ever heard. "Not willingly. Deadline for the paper is supposed to be today, and one of the writers couldn't finish her editorial because she got chicken pox or something. Now she's making me finish her damn article."
"Ouch. I guess that's what happens when you're too good at what you do." The joke was meant to coax her out of her grouchy mood. An angry Juliet was an insufferable Juliet, and it was too soon for my taste to be dealing with such negativity.
She looked at the tiled wall beside her and checked if it was adequately clean, then leaned on it and smirked. "If she wanted to kiss my ass, she could have just asked. I don't mind a little experimentation."
I laughed. "And you, Dana? What brings you to the early birds club?"
"I've got this emergency cheer meeting for the big game next week," she said while patting herself dry after gargling and spitting out water. "Which, of course, I expect you to attend this time, Lucy."
"Yeah, you should have seen how Patrick scored the winning goal. It was epic," Juliet concurred.
About a month ago, the Bigfoots had a match with one of our neighboring rivals, the Growlers. I never had an affinity for football (or sports, for that matter) so it came as a relief when I found out that the event coincided with my father, Lance's, birthday. The Eatons were disciplined traditionalists; their family-oriented nature conditioned them to be adamant throwers of celebratory nameday dinners for kins, and last September had been no different. With the wonders of technology, I was able to attend...virtually. Rather than being surrounded by adrenaline-rushed teens and shouting my non-existent school spirit, I spent that night being holed up in my room on Skype and fake dining on lobster. From what I gathered, the game was a swift victory on our part.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'll try going." The smile I plastered on my face at that moment hid my internal conflict of do I go or do I not go. "I wouldn't want to miss the sight of Dana shaking her booty and jocks wrestling jocks to the ground." Both girls grinned in return.
"Speaking of jocks, have you heard the news?" Juliet's tone suddenly held a teasing quality. Hours after our initial encounter, I immediately discovered that it was a mannerism of hers; whenever she discovered a new scoop and wanted to share it (dangle it above everybody's oblivious, eager heads), her voice lilted. It was quite akin to a little girl speaking in her sing-song voice: I know something you don't.
"Here we go," Dana muttered under her breath. I stared at them curiously, mildly intrigued.
"Zachary and Victoria have broken up."
My eyebrows shot up. What surprised me was not the break up. That was hardly breaking news: three days prior, Victoria updated her Facebook page with a shitpost concerning a vaguely described guy in her life. It wasn't hard to put two and two together since her description contained enough specifics to be able to pinpoint who she was referring to. No, what surprised me was Juliet's apparent interest in Zachary. "Oh my god, what happened?"
Dana shrugged. "She dumped him. Reasons unknown."
"Who cares? The point is Zach is on the market again."
"Juliet, I love you, but Zach? Really?" Zachary was not exactly the resident dreamboat and everyone knew that.
"Yeah, I didn't even know you liked brawny. I thought you were into the literary type," I said.
Juliet scoffed and crossed her arms. "Please, I'm surrounded by enough of those at the Totem. Those guys cannot handle a real woman. Besides, what's the problem? Zach is hot and he's a quarterback."
"He's also a big bully. I won't stop you from doing what makes you happy. Just try to take it easy, okay?" said Dana as she touched her best friend's shoulder.
"Geeze, fine, I will. I'll take it slow, mom. Though I can't do anything if Zach wants a piece of me. I have to go now. Catch ya later."
"Bye." We watched Juliet practically skip to the door, her pretty peach skirt swaying at her every elated step. There was no doubt that she was ecstatic at the prospect of a new man candy, and no certainty that she would heed the cheerleader's words. I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose. I already felt the onset of a headache (Juliet had that effect on me) and it wasn't even noon yet. Understanding someone as predictably unpredictable and impulsive as her was tricky.
Once she made her exit, Dana opened her mouth again: "Knowing Juliet, she'd probably pounce before Zach could finish saying 'hi'."
I hummed in agreement. "Well, you're right about that. I think it's Zach we ought to worry for."
"Victoria's not going to be happy when she sees her ex boy toy and Juliet together."
"I foresee a disaster in the near future," I said. Color me impressed. That was the third time in a row Dana echoed my thoughts. I glanced at her from my peripheral and saw her staring down her sink, her face pensive. It unsettled me. I was used to seeing her happy default.
"You okay, Dana? You kinda spaced out there for a sec," I asked.
She turned to me, eyes alert. "Huh? No, it's nothing."
"You sure?"
"I'm alright. Still a bit sleepy, I guess."
I wasn't an idiot. I was aware of what was eating her up inside.
While Victoria and Juliet enjoyed pretending they were the Perez Hiltons of the campus, there were individuals in Blackwell that I called 'birds'. Little, unseen birds who could see everything in their surroundings. Those, I made a point of befriending. That was how I extracted information on people. Most of the rumors the birds told me were lies—"from simplistic childish fibs to elaborate Rube Goldbergian contraptions". Only a handful of it were remotely legit, and that was if I filtered the exaggerated details. Albeit this system of mine had its own complications (with the biggest being that facts get horribly mixed-up after being passed from ear to ear), there were some truths to it.
"A very good source of mine told me that Dana got knocked up. And get this: Logan is the baby daddy."
"Hey, Lucy," Dana began.
"Hm?"
"I won't be here tomorrow. I've got this thing I need to take care of. Do you mind taking notes for me for World History? I know it's short notice—"
I raised a hand to stop her. "No, no, it's okay. I'll do it." Of all the things I allowed myself to be, a cunt was not one of them. I had long admitted to myself that I was not a good person. I developed a knack of gathering potentially harmful intel on people because I hated not knowing; hated it to the highest degree that I was willing to go as far as ignore the norms of privacy. The only redeeming quality I had to counteract this fault of mine was that I surprisingly stayed sane despite the obvious power I had. I used the knowledge I gained to maneuver to an easier path, but never to blackmail those around me. Their secrets became my secrets.
"Thanks!" Dana's relief was clearly evident. It made her features sparkle back to life. "So are you going to the party this Friday? The Vortex club plans on going all out. Spoiler alert: they're hiring this new DJ to play sick beats to dance to."
My answer was already a definite no, yet I paused and actually considered her offer. "Mmm, I don't know. I've heard that shit gets crazy in those parties."
"Tell me about it. I still can't get the image of Ros and Liz in a drunk make-out sesh," she said.
"That was true?"
"Yes, and forever burned in my memory, though not as much as Hayden's. He was in-between them, hoping to get in on the action."
I snorted. "And did they let him?"
"Nope. Totally ignored him. I guess it was for the best cause I think Ros and Liz are dating now."
It was about time too. I once had the unfortunate luck of being grouped with them during gym class, and it was almost painful how third-wheel I was. The sexual tension between them was so palpable that if the three of us had participated in a threesome that day, it would've ended up being just a twosome plus little old me sitting in the corner. "Aww, ain't that nice. Good for them. All they needed was the right push. And by 'push', I mean a tongue tango."
"But seriously, you should come. I could fix you up, lend you one of my sexier dresses and boom! Blackwell won't know what hit em when they see you."
"That sounds promising." I found it pleasantly surprising and also a bit alarming that I actually felt tempted to go.
"Trust me. When I'm done with you, the boys will grovel at your feet...not that they aren't grovelling now."
"Oh come on, Dana. You know I only have eyes for you."
To that, she laughed. "Lucy, don't tease! So is that a yes or no?"
Do I go or do I not go?
"Alright, alright, I'm convinced. No need for the puppy dog eyes. I'll go," I said, which wasn't a move that inspired confidence, yet it came out anyway. A part of me (the miniscule part that desired to shed my facades and demanded to have fun) got moved by Dana's enthusiasm. My brain sometimes functioned too fast for my own good.
"Yay! Oh my god, this is gonna be so much fun." I stiffened as Dana went for a swift hug. "Crap, I have to go. But we'll text, okay? See ya," she waved at me again, then she was gone too.
The steam emanating from the showers had long blurred my mirror. I wiped it with my bare hand and met the cloudy face of my reflection. No time for brooding, indeed.
