FicWad

So I’m headed to New Mexico tomorrow and I’ll be there until Wednesday- meaning no good television shows, no video games, and no internets :’c
Wish me luck, for I don’t know how I’ll ever survive (on the bright side, I’m bringing a notebook or two so I can work on the last chapters of this and other stuff I’m working on).
::
The Poison
Chapter Twenty
Heinous silence turns my stomach
Can’t say a word, gets stuck inside
Come on, conviction I’m terrified of you
The playground looked a lot less cheerful than it did the last time I had seen it. Then again, it was probably the moonlight and the clouded night that did it- twisting and warping the wood, slanting the structure in odd ways. My own overactive imagination probably played a part as well.
Either way, I didn’t like the feeling it gave me, the extra shot of paranoia that I most certainly did not need. I felt as though my father could turn up at any given moment, spring out from nowhere and strangle me- and that would be the end. But no- even though my rushed, running footsteps echoed far too loudly through the streets and my gasping breaths sent smoke signal plumes up into the darkened sky, there was no one. No one to hurt, nor to help me.
It had been a long trip to Gerard’s house. Even though I walked fast- and ran where I could - the walk had probably eaten up two hours, at the very least. I had to hurry and find what I needed quickly if I wanted this visit to be worth anything.
Despite all my worries, I was able to keep at bay the cloud of panic that eclipsed my mind, and I quickly located the abandoned toolbox, teetering precariously atop the half-finished swing set. Rubbing my clammy hands on my jeans, I grabbed one of the thick wooden beams and- with much difficulty- heaved myself up onto the top of the structure. I clasped both of my hands around the toolbox and swung it onto the platform, immediately keeling over onto my hands and knees afterwards. For a moment, I stared at the beam gripped by my sweaty hands, and the dark wisps of grass below me.
Then I tried to stand.
It was slow going at first. I was shaky, legs trembling, breathing uneven. I wondered if this was how an Olympic gymnast felt while getting up from a particularly nasty fall. I imagined it was. The tense muscles and the clouded vision felt as though they went hand in hand with the panicked expressions I saw on the athletes’ faces. For the longest time, I thought it was silly to get so upset over a sport, but in those tense moments I understood. The had probably spent hours, days, months, years preparing for those scant minutes. Their entire future could have been riding on that one performance. Their dreams were seconds away from manifesting themselves as tangible, reachable things.
Without giving even a few seconds to think, I knew I couldn’t fall. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to pick myself back up and I could lose that delicate thread that still connected me to Gerard.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
I slowly brought one of my knees up and set one foot flat on the beam, hesitantly letting my arms extend as far as I dared.
One foot in front of the other. I said to myself.
Just four steps. Just four steps and I’m safe for the moment.
My right foot reaches out and, somehow, I don’t fall. My arms windmill and I check my balance, but I don’t fall. That gives me a rush of confidence and I lean into my next step. This one feels easier. I didn’t stumble, didn’t stare at the ground as I went. It felt like there was a little less worry riding on it.
Two quick little steps and I was next to the toolbox.
A very small victory for Atropine Alvarenga. I imagined a sports announcer saying, and I smirked. Obviously, my mind was still stuck on the Olympic contestant analogy.
I stood up, dusted off my knees, and began to work on the roof.
Shingle by shingle, the roof slowly transformed into a mostly finished product- helping the whole structure look much more like a playground. It also somewhat took the harsh, Gothic edge off the house. Made it look a little more cheerful. That was good.
I nailed down the last shingle, checked all the others for loose edges, then put the hammer and leftover nails down and admired my work. I didn’t know how long it took for me to finish the roof, but I estimated that it had taken me only about a half hour. I felt proud that I’d gotten the work done in such a short amount of time. It also left me time to possibly finish the swing set, or at least some of it. I excitedly grabbed the toolbox and was about to make my way down, when I stopped short, realizing something that should have been obvious.
There was no ladder.
When I had worked on the playground in months past, there were always at least three people working at once. When we moved to the ground from the roof, the toolbox was passed between two people, up and down. I hadn’t thought about it until that moment because it was such a small detail- an instinctive action that we all took. Up until you found that you couldn’t do it, it didn’t require any thought.
I looked down at the toolbox. The light from the streetlamps glanced smirkingly off its shiny red surface, mocking me. It knew that the only way to get it down was to drop it, risking disturbing the entire street, never mind waking Gerard. It also knew that no matter how hard I tried to be quiet, I would be destined to fail.
But I had to take the fall. Better the toolbox than me.
I leaned down over the edge of the wooden floor, toolbox in hand, and stretched my arms as far as they would go. Even so, there was still a good yard and a half between the box and the ground- plenty of room to flip and spill noisily onto the hard-packed dirt. I closed my eyes and let go.
True to my predictions, the toolbox landed heavily on the ground, various metal tools clattering out of the top without pause to consider the volume. It seemed deafening to my ears and I winced, clenching my eyes shut.
There was a short moment of silence after that, and I thought that maybe no one had heard. But then the front door opened a bit and I saw the top of Gerard’s head peer out. I bit my lip- hard- to keep from making any noise and slunk back into the shadows. If I didn’t have as much self control, I probably would have leapt out out of the playhouse and hugged him. But I knew it was too soon, and he would want to take me back, whatever the cost.
But another thing kept me from jumping out- what if, instead of loving me back, he pushed me away? What if the days apart had soured him to me, and he felt only hatred towards me?
I knew that if that was the case, I wouldn’t be able to handle that, and the weight of trying to protect my mother, and dealing with the harsh treatment at school. I would surely break in two. So my cowardice kept me glued to the darkness, watching helplessly as Gerard surveyed the scene with weary eyes, then grunted and closed the door.
So close, and yet so far. I found myself thinking, the crushing disappointment of letting yet another moment of happiness slip away from me pressing down hard.
I stepped down from the platform, grabbed the necessary tools off the grass, and began working on the swingset.
As I did so, memories that I probably should have safeguarded more carefully slipped through the veil of my drowsiness into the front of my mind- memories of Alicia’s failed classes, the songs we all sang while working, time spent late into the night just talking with Gerard... I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss it all dearly. It was still years before I could even come close to recapturing these memories, though, and I couldn’t distract myself with wishful thinking.
I tried to keep the thoughts at bay all throughout the night, running through random lyrics in my head so my mind would preoccupy itself somehow. Unfortunately, the only song that seemed to want to play itself was In Between Days, which honestly only made things worse.
Go on, go on, just walk away...
I dropped the hammer and clapped my hands over my ears (as if that would help silence something that came from inside my head). It was then that I realized that rosy streaks were beginning to appear on the horizon, signalling the dawn. Shit. That meant the bus was most likely already on its way to my house and even if I ran at the speed of a professional sprinter, I wouldn’t make it. Even worse, all of my school supplies were back at the house. I sighed, crossing my arms.
Should I just skip school today? I wondered to myself. I could still catch the bus that stopped off in the neighborhood- I would get a few strange looks, sure, possibly another thing for everyone to bully me for too, but ducking out of school completely was bound to make my grades suffer even more than just being there without any of my assignments.
With that in mind, I started walking over to where I knew the bus stop to be, stealing a quick glance to see if Gerard, Mikey, Alicia or anyone else was up. I half-hoped they would be, not only because I missed them, but because, with a bit of coercing on my part, they could drive me back to my house and then the school- thus eliminating my inevitable suffering later on.
But no such luck. I kept walking, picking up the pace a little. I didn’t know when this bus would arrive, but I was sure it would be sometime soon.
In the distance, I saw the lone sign with a minimalist yellow bus painted on it- there. I picked up speed, but soon a bench came into focus, with a person sitting on it. Talking- or being around people in general- was the last thing I wanted this morning. Almost immediately, I slowed my pace to a trot and stood by the person, hoping they were asleep. Going by the way their face was pointed skyward and the deep breathing that came up from their chest, that was most likely the case. A hood covered most of her face (at least I assumed it was a she), but a few strands of electric blue hair still escaped, standing out vividly against the black Sister Sin hoodie.
“Ramya?” I whispered, tapping her cheek lightly. Although I could only see about half of her face, I was certain it was her.
She awoke with a start, blurting gibberish before getting ahold of herself and looking at me in bewilderment.
“Oh, hello what the fuck are you doing here don’t you live over in the slums hi what?!” she exclaimed in one breath, voice rising with every word.
“I- I- I...” I stopped stuttering, realizing I didn’t have anything to say. “You don’t live here either though, don’t you?”
Ramya shook her head. “I don’t. There was just this roller derby thing I went to last night and I stayed a little late last night, so...” She waved her hand around vaguely at the bus stop, and her book bag, which she (unlike me) had had the foresight to bring along. “here I am. Did you go to the derby, too?”
I knew a believable excuse when I saw one. “Uh, yeah.” I latched onto the story awkwardly, picking up more details along the way. “Um, didn’t stay for the after party. They probably would’ve carded me anyway.”
“Mm.” she said, and I worried that she didn’t believe me. “Great bout, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” I said simply, hoping it was enough. I prayed that she didn’t ask anything more.
“Remember that amazing jump aNOMaly made in the second half?” she continued, much to my chagrin.
“Um. Yeah. It was really awesome.” I said uncertainly. What if she was messing with me? She must’ve realized something by now, even at this ungodly hour.
“Psyche!” she yelled suddenly. “Wrong player- she’s in the Detroit Derby Girls. So, with that being said,” Ramya sat back down on the bench. “What are you doing here really?”
There wasn’t enough time for me to make a story up, but I knew I couldn’t tell her the whole truth.
“I wanted to make sure... a friend... was okay. When I was staying with Gerard-” I stopped myself when I said his first name. “-Mr
. Way- I met his brother, Mikey, and Mikey’s girlfriend and I was friends with them, and I haven’t heard from them for awhile... so...” I shrugged. “I wanted to see if they were alright.”
“Oh, okay.” she said, seeming suddenly to let the whole thing go. “I thought that maybe... never mind.” she pulled her legs up and scooted over to one side of the bench, patting the now open spot next to her. “Well go on; sit. This bus comes later than all the others, so we’ve got a couple minutes to wait yet.”
I sat, twiddling my thumbs, wondering why she hadn’t yet noticed my express lack of school work. I hoped she would say something about it soon, have an idea of how to solve the problem but she didn’t say a word and I was left to my own devices.
Mulling over the predicament, I thought about Natasha. Although our classes were supposedly at different levels, the teachers actually just assigned all the same homework to everyone. Maybe I could somehow make a copy of her homework and turn that in. Okay. That sounded like it could work. It was far fetched, but just close enough to possible that it temporarily appeased the worried thoughts that flitted through my head.
The telltale sound of a choked grumble reached my ears, the yellowish, rusty schoolbus coming into view soon after. Ramya picked up her bag and started toward the curb, myself following suit. The bus slowed to a stop in front of us and with an unwelcoming hiss, the door flew open.
School buses were normally filled with chatter and laughter (and sometimes yelling) but as soon as Ramya and I stepped on, it became eerily silent. I shuffled awkwardly to the back, but Ramya crossed her arms firmly and glared until everyone looked away.
We sat down at the back of the bus, and it was then that Ramya realized my empty hands.
“A!” she said. “Where’s your schoolbag?”
“Left it at home.” I said nonchalantly, although I was actually quite upset about it. “It’s okay- really. I bet I can make a copy of Natasha’s homework and turn that in. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure about that?” Ramya asked, starting to dig through her own bag. “‘Cause I’ve got some homework passes in here I thi-”
“Ramya.” I cut in. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” I didn’t say it because I sincerely felt everything would work out. Interestingly enough, I had slowly gotten tired of people feeling sorry for me- maybe because I’d had enough pity to last two lifetimes already. I was almost fifteen- it was time I started doing things on my own.
Despite the constant noise that our classmates provided, silence permeated the air where we sat. I looked down at my hands and silently asked whoever was in charge for this ride to end quickly.
I felt something embed itself in my hair, but didn’t look up. Ramya picked it out for me, presumably to flick it back at the attacker. Someone yelled something at me. I still didn’t look up. I couldn’t understand what they had said. I didn’t want to. A rotten fishy smell wafted into my nostrils. I squeezed my temples and shut my eyes. It felt like a migraine was coming on.
I was experiencing a sensory overload and for the first (and last) time in my life I found myself missing my own bus. At least there, the kids knew how to be quiet sometimes.
The bus suddenly hurdled over the two speed bumps in the parking lot and haphazardly parked in one of the bus spaces, the driver coughing out a warning to anyone who took too long in getting off. I got up quickly, following after the students in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the scruffy bus driver flash me a creepy, broken-toothed smile and thought nothing of it, until I felt a hand come down hard on my rear, sending me jolting forward a few steps.
I all but sprinted down the steps and ran into the school, towards the parking lot. I heard a vague shouting that sounded like my name (presumably Ramya, wondering what had happened), but I ignored it and ran into one of the empty stalls and locked it. Only then did I let out a sob that was quickly muffled by my fist.
Why does this happen to me?
::
Soooooo... c: ... as of Friday, I am officially 14! W00T W00T PARTY AND SHIT- no actually, I just spent the day at art class, and then went to a Detroit vs. Lansing derby bout with my mom (which was funny, actually, because for the first half she was like ‘what even...’ and I was literally screaming my head off), and I got to see aNOMaly in person! (squee!)
For those who don’t know, she’s kind of my derby idol ^^’ Hence why she's included in the chapter.
Lyrics from Cynical At Best, by The Measure (SA)- great band by the way, too bad they only released two records...