Most days it felt like drowning in a world that was emotionless. Feelings felt like punishment for having a gentle heart. A few of my old friends tried to connect with me after Rian died, but they didn’t really understand how I’d changed. I didn’t blame them. I exhausted myself a lot of the time, too.
I knew Karla’s heart was gentle, even though she tried to seem hardened. I saw myself in her letters. Her words felt so familiar to me, like she’d crawled into my brain and transcribed every thought.
I’d never met another person who had the same thoughts, up until I read her words. I understood why it could be easier to breathe with the dead. Most people were wandering through life holding their breath. Afraid of failure. Afraid of heartbreak. Afraid of living.
That final breath before death probably felt like the best exhale of one’s existence. I wondered if Rian’s last breath felt that way.
Seeing Karla’s words first and then meeting her in person made me release the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. What was it about her sadness that seemed so comforting to me? She walked through the halls with her hair covering her face, especially the side with the intense scars, and her stare seemed fixated on the floor, as if she were counting every tile throughout the building.
She was soft-spoken. Each word seemed as if it was dippedin hesitation of some kind. She moved slowly with her limp and made sure, or tried, to stay out of everyone’s way. That bothered me. I didn’t know why, but it did.
I sat in math class, fidgeting with the small red toy truck in the pocket of my hoodie. The classroom was loud. Not because people were talking, but because of the busyness of the shuffling paper and pens. The fluorescent lights overhead had a slight hum to them as one flickered in and out. There was even a small crackle sound that came from the intercom that shared the morning announcements.
I sat in the back corner of the room, staring at the backs of everyone’s heads, thinking about Karla. I welcomed the thoughts of her. It was nice to have someone living occupy my mind.
Adiós, mi amiga.
I’d never live that down. I wouldn’t blame Karla if she avoided me for the rest of the semester.
After class, I ran into Karla in the hallway twice. Well, I didn’t run into her. I didn’t even speak to her. I noticed her, though, walking out of hernot-Spanish class first. Then I noticed her walking into the cafeteria.
I had to remind myself not to stare at her for too long. I knew she hated when people stared at her, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away. Not because of her scars or anything, but because she felt like me. Lonely, but OK with being alone. Sad, but used to the sadness.
I wondered if she’d want to eat lunch with me. It would be nice to have someone to sit with, though I wasn’t certain she’d want to sit with me. I’d been sitting by myself at the end of the table where the band kids ate. They never interacted with me, but I watched them a lot.
The band kids talked about crap I didn’t understand, andbehind our table were the theater kids who definitely talked about stuff I didn’t understand. For some reason they were obsessed with a guy named Aaron Burr and this dude named Hamilton who should’ve said no to some chick in a red dress. Don’t even get me started on the popular kids’ tables. I used to sit with those people at my old school. Now I had nothing in common with those kinds of groups. Most of them were bullies, and there wasn’t anything I hated more than bullies.
My eyes scanned the large space for Karla. When I saw her standing in line for lunch, I followed her lead and hopped in line, too, standing a few people behind her. The cafeteria buzzed with more intense noise. Hungry people pushed their way through the space, in search of food that would cause diarrhea later on. Students shouted because it was the one time during the day that we weren’t expected to sit down and shut up. The smell of overused frying oil and burnt pizza filled the space as people grabbed extra cartons of chocolate milk to drown out the stale french fries.
As Karla collected her food, her shoulders stayed curved forward. I wondered if that was due to her condition or because of her trying to make herself appear small. She whispered a quiet thank you to the lunch lady before lifting her tray to retreat.
Right as that happened, she turned to her left and ran straight into a group of three people. Two girls and one guy.
“Oh my gosh, watch where you’re going, Quasimodo,” one of the girls remarked, shoving Karla in the shoulder.
My chest tightened. I lowered my own tray, keeping my eyes on the interaction.
The other girl didn’t join in, but she didn’t stop the bullying either.
The first girl kept snickering as she shoved Karla’s other shoulder. “Who let you out from under the bridge, troll?”
A simmering rage began to build inside of me as I witnessed Karla apologize to them.Sheapologized tothem! That pissed me off more than it should’ve. Did Rian do the same? Did he apologize to his bullies? Did his shoulders stay rounded as he stared at the ground? Did he feel so deeply alone that he thought the only way to move forward was to bend over backward for assholes?
My chest was on fire as I witnessed the incident take place. What was it with jerks? Why couldn’t they just leave people alone?
As Karla tried to walk off, her body somehow grew even smaller. Before she could escape, though, the guy stepped forward. He snatched one of her fries and tossed it into his mouth. “A fry tax, for you making us look at your ugly face,” he remarked. I knew the guy: Colton Stevens.
He was some senior who walked around the halls like a big shot, talking crap about any and everyone. He was dating a girl, Missy, who was a few years younger than him. She stood there watching the whole situation take place, not saying a word, but I swore a part of her looked at Karla with guilt in her eyes. She was probably too scared to stand up to her boyfriend.
Fortunately, I didn’t care what Colton said to me. “Hey, piss off, asshat!” I hollered, making the group turn toward me.
Colton puffed out his chest. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said, ‘Piss off, asshat,’” I repeated with just as much confidence as the first time. Rian had needed someone like me. Someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to assholes. I wasn’t there for my brother, and I blamed myself for that every single day.
I started in Colton’s direction with a lot more insults I wanted to deliver his way but stopped the moment Karla’s eyes locked with mine. She shook her head, her eyes widened with panic and fear. Then she mouthed, “Don’t.”
She ordered me to not stand up for her.
