09/14/2015

chapter eight ;

♡

point of view.

not an option. The moment the alarm clock blared, signaling six o'clock, whatever wisp of sleep I had managed to catch hold of fled. At most, I had gotten two minutes of actual sleep – the previous hour had consisted of attempting to sleep, and the hours before . . . a much more complicated story to tell.

Tears burned at my tired eyes. Every bone and muscle in my body was sore; every nerve had been shot. Not only was I utterly fatigued, but I was also collapsing under the weight of stress. And the worst part of it all: I had to get up in a few hours to work. To restart the endless cycle.

After turning off my phone completely, I allowed myself to return to my previous state. My eyes fluttered shut effortlessly. Curling my body around the long pillow beside me, I released a sigh. The tire alone made me want to burst into tears. To sleep forever. To give up.

Of the time I was uncertain. All I knew was, before I could actually fall asleep, my bedroom door swung open.

"Get up, Liz. It's time for school."

"Ever heard of knocking?" I grumbled, adjusting myself so that my face was buried into my pillow.

"Yeah, but you didn't answer."

Eyes remaining closed, my eyebrows pulled together. "You knocked? I must be out of it. I didn't think I fell asleep."

The bed dipped down beside me. "Yeah, well, we have ten minutes to get to school."

"Go away, Benny, I'm obviously not going," I said, voice muffled by the pillow. Every simple thing seemed to anger me lately – the tired, grouchy side of me was now the actual me, it felt. Talking was an immense and annoying effort.

"Why not?"

The anger grew in my chest – but it was mixed with something else. Because when I opened my eyes to tell Benny off, I choked up, and a second later, the tears flowed from my burning eyes. And no matter how hard I tried to pull myself together, the tears only grew hotter and more consistent. I felt weak in every way – mentally and physically.

Benny sat still for a moment, unsure of what to say. But he ended up not speaking at all, not asking for an explanation; he simply lay down beside me, wrapping me in his arms. Lying there in the arms of my little brother, I felt smaller than ever.

"It's okay," Benny whispered, his cheek pressed against my head. My forehead pressed against his chest, and I gripped onto his shirt. "Just let it out."

If only he knew.

A minute later, though, I pushed Benny away from me lightly. "Go," I sighed, vigorously wiping at my puffy eyes, swallowing the painful lump in the back of my throat. "You don't need to be late for school."

Benny nodded, reluctant to leave me. He placed a kiss on my forehead. "Okay. Get some sleep, okay? And call off work. You look like death. Love you."

"Love you too."

The tears dried on my face, leaving a cracked and funny feel to my skin. But that hardly mattered. Finally, while I could, I rested my head and eyes. Even still, the throbbing in my temple prevented my consciousness from slipping away, even considering the fact that in the past few days, I had only gotten seven hours of sleep at most.

Eventually, my conscious state of mind gave way.

The inky sky was splattered with millions of stars – more than I had ever seen. The pure moon was full and unnaturally large; I could reach up and brush my fingers against it. I sat upon a mountain, although it was more of a cliff – my legs dangled over the edge, a steep drop that fell beneath the thin clouds. Thousands of feet below me, city lights twinkled. The image was breathtaking. Only when he appeared, though, did the picture become perfect.

"Hey, Liz," his soft voice spoke, his perfect face looming over me. And his bright eyes reflected the stars. His dark hair was slicked back, with a stray hunk hanging over his forehead, like a greaser. He was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even in the location I sat now.

"Hi, Luke."

The boy sat down beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Together, we admired the view – except my view was much different from his, because while he stared at the city below, all I could look at was his face. He had always looked like something from a dream, especially now.

"You should have come to school," Luke said, although how the thought could possibly run through his mind under the circumstances, I had no idea. "I wanted to see you."

"I wanted to see you too, but I'm just so tired," I replied. On the contrary, my eyes were wide and alert.

"I know." Luke's gaze found me, and his eyes locked with mine. "I wish I could take that away from you."

"You don't want this," I mumbled. A horrible mental pain erupted in my mind as the memories flooded back –

"If it meant you didn't have to carry it, I would," Luke insisted. "I don't want you to suffer."

"Why?"

Luke stared at me as if I had asked a stupid question – as if he felt astonished to even have to answer me – as if I had already known, in which case I truly could not comprehend.

"Because I love you." A dreamy smile broke out onto his face – softer than usual. "Don't you know that?"

Strangely, the answer did not come as a surprise. A familiar sensation blossomed in my heart – the love he spoke of. And I had felt it plenty of times; it was odd that I had somehow forgotten that Luke loved me. But I remembered now. Even his lips, which I had previously believed I had never tasted, felt like home when he kissed me –

Suddenly, I jerked awake. The feeling of euphoria remained in my heart, in the deepest pit of my stomach, in every inch of my brain. It took me quite a while to realize that I had actually been dreaming – and then I fought the urge to cry again.

After a minute, I was able to push the remnants of the dream from my mind. Feeling well-rested for once, I slid out of my bed and trudged to the bathroom in the hallway. The house was utterly silent; I even found myself walking on the tips of my toes.

Once I stood before the mirror and faced my reflection, the urge to burst into tears arrived once more. Even though I finally felt caught up on sleep, the stress and fatigue had done a number on me; circles as dark as bruises were under my eyes, and my eyes were puffy and red.

Looking closer, I realized another horrible feature about myself. Amidst my black hair shone several strands of gray. Biting back a groan, I yanked the gray strands out fiercely, along with a few of my natural color.

Suddenly, my mind wandered to another matter. The alarm clock had not woken me up. Surely I could not have woken up on my own, considering how tired I was. . . . I could have slept for days, truthfully. So I darted back into my room, plucking my phone from under my pillow. When I pressed the home button, the screen remained black. And the horrible realization washed over me . . . I had turned off my phone earlier that morning.

With dread in my heart, I powered my phone on. With my luck, the time would be late afternoon, meaning that I had missed work – which also meant that I would fall behind on the bills my mother could not pay. Every single penny that I worked for counted, and now all of my efforts will have gone down the drain. I had already been given warnings from my boss that if I showed up late again, I would be fired. And who else would give a high school student as many hours as possible?

One of the many jobs I had worked since the summer, my current job, was at a restaurant. Due to payment problems, the restaurant greatly lacked employees. I was willing to work as much as possible for as much as I could earn, which, admittedly, was not quite fair to me; I cooked, waited tables, washed dishes, cleaned – I did everything. And while all the hard work exhausted me, it was all to keep my family afloat.

Finally, the time was revealed on my phone, and my heart dropped to the soles of my feet. Five-thirty. School had let out hours ago, and I was three hours late to work. Hands shaking furiously, I dialed the number of the restaurant –

"Hey," a soft voice spoke from my bedroom door. I whirled around, nearly dropping my phone, to find him standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.

"Luke," I squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you," Luke said, his face very serious. "You were right not to come to school today."

I swallowed the lump that forced its way into my throat, squeezing my phone tightly. "Yeah, I was way too tired. Got no sleep."

"Yeah, and it's good you finally got some," Luke said. "And that you're finally going to quit that stupid job at Keller's place. He's a dick, and it isn't worth it – "

"Wait," I broke in, "who said I was quitting?"

"Me. Benny," Luke listed. "Kayla. . . . Lynn."

I shook my head. "No, I need that money, Luke, you know that – "

"You aren't getting it that way, Liz, I won't let you," Luke interrupted in a stern tone. "Not anymore. I'm tired of sitting around, watching you work yourself to death. You're still a kid, Liz, you don't deserve this."

The tears threatened to return, although it was not Luke's words that hurt me. "Luke," I whispered, "you know how important this is. They aren't going to let her work, and we've lived in this house forever. I grew up in this house, from the time I was born. I'd rather keep it than live in the streets."

Luke shook his head. "The bills are paid, Liz."

"What?"

"I took care of it," Luke explained. "They're all paid, and the money you've made, you can put that away for college. You're going to make something of yourself, Liz, because you can." Luke stepped forward, sounding angry now. "I will make sure of that. You've always . . . You've always been there for me, and you've always put everyone before yourself. You would work until you died just to keep the ones you love in a good place, and everyone respects that. I respect that so much that I'm willing to take it off of your hands. From now on, Liz, you worry about yourself. I have plenty of money saved up that I can make up easily when it's needed – "

"No, Luke." The words, however, sent a jolt in my spine. He sounded similar to himself in my dream. If only. . . .

"Yes!" Luke exclaimed, stepping forward again. "I won't let you put yourself through this anymore. You deserve a break. And today, that is exactly what you're going to get. Where do you want to go?"

"What?"

Luke finally stepped in front of me, and he placed a hand on my shoulder, his eyes – no longer reflecting the stars, but as beautiful as the ocean – locked on mine. "Today's your lucky day." The trace of a smile curved on his lips. "Anywhere you want to go, we'll go. And if you don't answer, I'll choose for us."

"I don't want you wasting your money on me, Luke," I sighed, sitting down onto my bed. "Especially if you just paid the bills . . . I'm fine. I really am."

"Pick a place. You're not getting out of this."

point of view.

Across the table she sat, studying her knuckles. The cuts on her knuckles and lip had scabbed over, but the bruises still looked fresh, despite the fact that three days had passed since the fight. Her black eyebrows knitted together.

"I honestly feel kind of bad."

"What?" I asked – while I studied the length of her eyelashes, an odd thing that I had never thought would mean anything to me, I had lost concentration.

Makayla rolled her eyes. "For the fight. You should have seen her after I got pulled away – she was all bloody, and I feel horrible."

I laughed. "You're a strange person. One moment, you're busting someone's ass, and the next, you feel bad for busting their ass."

She shrugged, touching her eye – the bruise was not as prominent as the ones of her fists, but it was still quite dark. "She got me, too, so I guess it's fair. And she didn't pull hair or anything, so props to her – "

"You beat her up, and now you're giving her compliments?" I laughed. "You're a really strange person."

A smile curved Makayla's lips, and her eyes finally focused solely on me. "Shut up, Benny. I feel better knowing that she wasn't, like, a victim or anything. I didn't walk away without a scratch, you know? So I respect her for actually fighting the non-bitch way."

I rolled my eyes, smirking. "How about there be no fighting at all. I know it's like a normal part of your life, but I don't like violence. I guess it's sometimes necessary, like with Derek and his guys – and I definitely don't mind about Phillips getting punched – but otherwise, it's just not worth it. You could have just ignored Nicole, and you wouldn't have to be feeling bad right now."

"You must not understand what it's like to be talked down to in front of the entire classroom, then," Makayla grumbled, averting her eyes to her knuckles again. "She was talking shit, calling me a bitch and a pussy, and I had never even seen her before. And people cheered her on, which really pissed me off, so I had to let them know that I'm not scared – "

"That's your problem, Kayla," I said. "You care too much about what people think of you. If you had just ignored her, then I'd be able to kiss you without hurting you. You wouldn't be suspended."

Makayla's brows furrowed. "Are you mad or something?"

I shrugged, picking at my nails. After years at the sandlot, the dirt never seemed to go away. "I just don't like when you get in trouble. It kind of gives you a bad image, and that just isn't who you are."

"I thought my problem was that I cared what people thought of me," Makayla shot back – a good point, which made me feel a bit dumb.

Before I had the chance to reply, a lady returned with a salad and a bowl of boneless, honey-barbecue wings. As if the conversation of her faults had never happened, Makayla's eyes lit up at the sight.

"Thank you," Makayla said to the waitress.

"No problem." The waitress' eyes flickered to me, only to reside there for a few moments. She flashed a seductive smile, then walked away, swaying her hips. A frown of discomfort grew on my face, and I looked down at my lap. I fully expected Makayla to get angry, but –

"She can stare at you all she wants," Makayla shrugged, grabbing a wing. "But you're always mine."

A bright grin found its way onto my face. "I know."

The minutes passed, and Makayla and I took our time. Luke had taken Elizabeth to the beach and out to eat – and considering the previous morning, I agreed that she needed a break. The stress was clear, although she shielded me from the cause.

Eventually, the peaceful air around just me and Makayla ceased. A girl with extremely curly hair – brown highlighted with a golden blonde – walked toward us. When I realized that she was approaching our table, I traced her line of vision. And her eyes were focused on Makayla.

"Hey," the girl greeted in a bright tone the moment Makayla noticed her. "Sorry to bother you, but you're Makayla, right?"

"Yeah." Makayla leaned back in her chair to get a better look at the girl, her arms crossed over her chest. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," the girl replied – her curls bounced as she spoke. "We go to the same school. My name is Ivy."

"Okay."

Fortunately, I caught myself before I could say a word. Makayla's tone sounded slightly rude, and I almost spoke on it – which, I quickly realized, would be a horrible idea. But Ivy hardly seemed to mind. A smile remained on her glossy lips.

"Yeah, I really just wanted to let you know I, like everybody else, saw the fight between you and Nicole," Ivy continued. "And it was probably the best fight I've seen – none of that hair-pulling shit, you know?"

"Yeah." Makayla sounded quite uninterested.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding creepy," Ivy chuckled, "but you seem like a really cool person. I know you're new, too, so if you ever want to hang out . . . Here's my number."

Ivy handed Makayla a ripped piece of napkin with a phone number scribbled in blue pen. Truthfully, I was surprised when Makayla took the napkin; part of me expected her to leave Ivy hanging.

With a goodbye, Ivy left me and Makayla alone. A moment of silence passed between the two of us. Then I asked, "You gonna text her?"

Makayla shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not."

The edges of my lips quirked. "Okay, well – that salad isn't going to eat itself."

She plucked another barbecued wing from the plastic bowl. "Does trying to eat healthy count if you add wings to the meal?"

The way her face twisted in what looked like genuine curiosity, the way her soft voice rose in question – the smallest things that should have meant nothing warmed me inside. And then I found myself noticing all of the features that I admired every day, since the day I met her: the freckles that sprinkled her face; the contrast of her long, black eyelashes and the oceanic color of her eyes; the way her dimples appeared every time she chewed; the way she had absolutely no use for makeup – to me, she was as beautiful as she could be.

Makayla's eyebrows rose. "Does it? And why are you looking at me like that, weirdo?"

My cheeks began to burn, but I just chuckled. "I just love you." And I did – I knew I did. Although I was young and had never had a real relationship, had never loved someone in a romantic way, I knew that this was love. When engulfed in silence later on, I found myself dreading the thought of losing her.

point of view.

Despite the fact that skipping work would definitely jeopardize my home life, I could not say that I had not enjoyed my time with Luke. Nighttime had arrived by the time we finally left the beach, and I could feel the sunburn grow more painful. Needless to say, we had not exactly been well prepared – sunblock had been forgotten.

Luke went as far as traveling to Hollywood to eat at a cute little restaurant whose tables all resided on the roof. The restaurant clearly called for a more fancy attire, but neither Luke nor I had a problem with wearing jeans and T-shirts.

Finally, the night neared an end – and the natural high of happiness began to wear away. During the drive home, my temple pressed against the window; the palm trees, glowing lights and pedestrians were a blur. I almost did not notice that, while driving, Luke stared at the screen of his phone.