Little Battles (2 page)

It was only after a line was up my nose that I began to feel better. “Do you want to do one with me?”

Even though he was smiling, he shook his head. “I sell that shit, I don’t do it. It’ll rot your brain, not to mention your nose cartilage.”

“’s fine with me,” I said. “What do I need nose cartilage for?” I did one more line and shivered as the energy, the chemically electrified charge, coursed through me. I stood up and ran my hands through my hair. “Thanks.”

His eyes were hard and when I tried to leave, he wrapped his hand around my bicep. “I fucking mean it. You’d better pay me tomorrow. I don’t have time for this ‘just give me a little more time to get the money’ bullshit. Got it?”

I nodded, sniffing as my nose tickled and burned. “Yeah,” I huffed. “I’ve got the money at home. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Good.” He released my arm, but one of his hands moved to my chest as the other came to press between my legs, and he bit at my lower lip as my eyes slowly closed.

Shhhh! Quiet, Sophie.
My eyes snapped open and I pushed Aiden away, which made me stumble backwards until I hit the door, the doorknob sticking me hard in my lower back. I didn’t want to have sex with him.

“I’ll give you the money tomorrow,” I repeated as my hands found the knob behind me.

He licked his lips and smiled. “Good.”

Thank my deity of choice, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, that I had enough brain power to buy a few Vicodin from Aiden too. Monday was not going to be easy to handle.

I got up and immediately smoked out when I realized Tom was already gone. While I waited for Jason, my pot connection and ride to school, I took two halves of a pill.

I hadn’t slept at all Sunday and spent my entire night pushing thoughts around in my head, so I spent the first part of my day sleeping through all my classes. I liked it. I was sure that I had dreams, but I couldn’t sleep long enough to remember them. Before I knew it, I was smoking out again with Jason in the woods.

When I got to the greenhouse for Horticulture, Elliott was already at our table. I’d taken another half of the painkiller and was incredibly high, but still very, very tired. “Hey,” I said in greeting, never meeting his eyes.

He searched my face and it made me incredibly uncomfortable. I turned away as I sat down. I should’ve bought more coke from Aiden yesterday. A bump would’ve been great right about now. I pillowed my head on my folded arms.

“S-S-SSSophie?”

I didn’t look up when he said my name, but I didn’t want him to be upset that I didn’t respond. He’d take it as me not liking him or something, and then the kicked-puppy look would appear. “What, Elliott?”

“Are y-you o-o-okay?”

Closing my eyes, I tried to banish what I heard in my head.
Shhhh! Quiet, Sophie. Don’t wake your mother.
I nodded against my arms. “I’m good, Elliott. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Are y-you g-going to take n-notes?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m sure it’ll be more of the same.”

I wasn’t sure if he said anything else because I let my mind drift off on a codeine-induced wave of numbness. I think I might’ve fallen asleep, since I started to have thoughts of beds and bodies in the hidden depths of night falling away from me.

Before I could get into Jason’s car to leave school, I felt a strong hand wrap around my arm. “You have my money?”

I looked up and saw Aiden. Fuck. “I forgot it at home.” His hold on me tightened. “OW! Jesus! I have it, just not here.”

He pressed me back against the door of the car and leaned in close. “Don’t play games, Sophie. Give me the fucking money.”

“It’s at home.”

“What the fuck?” Someone growled behind me.

I turned, very happy to find that Jason had finally made it to his car. While Aiden moved away just an inch, he tightened his hold on my arm. I’d be surprised if I wasn’t bruised.

“You’d better tell your girl here that she needs to pay me my money.”

Jason’s gaze shifted from Aiden, to me, and then back. It seemed like his whole body sighed. “How much does she owe you?”

“Sixty, and it’s going to be rounded up to a hundred if it’s not in my hands right fucking now.”

Again Jason sighed, then snuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, unwrapping three bills and shoving them toward Aiden. Finally, my arm was released, but instead of feeling better, the blood rushing back made my arm hurt even more.

“Next time,” Aiden said to me, his face still way too close, “you’ll have my fucking money before you get your shit.”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever. I’m not a bank and I don’t give out loans. You want some shit, you’ll have the fucking money in-hand first.”

“Fine,” Jason cut in, this time grabbing my arm and pulling me toward him. “She gets it, okay?”

“She’d better, Fox.”

Aiden walked away and Jason opened the car door for me. It wasn’t until we were both inside that he said, “Jesus Christ, Sophie.”

“What? I’ll pay you back when we get to my house.”

“That’s not the fucking point. You can’t keep Aiden waiting like that. He’s not like me. I get my weed from laid-back hippie folks who grow just to have something to do with their land. The people he gets his shit from are bad people. They’d have no problem killing him if the money wasn’t right, and let me also explain to you how Aiden would also have no problem kicking the shit out of you if you owed him money.”

I rolled my eyes, but knew he was speaking the truth. I’d known dealers worse than small-town Aiden. “Don’t be so dramatic, Jason.”

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, Sophie.”

In my room, as I shoved money in his hand, he said, “You could say thank you.”

I could’ve if I really meant it, but I didn’t need Jason saving me. If Aiden wanted to hit me over sixty bucks, it would have been fine with me. I could take a punch and wasn’t afraid of a little pain.

I immediately went for the button-fly of his pants. “If you say please, I’ll say thank you.”

I didn’t go to school on Tuesday. The mere mention of “female problems” and Tom flew out of the house, mumbling something about heating pads and a busy day. I’d thought that it would be a peaceful, restful day, but I was wrong.

There were even fewer distractions at home than there was at school. Fewer distractions meant more unbidden thoughts.

So I slept.

I slept from eight in the morning until ten at night. I vaguely remember Tom knocking on the door, saying something about eating, but other than that, I was out.

I dreamt and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t seem to wake from it.

It was after eleven when I finally opened the two e-mails from Elliott. The first was our usual question and answer. The second one asked just one question:
Are you okay?

Why the hell couldn’t he just not care like every other person in my life? Why did he have to be so damned concerned and shit? Couldn’t he just want to bang me like everyone else?

Hell, no. Elliott had to be all kind and caring with his puppy eyes and Otis Redding dances.

No, Elliott, I’m not okay,
I replied.
But I’ll answer your questions anyway.

My favorite smell and my favorite flower are the same: Lilac.

I like books that are about things I’ll never experience. Classic romance stories are all about how tangled up one can get with all that shit, and I’ve never allowed myself to get tangled up.

I like ice cream, but I don’t eat it much.

I don’t dream or have career goals because what’s the point? I could say that I want to be a photographer, but who gives a shit? I’ll probably just end up working at IHOP or something.

I don’t think there would be anything I wouldn’t do on the day before the earth exploded.

You can come over tomorrow. I’ll cook you dinner.

Here are my questions:

1. What’s your favorite smell?
   
2. Why didn’t you watch cartoons as a child?
   
3. Out of everyone in the world, why on earth do you want to be friends with me?
   
4. You do realize just how fucked up I am, right?
   
5. Do you realize that I’m not a good friend?
   

Bonus: Is there anything that you’ve done that you wish you could take back?

I’ll see you in school tomorrow.

S.

I probably should have just cut the whole thing off with Elliott, not even answering the email and not letting him entertain the thought that it was a good idea to be my friend, but I had to acknowledge there was something about him that made me
need
to be around him.

I was going to have to rein myself in just a little bit. I’d allow myself to be his friend, but I wouldn’t keep going the way we were. Remembering how to keep it together was crucial, because I certainly didn’t need to continue to let myself get swept up into…

Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was in pretty deep with him already, and I could never take back what I’d told him. He had the knowledge now, and nothing could change that.

I barely slept Tuesday night and went to school on Wednesday, powered by nothing but fumes. I remembered to eat only because Tom reminded me during the few minutes in the morning that I saw him. I was pretty sure I had sex with Jason in his car before school, but I wasn’t entirely positive.

I was high, not just from the pot on the way to school, but also from sleep deprivation. I’d never slept particularly well, but I’d usually managed at least five hours. Ever since those words started shouting in my head, it was even worse.

During school, I did my best to retrain my mind again. I was in control of my thoughts. I was in control of what I felt, and I wouldn’t let myself get involved in the whispers of the past again.

Elliott was coming over after school, and I would prove to myself that I could still keep my shit private. It was all about keeping it in a box and ignoring the crowbar Elliott kept using to pry it open.

In order to ignore, I tried to go on autopilot, which worked for the majority of the school day. I listened to Jane tell me about Homecoming, and at lunch I nodded in the appropriate places when the kids I sat with said anything. I didn’t have sex with Jason during Study Hall; we just smoked pot, neither one of us really talking.

Autopilot failed in Horticulture, of course, because Elliott was there. My plan had been to sleep again. Surely, he would’ve understood that I was tired. When I sat down, he slid a few crisp sheets of paper over to me. I looked down and recognized his very careful script.

“I c-copied my notes f-for you.”

I focused my eyes on the paper and looked at how well-laid-out the notes were. He was entirely too nice to me. Elliott seemed to care when no one else did, and I wanted to be pissed about it. I wanted to yell at him and tell him to leave me the hell alone. I wanted to go back to being a nameless face in a crowd of kids. I wanted to take back my first day and do it over.

If that were possible, I would have never spoken to Connor. I would have never found myself walking with him and the biggest asshole at Damascus High, Chris Anderson, and then Elliott would have never bumped into me.

I wouldn’t be stuck with all these fucking feelings.