“Pre-med turned public health,” Pali says. “Junior. I like telling systems to behave.”
They look at me, and I fiddle with my pen. “Social work,” I say.
Saying it out loud makes me feel like I’m actually going through with it in a way, like an out-loud promise no one else knows about. “Sophomore. I—” I stop myself before just saying it, thinking it might sound too cliché. “I want to help people.”
I told you, it sounds dumb, but it’s the truth. The system I came up in sucks so badly. Maybe there’s room for improvement.
Pali’s mouth does that soft smile that means she’s listening, and she likes what she hears. “Welcome to yelling at systems with me,” she says. “It’s more fun with friends.”
“I’m also still catching up in this class,” I admit. “Late add. First day was…the day we got assigned this project. So I have, like, half a semester of stress lions to meet.”
“I can help,” Pali says immediately. “One-on-one, if you want. You have my number now. We can make a plan. I’m an excellent tyrant if you like that kind of help.”
Jaden tilts his head at her, fascinated. “You’re terrifying in the best kind of way.”
“Andyou’rechaos in the laziest way,” she counters, deadpanning.
He looks delighted, even smitten a little. “Teach me your ways,” he says, mock-bowing. “I will forget, and you will remind me, and I will pretend it was always my idea.”
“Deal,” she says, returning to her list with the tiniest smirk.
They somehow get into their own little weird bubble of conversation. Kind of an odd pair that just…works. Bash turns a little, facing me more. If I leaned a fraction, I’d be touching him. I don’t, but my mind is very aware of it. My phone is still in my hands, finishing a text to Lani. I quickly place it face down on my notebook, turning towards him like it’s no big deal to be this close and have his attention on me.
“How are your other classes?” he asks, not fishing for conversation or anything, just being friendly.
“Newly terrifying,” I say. “But I think it’s just the whole doing it all sober now thing.”
He nods like he understands, and hearing him at group the other day made me realize he mightactuallyunderstand in a way I didn’t realize before.
“I get that. My first two years were spent drowning it all out too, and barely making it by.”
“Yeah, I caught a littleof that in group. But…you’re doing good now? Is it…still hard some days?”
“Some days, yeah,” he says. “Not most days, though, not anymore. But yeah, I’m doing good, haven’t touched anything in almost two years now.”
“Wow,” I tell him, genuinely impressed. “That’s pretty cool.”
He laughs a little. “Doesn’t feel ‘cool’ sometimes, but I’m learning whatotherpeople mightthinkis cool ain’t all it’s actually cracked up to be.”
“What made you choose Psych?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s thinking about why or if the why is just hard to say out loud.
“Um, my…sister. She…she committed suicide my senior year of high school. I guess this feels like the best way I can be used to help others like her. Seemed like something she’d be proud of me doing. Plus I like the way the mind works, how it’s like a puzzle you have to figure out…even when it’s your own.”
My heart drops at that. Knowing that he watched me try to do the same thing his sister did, how he must have felt when he found me. I fucking hate myself for that in this moment. I almost want to apologize to him for it…but I can’t. I can’t make myself think about that time right now. I don’t think I’m really in a place to mentally even bring it up. So I try to steer it somewhere safer.
“She’d be proud.”
“Thanks, I’m still working on fully believing that.”
“Why?”
He rubs the back of his neck, and I see in his eyes there’s so much more for him to say that he just can’t. “I don’t know, just a lot I’m still working through around her death. I’m still a work in progress, just like everyone else. Still trying to train my brain better.”
“Don’t go therapisting yourself now.”
He laughs at that, and I can’t help but smile when I see it. His laugh and his smile could literally make any bad day better.
