“It’s different now,” he replies with resolute conviction, standing up tall, like he’s a coach about to give an inspirational speech. “You’re not alone anymore. Anything you face, we have your back.” Then with a conspiratorial smirk, he adds “Superheroes gotta have their sidekicks, right? Don’t tell Donovan I called him a sidekick.”
“Thanks, Casper,” I murmur with a half-hearted chuckle, doing my best to hide the sadness and concern that’s eating me up inside. “We can go with Avengers or Justice League. An ensemble of heroes.”
Felix shrugs, looking over at me with one of his sweet, boy-next-door smiles. “Eh, I don’t mind being the Robin to your Batman… er, Batgirl. Batwoman?”
“Should I start calling you Boy Wonder?” I joke, pushing my face to make the right expressions, because I’m scared of him seeing how messed up I feel.
“Naw. I like Casper.” He grins and pulls at his shirt. “Better merchandise.”
Hiding my hands in the lower pockets of my leather jacket, I make tight fists-- as if I can physically hold my sanity together. It’s too soon to lose my shit, but my mind has other plans.
I’m truly grateful that the guys took one look at me and decided to claim me as one of their own, but something I’ve never considered before coming here is becoming apparent. The more people I let in-- the more people I care about-- leaves more people vulnerable to being used against me. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.
What if Gina sees that her attacks against me aren’t working and decides to focus on one of the boys?Her go to is ruining people’s reputations-- what if her next target is Kaleb? What if she antagonizes Connor or Donovan into doing something they can’t come back from? She already cursed Nolan so he gets sick if he tries to drink bagged blood, and she supposedly likes him.
These thoughts are a barrage of sharp pricks filled with poison, whispering that I should push the guys away to protect them. That I will only cause them pain. Desperate for anything to silence my thoughts, I bite the inside of my bottom lip so hard the copper taste of blood coats my tongue.
I try to feed the little voice of reason that plays the sad look in Kaleb’s eyes when I even hinted at cutting the boys out, and the angry growl of Donovan reminding me that ‘my shit was their shit.’ I remember the relief in Connor’s eyes when I woke from my nightmare on Saturday. The feel of Nolan’s long fingers through my hair when he soothes me. The way Felix held me while I cried.You need them,the voice assures,and maybe they need you, too.
∞∞∞
“Miss Santiago, do you have any idea why I called you in?” Mrs. Cartwright asks, once proper introductions are made, and I’m sitting in a chair opposite her desk.
She’s a middle aged woman with generous curves, brown eyes magnified by red rimmed glasses, and tight curly hair that has even amounts of brown and grey woven throughout. Dressed in a wool sweater, brown slacks, and a large beaded necklace, she has a hippy, grandmother vibe.
Her office is clearly designed to try to relax and engage the troubled teens she deals with on a daily basis: ironically hung motivational posters on the walls, comfortable deep set chairs, pillows and stuffed animals to hug, and a whole shelf in her bookcase filled with different types of candy. Unfortunately for me, it has the opposite effect.
The room feels dark and claustrophobic, lit more by the fluorescent lights above than any natural light-- the skies an oppressive dark grey, visible through the small window behind me.
Old memories of another older woman, in an office a lot like this, leaps to mind. I can still hear her whispery voice, like she couldn’t seem to get in enough air, as she told my bastard of a father that the administration was concerned I was self-harming to gain attention. It didn’t matter what I said in my defense; she refused to believe me. Instead, she talked over me and around me to the man that I’d later find out was the real culprit behind my accidents. And the Bastard just nodded with the proper worried parent expression, while internally he was probably laughing at the woman’s ignorance.
I stuff my hands between my knees to keep Mrs. Cartwright from seeing them shake, while a cold sweat builds on the back of my neck, and my heart pounds violently in my chest.
“You can do this, pretty girl,” Felix assures from the chair next to me. “Just tell her the truth-- well, what you can of it. I’m right here with you.”
Tears already burn in my eyes, and we haven’t even started.Fuck, fuck, fuck. Breathe, Callie. Breathe.
I feel like a deer in headlights, already unsure how I’m supposed to answer her question. Do I lie and tell her no, I don’t know why I’m here? Or do I tell her about this morning, only to learn I was called in for something dumb like there’s an issue with my transcripts?
I decide to stay tight lipped and shake my head no.
She gives me a gentle, understanding look, with wrinkles bunching around the sides of her lips as her mouth turns down at the corners. Sure enough, she pulls one of the pamphlets that poured out of my locker this morning from her desk drawer.
“Do you know what this is?” She holds it out to me.
Knots build in my stomach, as I reach out to take it from her, desperate to find the right words to explain what’s going on. When I look down at the cruel words written in red sharpie, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“What the...?” Felix whispers, his warm timbre infused with shock reading the words, as I stare at the paper in my hand.
It no longer says,KILL YOURSELF!Instead, it’s a frightening desperate plea--PLEASE KILL ME!
No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Not again!
“Callie-- is it okay if I call you Callie?” Mrs. Cartwright asks, pulling her woolen sleeves up to her elbows.
I give a disjointed nod, words seemingly stuck in my throat. My necklace is warm again, and I feel like I’m drowning. I thought I was prepared for them not to believe me, but this… how do I fight against this?
“Say something,” Felix encourages, getting up to kneel in front of me. “It doesn’t matter what it says, you didn’t do this.”
