My twin and I, though differentiated by society and with a conscious will to steer clear of each other's lives, wore similar cloaksâmetaphorically speakingâto hide our shame, escape our problems, and, most times, to avoid all troubles of our reality.
But there were certain people in our lives that this cloak could not shield us from.
Take mom for example.
She sees through our every facade yet only ever tears the cloak off when we take things too far, go too deep into our heads, envelope ourselves in the darkness our cloaks allowed. Like the first time I had tried to off myself or when Cash had sworn off eating for almost four days in a row. Extreme matters that force her to strip us of our privacy, to intervene, to lock in on mom mode. Mom pulls off our cloaks to keep us safe.
"What? You gonna avoid me again like you did today? Pretend I'm not here and call it a night?"
Then there's Donovan.
Bittersweet, underappreciated Donovan. My best friend. The only person I had known I could use as a safety cushion whenever things got tough. My punching bag, my own personal, opinionated diary.
He snapped my journal shut, waving it at me.
"Can you be honest for once in your life and tell me what that list is about?"
"I am honest with you."I mumbled, distracted by the bruises and cuts on his hand. "What happened there?"
"Don't dodge the question. If you're so honest, why didn't you tell me they were giving you a hard time?"
"Because it doesn't matter."
"And Mel?"
I admit that the worry in his honeyed-earths had almost cracked my demeanor, leaving me feeling vulnerable enough to want to open up to him, to let him in on all the cruelty I've endured. That is until he mentioned her.
He took my silence as the answer he wanted to his question. He wanted me to be the bad guy because he cared that much for her. Wanted me to take on the role of bad friend so it'd fit his story and make him secure in his feelings.
"Don't touch my stuff, Donovan." I mumbled and plucked my journal out of his hands with no fight from his end. I tucked my secrets back on my bookshelf and leaned against the wall, arms crossed as I anticipated his next words.
I was met with silence and a whole lot of eye judging and with that, my old nemesis, panick, set in.
"Did you read it?"
Gosh, I hate how fragile that came out. I need to pull myself together before I end up saying something I'd regret.
"You still haven't answered my question about Mel."
"Because it's insulting." I responded, balling my hands into a fist to keep from chewing on my nails. "Did you read my journal?"
He scoffed.
"What do you think?"
He's judging me again.
As if he suspects I'm Melissa's bully and not the other way around. He probably wants to wrap up whatever our friendship had meant to him, throw it in my face, and skip on his merry way to the girl he adored so much.
"Mel said you acted like she didn't exist after I left. Said you ignored her."
"I don't want to talk about this."I tried for a softer, less defensive tactic. "Can we just drop it?"
"I'm just trying to understand why you did that to her. You know Mel doesn't take rejection well. Beats herself up about it every chance she gets-"
"If you're only here to talk about your girlfriend, you should probably leave. I just want to eat, go over my lines and pray that that list is down by tomorrow. " I exhaled tiredly, moving to my bed and pulling my blanket on over my head.
He kept talking.
I used my pillow to block out his obsession with my bully.
"You're doing it again."
"If you have something to say, just say it." My heart raced wildly in my chest."Don't use your girlfriend as an excuse."
"She's not my girlfriend."
His denial, though filled with anger, moved me as much as winds moved mountains. He'll leave eventually and the fresh memory of the feel of Hero's soft hands will distract the pain in my chest from growing further.
"You're proving her point, you know?" He grumbled from some part of my room. He was doing a lot of pacing. It's hard to keep up with his position. I imagined him pouting at the door then pole dancing aggressively, the image almost jeopardizing my right to remain silent with a bubbling chuckle.
I slapped my cheeks repeatedly.
I need to be angry right now. He's accusing me of being like his girlfriend. I can't let him think that's okay. I already let a lot of people step all over me. I can't-no, I won't let Donovan do the same.
Especially because he's no longer my adorable, chubby, raven-haired best friend who used to put up with my endless tantrums all the time. He's the people's choice now. Mister Popular. Everyone's obsession. The bleach-blonde hotshot every teen wants a piece of.
And he just keeps on giving.
This Donovan wasn't one to wait. I could feel his impatience grow as the silence panned out for minutes on end. He was getting fed up with my cloak but, unlike mom, he wouldn't be yanking it off to get through to me so I did us both a favor and addressed what we both knew to be true.
"Melissa only tolerated me to get close to you and you know it." I muttered. "Go to your stupid Mel if she makes you so happy, Donovan. I have way too much on my plate to be worrying about Melissa right now."
"What?"
"I said you can leave." I blinked tiredly. "That's what you want, right? Besides, I don't want you here anymore."
Something was squeezing at my heart, I was getting all choked up again and the voices in my head were all taking Donovan's side. He seriously needs to leave me alone.
"That's not funny."
"Well, that's because I'm not joking." Please tell me he didn't hear my treacherous voice crack again. It always fails me at the worst time. "Bucket. Hole. Ring a bell? Leave, Donovan."
"Tell me it to my face first." His attempt to pull the blanket off me was met with a lot of resistance and we ended up in a tug-of-war, blanket edition. Donovan's groan of defeat was almost laughable. Almost. "Fine, I'll leave if that's what you want, you stubborn potato."
"Name-calling. Real original." I muttered as I sat up and pulled the covers off as he wished, my index immediately jutting at the door. "And, yes, that's exactly what I want. Your services are no longer requiredâ"
"Pushing me away won't solve anything."
"I made it this far without you, didn't I?"
Barely, but he doesn't need to know that.
My next words got stuck in my throat, silenced by someone fumbling the knob as if manually getting a machine pump to work. Donovan and I went quiet at the sound until mom popped her head in, looking abashed and out of place. Her eyes drifted from me to Donovan and back again, a nonverbal question filled with concern.
"Harley's being difficult." He wasted no time ratting me out as she slipped in and shut the door behind her. "She's doing it again."
"Potato," Mom came over to me and cupped my cheek, forcing me to make eye contact. My eyes were sweating. This isn't fair. They're cornering me and it's wrong and they know it's wrong and that I don't do well under pressure.
"Donovan went on a date with the girl I apparently bullied."
"Hey, that's not what I said and it wasn't really a date."
"It's what you implied." I muttered and resigned to the darkness provided by my quilt, ignoring the second part to avoid stepping out of character and peeking out at the two traitors before me. "Just go away."
"See?" He spoke to mom, gesturing at all of me as if I was some dysfunctional item that she needed to fix. "Difficult."
"You're difficult." I argued, aware of mom's inner battle to keep from laughing at us. She was not helping here.
Just then, the no good, goody two shoes dumpster got a notification. Two, actually. He took out his phone, read whatever was on the screen, then slowly tore his focus away. I know that look all too well.
He's about to abandon me again.
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I yanked my chair out and gruffly plopped down, jerking it repeatedly toward the dinner table. Mom suddenly had the desire to admire the inner dealings of the fridge and Cash was doing a poor job of hiding his surprise at the storm clouds raging above my head and the steam coming out of my ears since I almost always kept to myself in these dark times.
I scratched my fork against my plate, taking pleasure in the discomfort it brought both of them.
On the outside, I was as cool as lava, hot and a bother to all who came too close. But on the inside, logic and planning reigned supreme. The voices in my head had yanked down the bulky scroll of reasons why I should have never put in the effort to salvage whatever had been left of our friendship.
He actually picked her
I banged my head on the table, grinding my teeth in annoyance.
Just when mom reached tentatively for the jug of orange juice to keep it from spilling due to my nonstop head-hammering, I had the epiphany of all epiphanies.
I have to let Donovan go.
I should have never allowed him back into my life in the first place. Being my friend is a privilege he's not allowed to have with the way he's been acting ever since he got back. I mean, my Donovan was a sweetheart by nature. This one's a...well, he's a jerk through and through. I don't need him and I don't need his stupid bleach-blonde bed hair distracting me every five seconds.
So why did I almost break my back the next morning rushing to my bedroom window upon hearing his expensive car roll into our driveway?
Plopping onto the cushion, I slid the window up, threw the script that had kept me distracted all night somewhere on the cushion and snatched a random book off the shelf to appear inconspicuous to the boy below.
His stupid bed hair was sticking every which way as per the usual. I almost chucked a comb out the window so that he'd fix it. Then I noticed he was sporting my favorite color today and I forgot all about being inconspicuous, my eyes narrowing in suspicion at his weird behavior.
He should wear black more often.
"I know you're watching me." He caught my movement almost immediately, squinting up at me. My cheeks flamed.
"No, I'm not!" I whisper-shouted, waving the book in my hand out into the open air. I nearly fell out the window in my show of denial. "I'm reading, you idiot!"
"Nursery book."
"Ugh, you're such a...a jerkface. Go away!" I slammed the window shut and crossed my arms with a huff, practically foaming at the mouth.
He had no right!
A moment passed as I tried to collect my last bit of sanity so I wouldn't slip up and ruin the pretty little image he had painted about his picture-perfect Melissa. Thinking about her made my blood boil over.
"You're being childish and I'm coming in now."
I marched back to the window.
"No. Leave. You're a jerk. And I'm mad at you." With every pause, I glared extra menacingly at him. I held up a pillow threateningly. "Or else!"
"You wouldn'tâpff." My blood ran cold despite my victory. I figured out why a second later."You are so dead, Harley. So freaking dead!"
I screamed and flew to the pole, swishing down the hall and made a beeline for the kitchen, all the while yelling for mom. He intercepted my escape at the stairs, his Cheshire grin and crazy eyes pointed at me.
"We can do this the hard way or the hard way."
"At least give me options." I cried, scrambling back up the stairs as I screamed bloody murder. I flew past Cash, nearly crashing into him as he came out of his room in confusion.
"What are you two idiots doing?"
"He's trying to kill me!" I shouted over my shoulder as I reached my bedroom. I grabbed the door handle and flew in, tasting freedom until Donovan snatched it away in one swift push. He grabbed me before I could escape through the pole again and swung me over his shoulder like a dish rag.
"I'll give you one chance." I couldn't shake out of his grip. "Apologize."
"Never." I hit his back, unable to control my laughter. "Put me down or I'll bite you. I'll bite you so hard your entire generation will have the mark."
Donovan snorted.
"As you wish, Potato." And he flung me on the bed, cackling as I bounced once then, because I'm me, rolled off the bed and fell on my back.
"You throw like a little boy."I gasped out as I climbed back up, my lungs aching from laughing so much.
"Make room." He pushed me away then laid beside me. We piled two pillows between us then focused our gazes to the ceiling. "You're not even ready yet. Always sleeping. Always wasting precious school time."
"You already graduated." I turned my head to him, narrowing my sleep-filled eyes. "What do you care about school? You're a college boy."
"Yes, I am, actually."He stated, scrunching his nose teasingly at my deer in headlights look. Why does he just randomly drop bombs on me then go quiet? I pinched him."Ow, okay, okay. My acceptance letter came in yesterday and I wanted to tell you but you were all like..." He got up from the bed and mimicked my depressed stance, holding his hands out like the undead. "I'm mad at you but I won't tell you why because I'm difficult."
I was too shocked to respond. Donovan got accepted to his dream college?
"Earth to Harley." He waved a hand dramatically in front of my face. "Say something. Smile. Frown. Emotions are a thing, y'know, and I'm sure with time and practice, you can somewhat pull off a nice smiley faâ"
I hugged him.
"So gross." He icked but melted into my hug. "Women."
"Shut up or I'll hit you with something harder than a pillow."
"Shutting up." He chuckled. "Does this mean we're good?"
"You look good in black." I commented with a satisfied nod and squeezed him tighter.
"I'm repping a really stubborn potato."
"Ha ha." I deapanned, hiding my proud smile right after. "You're almost there, Donovan. You're doing amazing."
"I am, aren't I?" He said. I could feel him smiling over my hedge of curls. "Smart, athletic, ladies man, a Potato's adviser..."
"I did not appoint you."
"Because I didn't ask." He nearly crushed my bones. I can't believe I got so comfortable that I forgot who I was dealing with. "Now apologize. Or else..."
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I get it now.
It's her eyes. Those beautiful, enchanting doe eyes that never pull away once they're locked on a target. Or could it be her wavy, brunette locks that sway with every slight twitch of her perfect posture? Whatever it was, it had Donovan abandoning me at the bottom of the staircase and saving her from collapsing to the floor.
My heart skipped, anticipation rolling in my gut when she slipped out of his hold. But Donovan was fast. He caught her before my laughter could bubble up, killing my mood in the process.
"So close..." I muttered bitterly. Beside me, Syllas snorted to which I elbowed him in the ribs. "Not funny."
"You're so lucky Donovan likes you." He grumbled, rubbing where I had hit, his glower not as intimidating as it used to be. "But yeah, I get your point. She's obviously faking."
I nodded, considering kicking her inhaler down the staircase and the only reason I didn't go through with it was because Donovan's hand had come down on it at the same time I had had the brilliant idea.
She'll get what's coming another day. When I'm less of a coward.
"Hey, hey," Donovan lifted her chin up, staring worriedly into her eyes and I cringed. "You're fine. Everything's going to be okay, Mel."
Leaning against the wall, a few steps behind him, I crossed my arms defensively, mumbling his exact words mockingly. Syllas snorted again.
"Oh look, he's human." I teased.
"Shut up."
"I don't know what I would do without you." Melissa's sickeningly sweet voice could have killed anyone's appetite.
"How did you do it all these years?" I rolled my eyes,my sarcasm as high as a wind-snatched kite. I grumpily stomped away from their sight before either of them could react to my jab and ran face-first into my friendly, neighborhood insomniac.
"Slow down." He barely managed to step out of harm's way. Harm was me. I was fuming. "What's got you all mad?"
"Melissa." I breathed, nodding once in irritation. And I'm hungry.
"Why does Maranda bother you so much?"
"Sheâshe doesn't." I stammered, embarrassed beyond words. "Not really. It's Donovan and his stupid need to be around her all the time."
"Could be both." He wagered, tilting his head in thought. "Wanna skip?"
"Skip?" My brows could have touched after that. "Skip what?"
"School." He grinned, nudging my side. "We can go to my place, read, play video games, figure out a way to get you off everyone's bad book. Sounds nice, doesn't it?"
"It does." I could already see our black house, childless backyard and all my crafts decorating our interior and his art lining the walls. Plus, it's lunchtime, so nobody would notice my absence anyway.
Then Justin marched into my field of vision, stomping right over dream Hero, who was waiting for me with open arms, his commercial worthy hair flowing effortlessly and his blinding smile as breathtaking as the ocean view.
"I gave you a day. It's serious time now." And he pulled me away from my prince charming, crashing my dreams in one utterance. I spared an apologetic glance back at Hero.
He made a rotating motion with his fingers followed by a tiny wave. We'd continue our conversation later.
I turned to Justin, wondering if he noticed the shock he was causing the whole school by walking with me right now. He didn't blink in anyone's direction. No one dared to comment on it.
The librarian was a dark-skinned man of average height and sound mindâhe always hides me away from Three Unpopular Opinions and lies to their faces about my whereabouts. He had a well-kept beard that shaped his oval face perfectly, and one gigantic ab that I'd catch him scratching while in deep thought.
"Hey, Mr. Winkle." I chirped, waving at the old man behind the desk despite the short distance.
"You damaged another book, didn't you?" Mr. Winkle teased and, because of the questioning look Justin sent me, I transformed into a stuttering tomato.
"Well, did you?" Justin decided to join in on the fun.
"IâI did not! Mr Winkle..."I huffed, jutting a hand out. "You said my doodles made them better!"
To that, he pointed at the sign next to us which listed all the "Don't"s of the library and my eyes lingered where my name had been crossed out a few years back after I had begged and promised to abide by all the don'ts.
I rolled my eyes back on the old man, lowering my voice.
"You always get me."
"You make it too easy." The old man laughed, coming around to lead us to the seating area that was made in a separate room from the books. In there, we could study our lines without any distraction from my end.
"Thank you, Mr. Winkle." Justin and I echoed as the old man waved and closed the door behind him.
Justin had already pulled out the script along with a worn-out notebook that he explained was a cheat to memorizing lines and getting a deeper connection to the characters.
I nodded right along as if I understood every confusing thing he kept drilling on about. Checking that Justin was still immersed in the storyâhis eyes were dancing along the page, taking in line after line and reminding me of just how undeserving it would be to perform with someone so well-rounded when it came to their passionâI chanced a peek at the father clock behind him and my face sunk.
We were nowhere near done.
My stomach grumbled.
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Mr. Melark was leaning against his desk, his disappointed teacher stance already perfected at such a young age, when I rushed to class.
The three Unpopular Opinions had struck again, gluing my locker shut so I wouldn't be able to get my textbook. They had underestimated my Smith strength but they did cause me a little delay to get to class.
Not enough to be three minutes late. I did that on my own.You see, my locker had suffered some serious damage but to my utmost surprise, the darn thing could still close. And, for some reason, I had ended up geeking out about that, all thoughts of English class gone from my mind.
I used the boy standing at the front of the class as a brace, pulling myself up while trying to catch my breath.
"Sorry about that." I managed to say just as I looked up at the person.
Richard
My hand flew off his shoulder faster than lightning and I tried to hide my shock at the nasty bruise around his eye and his busted lip.
"Wow," I couldn't swallow the words fast enough. "You look terrible. Awful. In need of medical attention. What happened there?"
"He ran into a pole." Donovan answered as he took his place at the front of the class, center of the nerds. Mr Melark nodded in agreement. "You should watch where you're walking next time, Rich."
"Poles are pretty dangerous." Hero mumbled drowsily from the back of the class. His face lit up when we made eye contact and he beckoned me over to the only other free seat. The one before his.
Riley's seat.
Am I her replacement?
I shook the sad thought away. Hero's not like that. He wouldn't do that to me.
"Try not to be late next time."Mr. Melark scolded, pulling me out of my dark thoughts.
"Yes, sir." I saluted him then whispered before taking a seat, "Sorry about your eye. And mouth. And...cheek."
Richard only offered a glare, which surprised me even more. Usually he'd be all over me like peanut butter on bread, trying to make me regret showing any kind of compassion towards him.
I took my place and clasped my hands on the desk, adamant on paying attention in this class throughout the year. If not for any other reason, Mr Melark's presence was enough to have me withdrawing from my precious sleep time.
Richard nearly made that impossible. He drawled on and on about his past sins and regrets. I found myself nodding off when he started his confession on all the ways he'd ever wronged me.
Not that the class knew that. Richard was mean to a lot of people so it was hard for them to pinpoint just who he was going on about.
Until he turned to me, that is. Every head followed in unison and I was left wishing Donovan hadn't rushed me this morning so that I wouldn't have forgotten to grab one of my hoodies from the closet. I've never wanted to disappear from a place more than in this moment.
I threw a quick glare at my best friend who was pretending to be so in love with his notebook. I was tweaking so hard at his clear avoidance that I almost missed Richard's presence above me.
"I'm sorry for what I put you through." His words came out soft but in his eyes, a fiery hatred burned for me. "I guess I was just bored and you made it too easy not to want to."
A heavy feeling settled over me but it didn't last as long as I thought it would. Richard took his seat, drawing curious eyes towards his bruises and away from me.
"You look tired." Hero whispered from behind me. "Sleep. I'll copy."
"Can't." I mumbled, fighting the sleep from my eyes. "Mr. Melark would feel bad."
"So, what?" He placed his feet on my heels and nudged lightly. "Fine. Wanna play footsies so you don't fall asleep?"
I blushed, feeling more awake now.
"We could both try to learn something for once."
"Is it because I'm not popular for my brains? Is that it?" His joke had us both trying to snuff out our chuckles. He nudged me again. "I'll let it go if you hold my hand."
An exaggerated cough pulled my attention to the strange looks we were getting from everyone around. Riley's minions were shooting me nasty looks from every direction.
"I think I'll pass." I mumbled, drawing into my shell. I didn't talk to Hero for the rest of English.
I looked to the front of the class. Mr Melark had pushed off the desk and was now going through some notes. He caught me staringâof course he caught me staringâ and gave a slight nod that I didn't understand.
The bell rang.
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