Chapter Three: Bruises
Regina didn't normally go for "nice guys." Sure, she had been with bland, white-bread Aaron Samuels in high school, but that was more of an image thing than anything. She had never cared that much about him and if she was honest, she knew he probably didn't like her that much either. If she had her way, she would definitely describe her type as the beyond cliché "bad boy." But there was something about her T.A for Writing 101, a straight-laced self-described "boy scout" named Drew (just Drew – he had refused to give them his last name – probably in an effort to seem like "one of them" despite the fact that he already had an undergraduate degree and they were a bunch of loser freshmen in a core class that no one actually wanted to take) that made her go all mushy. She realized there was no discernable reason for her to like him as much as she did - he really was pretty standardly handsome and his personality was definitely nothing to write home about. She concluded it was hormones. And this pissed her off. Writing 101 was hard enough as it was.
But even though she had been very flirtatious in high school, she could hardly speak more than a few sentences to Drew. It probably didn't help that Drew clearly didn't like her. Well, to be more accurate, he did like her, but he was also very disappointed with her. He had called her into his "office" early in the semester to discuss her personal essay (really, it was just the far corner of the Liberal Arts lounge because T.A's didn't have their own offices at Oberlin – and also got paid crap, Regina had heard) and being completely naïve, she actually came in to see him. Drew, in typical white bread/nice guy/boy scout fashion, was a perfect gentleman about it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings," he said, which Regina had always thought was one of the stupidest phrases in existence. "Because, well, your writing is really, really good. Probably the best in the class. The problem is, it's so impersonal. This is a personal essay. But, I really didn't get a sense of who you are."
She wanted to tell him that she had only been the most important and well-known and confidant person at her high school: the girl who everyone lined up to be best friends with, the girl even the teachers were jealous of, the queen of the most influential group on campus. But then, she also wanted to tell him that she had been easily the most hated person at her school: the girl responsible for personally victimizing the entire female student body, the ruiner of various people's lives, the girl who even teachers were afraid of. But she couldn't say any of this because for one thing, she couldn't manage to speak through the tears that had welled up at the back of her throat and for another, she somehow wasn't that girl anymore. She was trying to be nice, to start over, to somehow stand out and blend in at the same time. And somehow, in the process, she had become nothing. How had she become so hopelessly lost? "How am I supposed to do that?" she had asked Drew, after a seemingly endless silence.
"Well, you seem smart," he said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just, I'd like to see more from you."
Ever since then, he had written the same exact thing on each of her papers, regardless of the subject matter: "well written, but too impersonal. SEE ME." She did not see him. And she was beginning to hate him despite her hormones insistence that she had a crush. How was she supposed to talk about the things that mattered – the things that haunted her every night and day since she had arrived on campus – when she couldn't even think about them? Regina didn't even bother to look at Drew's comments this time. As soon as class was over, she hurried out of the building to lacrosse practice.
If Regina was honest, she really only felt like herself – or really alive at all, for that matter - when she played lacrosse. It was the only thing she was still good at and the only place she felt in charge. Sure, before and after practice was awkward as hell, but once she was on the field, everything else in the world disappeared and her attention narrowed. Today, she raced forward and swooped the ball away from her opponent, team captain Marianella, who Regina generally considered one of the more likable people on her lacrosse team. A heavy-set Puerto Rican junior, Marianella was the kind of person who Regina probably wouldn't have noticed much in high school. She was vaguely friendly, but usually prickly, cool and aloof – a woman of very few words. Although she never invited Regina to hang out with her outside of practice, she did occasionally talk to her – although never about anything remotely important. This was more than Regina could say about the rest of the team. In fact, Regina couldn't shake the feeling that most of her team actively disliked her. It could have been her imagination, of course, but then again, she hadn't exactly done anything to endear herself to the team.
Marianella swerved to regain control of the ball and Regina turned quickly to block her. Then suddenly, with a loud thwack, something sharp and heavy slammed into Regina right below her ribcage. The pain lanced through her like lightning and the ground suddenly shifted beneath her like waves. She sank to her knees.
"Oh my GOD!" Marianella panted. "Oh, shit! I'm so sorry." She dropped her own lacrosse stick and knelt down next to Regina. "Are you okay?"
Regina tried to take in a breath, but felt like her lungs were filled with shards of glass and needles. A loud whistle suddenly pierced the air.
"What happened?" shouted their coach, Mrs. Stein, rushing toward them.
"I-I hit her with my stick," Marianella stammered. "It was an accident."
"Of course it was an accident," the coach agreed. "You okay, Regina?" she asked, bending down to get a closer look.
"N-no!" Regina said. "I can't breathe."
By now, the whole team had gathered around them. "Girls!" Mrs. Stein shouted. "Back off! You're okay," she said lightly. "Probably got the wind knocked out of you, is all." But somehow Regina didn't think so.
"I'm sorry," Marianella said again, timidly putting her hand on Regina's shoulder.
"DON'T!" Regina shouted and Marianella flinched. "Leave me alone! You bitch! You totally did that on purpose!"
"No! I really, really didn't mean to! I was just-" Marianella started to say.
"Yes, Regina, I'm sure it was just a mistake," said Mrs. Stein, who as far as Regina was concerned, hadn't been paying attention at all.
"No it wasn't! Whose side are you on?" Regina said shrilly. She glared at Mrs. Stein's overly calm face and suddenly everything blurred and spun together. She thought she heard the nauseating screech of tires; saw the bright white headlights; felt metal tear through her flesh.
"Regina! Hey!" She suddenly felt someone shaking her and looked up at Mrs. Stein, who was still surrounded by swirling black splotches. "Sweetie, do you need to see the doctor?"
Regina shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. I just-" she stood up quickly and nearly fell back down again.
Mrs. Stein caught her by the arm. "Why don't you sit out for the rest of practice?" she asked. "I'll get you some ice."
Nearly ten minutes later, Regina had still not managed to regain her breath. The pain in her ribs had waned to a dull ache, but she still felt shaky and lightheaded. By now her ice pack was half-way melted and she really wanted to get some more, but she was afraid that if she stood up, she would throw up or faint or maybe both.
From the field, Regina noticed Marianella whispering and giggling in a very un-Marianella-like manner with Emily, one of the Defense Guards and she knew without a doubt that they were talking about her. But that couldn't have been right. Marianella wasn't a gossip and she definitely wasn't a bitch. Both Marianella and Emily looked over at Regina furtively, realized she was looking and then dropped their eyes, snickering into their hands. Yep, that sealed it. They absolutely had been laughing at her. Regina's heart tightened and she grinded her teeth together. Emily and Marianella had no idea what she was going through. How dare they judge her? The nice thing about anger is that it makes you forget about your other pain. Or at least this was true for Regina at the moment. Her heart was still hammering and she was still short of breath, but the ache in her side and her dizziness had all but disappeared.
Regina hoped against all hope that she would have the room to herself when she got back to her dorm. She was planning on having a full-blown stress relief session in which she bit pencils in half, punched all of Gretchen's stuffed animals (Regina herself didn't have any and frankly, she thought it was a little embarrassing that Gretchen did) and screamed into her pillow until her throat was raw. Then, she planned on taking the last of the heavy-duty Oxycodone pills her physical therapist had prescribed (for emergencies only) and sleeping until morning. If she really did have re-broken ribs and a re-punctured lung, she guessed it could wait until tomorrow.
Unfortunately, when Regina arrived back home, Gretchen and a few of her Japanese friends from International Club were deeply engrossed in some weird anime movie about a girl who was half fish and half human. Regina slammed the door behind her and Gretchen looked up, alarmed. She quickly scurried to her feet. "Oh my God. Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.
Regina slammed her backpack on the floor and the contents spilled in all directions. "No!" she said sharply. "No, I'm really not okay! Does it look like I'm okay to you?"
Gretchen glanced at her friends (who Regina seemed to remember were named Yuriko and Ami – but those could have very well been the names of different besties of Gretchen's) and turned the TV to mute. "I think maybe you guys should go," she said. "I'll meet up with you for Kawaii Club later." The girls nodded, stood up and hurried out of the room without looking at Regina. What was "Kawaii Club" supposed to be? Regina wondered briefly. She seemed to recall Gretchen saying "Kawaii" was the Japanese word for "cute." So… "Cute Club?" That was a new one. Regina suddenly felt more than a little exhausted with Gretchen's retarded schedule.
"What happened?" Gretchen asked.
Regina flopped down on her bed and stared at the wall. "Nothing," she mumbled. "Just leave me alone, okay?"
"No way!" said Gretchen. "Did something happen? You look terrible! I mean, no offense. Not like terrible terrible. I mean, you never look terrible. Obviously. Just like…you look like totally, super freaked out, I guess." She paused for a second. "Oh my GOD!" she said, her voice suddenly rising at least two octaves. "Did someone…I mean, like…you weren't-"
Regina and Gretchen's floor had recently had an assembly about campus rape and Gretchen had been on edge ever since. "Oh my God, Gretchen! Of course not! Why would you even think that? It's the middle of the day. No. I just got hit in the ribs at practice. I'm fine."
"Oh," said Gretchen, returning to normal (although still loud) volume. "Are you okay?"
Regina was pretty sure Gretchen had already asked this. She just shrugged.
"Do you want anything? Ice? Aspirin? One of my Sonatas? Or do you think we should maybe call the school nurse? I mean, it was the same side with your broken ribs, wasn't it? You don't think they're broken again, do you?" She perched on the edge of the bed and Regina wanted to scream.
Instead, she said as calmly as she could: "don't you some cute little Japanese club meeting to go to?"
Gretchen bristled a little at this. "It's not 'cute,'" she said. "And, no, I don't have to go."
Lying on her side, Regina realized that the pain was beginning to return – not dull as it had been at practice, but sharp like rusty metal. "Go away!" she shouted, covering her head with a pillow.
Gretchen took a step back. "Jesus!" she snapped. "You don't have to be a bitch about it! Maybe this is why you haven't made any friends here!"
Regina was shocked for a moment. She lay still and didn't say a word. After all, she knew very well that the best way to get to Gretchen was by "being quiet" at her. Soon, Regina knew Gretchen would become uncomfortable with the silence and apologize. But she didn't.
"Look, are you really hurt? Like seriously bad?" Gretchen asked. "Do you want to go to the nurse?"
"NO!" Regina snapped.
Gretchen rolled her eyes dramatically and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.