“Well, take one,” Sacha snapped.
I blew out a breath in an attempt to calm myself. “I can’t. It’s ruined now!”
Sacha reached for a cupcake. “Oh, you’re such a baby, Mischa.”
That’s when I lost it. “A baby?! I’ve had enough of you, you brainless twats,” I snapped, and approached Sacha slowly, and if looks could kill, she would have been a goner. I didn’t think things through at all. I acted purely on impulse. To this day, I’m not quite sure what possessed me. I grabbed a cupcake and with so much rage in my heart, I smeared it all over her face. The sensation of performing this act brought unexpected and unbelievable pleasure and relief.
When I pulled from her, she just sat there, frozen, mouth agape, her face covered with white icing and gold smears. Shocked faces all around, the room was deadly quiet.
And I didn’t stop there… it felt too damn good to stop. I grabbed another, and smudged it all over Karen’s face. Everyone was too shocked to move, even when I picked up a third one and splattered it all over Suzie’s pretty long blonde hair when she turned away from me.
They all started to run as I threw cupcakes at them. I got one girl in the head and another one on the ass. I chased them all and threw cupcakes. When I reached for the last one, I was still crazed, feverish, still filled with an intense desire for revenge. I looked up and saw Anika and Mom sitting there, at the table. Mom was crying. That knocked some sense into me. Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. I plopped down at the table, next to her.
A few unfortunate happenings followed the ‘birthday incident’ as it came to be referred to. First, I got grounded for a month. Secondly, I was made to see a therapist again. And last but not least, I had to write apology letters to Sacha and every single girl at the party. Of course the letters made the rounds at Sacha’s school, and everyone heard about her batshit crazy little sister, Mischa.
8
Iknow I should go talk to Dr. Russell, but I also know I will do no such thing. Compulsion leads me to put one foot in front of the other to walk to the nearest bus stop, and hop on a bus. I exit at the spot where another city bus will lead me to Wright College Humbolt Park.
I’ve already justified the outing to myself. The weather is lovely, and I’m just going for a nice walk in Humbolt Park. Never mind that I’ve never shown any such inclination before.
I’ve worn a low-key ensemble — black leggings, a t-shirt, a dark sweater, and Guess shades. My hair is in a barely-there ponytail, and I’m wearing black ballet flats. If one didn’t know any better, they might think I was heading to go rob a bank.
I’m calm, until I finally get to my destination. As I approach the college, my heart is practically beating out of my ribcage. I close my eyes for a long second, and draw in a breath, just like Eva has shown me. The pristine manicured lawns and clean lines of the building soothe me. I feel somewhat protected by the mature trees all around me. I inhale a long breath of fresh air, standing next to a large tree, partially hidden by its majestic trunk. I fish my phone out of my purse and peruse it in an attempt to appear like a normal young person who is addicted to her phone. No, I’m not an obsessed middle-aged woman stalking a pretty young girl.
Students are milling about as I intently watch the main entrance of the college. I study the plain black sign, partially obscured by a group of people. How long am I going to stand here, waiting for her to come out? What am I hoping to get out of this? I have no clue. Will I attempt to talk to her? I know I probably won’t — my poor heart probably couldn’t handle it.
I know why she’s studying here. She’s making up a few courses, and is looking to enroll in a vet tech program — she loves animals. She struggles with school because of her dyslexia. I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I’ve always naturally excelled at school, never quite relating to people who struggle. I’m rooting for her. I really am. I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her.
I’ve been standing by the tree for over an hour. No one notices me. I finally give my legs a rest and sit cross-legged on the ground, and start to wonder if Ava is even there today. Of course she is — I saw it on her Instagram: a grouchy face selfie with the caption:Another day, another dollar. Off to classes.Perhaps she had early classes today and has already left. I check my watch. It’s now three o’clock, and I can’t stay much longer, but I know this compulsion, this urge to see her in the flesh will ground me here. I’m going to stay here until dark if needed. I can already see the text I will send Brian.
Sorry, got caught up with errands today. Please fend for yourselves and the boys. Maybe order pizza. :)
Of course he’ll wonder what the hell is going on with me since I never do that kind of thing. He’ll wonder if I’m having issues again, if I’m off my meds. He’ll demand to know exactly what I was doing, and as a result, I’ll need to make up a whole story. I’ll have plenty of time to do it on the bus back home.
I quickly check my Gmail account for the thousandth time. When I glance up from my phone, my heart skips a beat. I see her, walking down the pathway, next to a gangly young man. They’re both smiling widely. She’s as beautiful in real life — so young and sweet.
I’m not sure what propels me to get to my feet and follow them down the sidewalk. My pulse races, my hands feel clammy, and I struggle for air. There are quite a few people walking around thankfully, so I don’t feel too conspicuous.
There’s something quite exciting, quite delicious about being so close to her, so close I could reach out and touch her. So close, I can see the silkiness of her long hair, the intricate crochet stitching of her soft long-sleeved pink top, the frayed edges of her jean pockets, the roundness of her perfect little rear. I can even hear their conversation — they’re talking about one of their profs. Apparently, he’s so basic.
I’m not sure what that means. Boring perhaps?
The crowd has dispersed, and I now feel vulnerable. Do I keep going? Or do I just stop walking, and let them fade away. How far will I take it? She’s bound to notice me eventually. The boy tells her that she’s smart, that she should have more confidence in herself.
“Oh, Vince, you always say that,” she says, laughing.
“Because it’s true.”
At the moment, there’s no chance of her noticing me — she’s too immersed in her conversation. Bursts of laughter mixed with idle chit-chat. Joking around. She strikes me as a typical young woman. Does Vince know what she’s really like? Does he know about the older married high school teacher? Are they close enough for her to share all her secrets?
He asks her for her notes, and she suddenly jerks to a stop. He takes a few steps before he realizes that she’s bent down to reach into her backpack. He spots me as he turns, and shoots me a quizzical look, almost as if he knows what I’m up to. I stop breathing for a second, and I’m sure he sees the unmistakable panic and guilt in my eyes. He studies me for a beat, and I quickly scurry past the both of them, my heart pounding frantically.
I practically run away, careful not to appear rushed. I’m breathless, and struggling to walk straight. I have no clue where I’m heading but as soon as I hit the next intersection, I veer right, and as soon as they’re out of sight, I breathe again.
I make another right onto a quiet residential street, and I stop and lean against a light post. What have I achieved? Some might say I’ve achieved absolutely nothing. But for me, a compulsion was satisfied, an itch was scratched. I’ve seen her in the flesh, like I so desperately wanted to.
I barely make it back home in time to make dinner. Thankfully, I’ve planned ahead. I’ve bought a pre-made salad, and have taken out beef stroganoff from the freezer, and have already made a loaf of brioche in my breadmaker earlier in the day. All I need to do is heat up the stroganoff, slice the loaf and set the table.
