Chapter 9: 08 | exes and distractions

Jo

"I MADE YOU a little something," Woody says as he hits the breaks of his truck. As usual, it doesn't stop completely so the buzz of the engine is audible underneath the sound of the Beatles that plays from his stereo.

"What?" I smile.

"Hang on," he shushes before standing from his seat and moving towards the kitchenette in the back. While he's rummaging through and there's a clash of forks, I close my eyes and absorb the Beatles as much as I can to get me through the day.

"Here it is."

I take the lunchbox from his hand and take off the lid and the best aroma hits me. "You made me the sandwiches."

He settles back in the driver's seats and puts his hands on his blonde head. "The sandwiches."

I hesitantly close the lid and resist the urge to take a bite right this instant. When Woody's dad was alive, he made us these peculiar sandwiches whenever my brother and I came over to play with Woody, his own recipe, as he was the second owner of this current food truck. It was the only reason why I hung out with Woody to be honest. Woody and Drew were a notorious pair when they were younger and I'd pick the sandwiches any day even if it meant spotting a few bruised elbows or knees from the sand.

I haven't had one since he died.

"When did you learn?" I ask him curiously. It's like an onslaught of childhood memories have attacked my brain.

"I picked up one or two things from dad when he made them. Or sometimes, he'd have me work in the kitchen with him. I just wasn't confident enough to do it alone but sales were low yesterday and I decided to give it a try," he explains and then turns to me with a sly smile.

"Figured you'd be the best to have the first taste of my death trap."

I hit him on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's good."

"Mhm."

I laugh. "I'm serious. I'll give you a review, trust me. You know I'm always honest."

Woody shrugs with a grin and then looks to the window. "You should get going," he says and turns to me. "Some kid's been looking here every few seconds."

I turn to the window and see Flynn aimlessly kicking a rock while staring at his shoes. His hands are in the pockets of the dark funny looking coat he's wearing above his usual black Tee and trousers and he looks up once more and meets my eyes with a curious expression before darting towards Woody.

I narrow my eyes at him and then I turn to Woody before patting his shoulder. "See you."

He waves as I open the door and turn towards school before driving off. I narrow my eyes at Flynn before walking past him, doing so as I ask, "What do you want?"

"I want to know if you're okay."

I stop in my tracks and turn to him with my brows in my hairline. "Come again?"

He leans on his heels and glances back at Woody's receding truck. "You get a ride to school every morning from a druggie. I'm not the only one who's curious." He gestures to some of the people who look at me and look away and I sling my back higher up my shoulder. I'm used to the stares.

"First of all, Woody's not a druggie. Just because his brother OD'd, doesn't mean he's a drug addict," I defend.

Flynn stares at my face with a bored look. "He sold coke while he was in highschool."

"He was trying to make ends meet."

"You'd sell coke to make ends meet?"

I glare at him. "What is your problem this morning?"

"You haven't answered the question."

"I'm not obligated to answer your question. You don't know anything about Woody so maybe you should stop listening to the stupid rumors and start buying from him. Because the stupid rumors have affected his business and you and I, both know that."

Flynn raises a brow at me. "What are you? Like his girlfriend?"

"No."

"Friends with benefits?"

I scoff.

"Concubine?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Great. Now, what do you want?"

He clears his throat and looks at the sky before saying, "It's a fine morning. Don't you think?"

"I'm not going to Cass's party."

He doesn't give up. "Oh, come on. I can easily get you an invite. One party won't shatter your hermitism."

I fold my arms together and look around. "You want me there so you can impress a girl. You couldn't care less if I had fun or not."

He scratches the back of his neck with an annoyed look on his face. "You don't know that."

"I do know that and I'm saying n—" I'm cut off when my phone rings and I narrow my eyes at the unknown number but for some reason, I know it's obviously not Flynn because I've somehow memorized his number.

I take a step back from him and pick the call. "Hello?"

"Josephine? Hello, it's me. Hana's mum."

My eyes widen unintentionally and I ignore Flynn's curious look and whirl around before moving a few meters away from him. Her voice hasn't changed at all since the last time I heard it but I'm pleasantly surprised and curious as to why she's called me directly.

"Mrs Baker, hi—I—" I scratch my forehead a bit, "—it's so nice to hear from you again. I always send my regards through Hana."

"She does tell me sometimes," she chuckles and then her tone drops. "But as you know she's busy with school and all."

I clear my throat and ignore the students who walk past me. "Yes, she tells me. I—it's been a while."

"Sure has. Got your number from your friend a while back. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know about it. How's your mum? Brother? Lakeville? I'm sure you're all fine. We are too."

I can't help the frown that forms on my face. She's never this rushed when speaking and her tone's never this hard. "Did something happen to Hana? Is she alright?"

"She is but she won't be if she keeps getting distracted."

"I don't understand what you mean."

She sighs. "Listen, I've always loved you, like my own daughter. I still do Josephine. But we aren't in Lakeville anymore. Somethings have got to change."

I don't trust my voice so I don't respond. I just listen to hers and listen to the cracks in my heart.

"Hana's busy. She's an honor's student and you know that. I can't have you calling her all the time. She's already loosing her focus. Last night, she called to tell me she didn't do as well as she thought she would in a pop quiz and she cried. You know how she gets when she isn't the best at school."

My eyes are burning because I know where this is headed. Hana's parents have always been extra strict and controlling when it comes to her studies. The only reason they allowed us to hang out was because we shared a common illness. They didn't think I was smart enough to be friends with her but they never said that out loud. I saw it in their lukewarm smiles and half-hearted praises whenever results were out. Of course, Hana's always been oblivious to these things but I wasn't.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know how much damage I'd done."

"It's not just you sweetie but I just wanted you to know that she's studying for a scholarship, interschool exams and many others. Just cut back on the calling, honey, okay? She needs time. I don't need you to pull her back."

I'm a distraction. I get it.

"I totally understand. I'm sorry Mrs Baker."

There's that half-hearted laughter again. "It's all good honey. I'm glad you understand. She doesn't need to know about our conversation okay?"

"Okay," I mumble not sure if she can hear me or not.

"Alright dear, some other time. Have a good night." The line goes dead.

For a few seconds, I'm immobile. I just stare at the black screen of my phone until my ears start to ring. I look up to the sky and blink before pressing my fingers against my tear ducts.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Not in front of Flynn.

"Pryce?"

The warning bell resonates from inside the hallway and that's my sign to turn around. I meet his eyes with an expressionless look.

"You know what?" I spit. "Fine. Whatever. Just leave me alone, okay?" I hate the way my voice shakes when I speak so I don't grant him an opportunity to respond. I turn on my heels and storm towards the hallway with the thought that I may or may not have lost another friend.

∞

FOR THE FOURTH time today, I'm sitting on the closed toilet seat during school hours. The first time was to cry, the second to check my blood sugar, the third to cry some more and the fourth to do both. But I'm trying not to cry so I lean back on the toilet and listen to the sound of a flushing toilet in the next stall before picking up their footsteps and watching their boots walk past from the space between the door and the ground.

"You're okay," I tell myself as I empty my purse unto my thighs and take out my glucose meter.

"You're fine," I say even though my finger shakes when I try to prick myself. I take a deep breath and try to relax before pricking myself and testing the glob of blood. I think of calling Drew while drawing out six units of insulin from the glass vial upside down and flicking the syringe.

I think of my dad when I pinch a skin of fat from my stomach and wince when the needle disappears inside. I must have hit a tender spot. Someone knocks hard on the door and I shout a harsh, "Go away!" before closing my eyes again.

"Sheesh," the girl mutters and moves to knock at another stall.

I dump everything into my purse once I'm done and look at myself in my pocket mirror. I don't look like the Josephine who left the house earlier this morning. I look like a woman who's mourning her husband. Hana's mum warned me against communicating with Hana as frequently as before but it's not that hard to see that she's trying to cut me off as nicely as possible. Too bad I easily got the hint.

It's not the first time I've lost friends. Infact, most of the time I don't allow myself to make friends anymore. I will never see myself as normal around them. I will never think they relate to some of my struggles. I will only imagine the looks on their faces when I stay away from some certain foods or when I easily go to the bathroom for a test or even when I decide to prick my finger in front of them.

Once a friend told me she was uncomfortable around me because she didn't like seeing blood all the time. I guess I shouldn't blame her for that but a part of me thought she just didn't want to tell me I was too weird for her. I didn't like sleepovers or shopping at the mall. I'd rather talk about space or suggest we go to a thrift shop to get an astronaut's costume for Halloween. We didn't like the same things. We didn't like the same type of boys. I wanted to make it work somehow but one morning she just stopped talking to me.

I went to her locker with cupcakes from my mum as usual, a smile on my face, a 'hey Lillie. You didn't return my calls yesterday so I just wanted to know if your were okay.' from my mouth and received an eye roll, a 'you're so boring, Jo. I don't think you know that.' from her own mouth and her locker being shut in my face. She didn't say anything else and walked off with a group of friends around her and left me standing there.

Funny thing is, I didn't even cry. Not that I remember. I just blinked and turned around before going to the gym. Drew was practicing with his teammates as their coach wasn't present. He saw me, left his teammates and ran towards me.

I said the usual whenever I lost a friend. "Are you hungry? Mum made cakes." Even though he knew that, he'd say, "None of them are worth your time." And then I'd say, "I don't know what you're talking about," and he'd sling his arm over my shoulder and steer me towards the bleachers. We'd eat the cakes there and he'd say something to cheer me up and ruffle my hair. And if his teammates felt like it, they'd come over and steal some as well.

There's no-one to share cakes with again if I loose a friend and there's no-one to tell me that none of them are worth my time. There's only me. So as I step out of the bathroom stall and splash some water on my face, I look into the mirror and tell myself, "None of them are worth your time."

I step out of the bathroom feeling worse than before. Like someone just forced my head down the toilet. It's lunchtime already so I place my earbuds into my ears and gravitate towards the lunchroom. It's noisy as usual and the smell of food permeates into the air.

When I get to the counter, my favorite cook, Martha, smiles at me and drops a tray of food in front of me. "Just for you," she tells me like she always says when it's lunchtime because it's always diabetic friendly.

I smile back and grab it and then she asks me if I'm okay with a concerned look on her face. I shrug and tell her none of them are worth my time even though my voice shakes and then I turn around and silently take a seat at an empty table.

Most students sit in cliques in the lunchroom. The footballers have their own table just to themselves. No-one else sits there. They're obnoxiously loud with little to no self-control of their highly disgusting jokes. Presently, as childish as it seems, Carter Reed (Lakeville's quarterback) is chucking fries at a teammates face. Then the rest of them drum their fists on the table and all of a sudden, one of them stands up and forces his pants down until it reaches his knees and his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs are on display.

Everyone's used to their antics already so it's no surprise some don't even turn once he does so. He hollows his hands around his mouth and screams, "HENCEFORTH, MY DICK IS DECLARED FREE FOR ALL!"

The boys around him burst into laughter as well as most of the lunchroom. Flynn is the oddity amongst them. He's leaning back on his chair, eyes unfocused as he spins a pen around his fingers. I've never wondered why he sits with them considering the fact that he's Carter's best friend and the rest of the team welcome him as their own but today when my eyes dart towards the table where the swim team are seated, I wonder why he's not with them. I mean he used to be on the swim team but I never really knew why he left. And going back to what happened at the bookstore, it didn't seem like something either of them wanted to talk about when Otis mentioned it.

Carter nudges Flynn probably to ask if he's okay but he shrugs and lifts his eyes from the table. As if sensing that I'm staring at them, he looks away from the table and his eyes meet mine immediately. I look away like I've been caught stealing candy from a child and stare at my plate before taking a bite of my pasta and turning to the next page of the novel I'm reading.

I feel a presence walking towards me and their shadow looms over my table before dropping their food and noisily taking a seat.

"What do you want, Flynn?" I ask without looking up at him and reading even though the words don't register.

"It's been what? Two months? Four?"

I look up immediately and my breath catches in my throat when I see who's seated in front of me. Craig Johnston. An idiot I used to date. Or thought I used to date. He's grinning crookedly at me and running a hand along his scruffy chin.

"What do you want?" I spit, my eyes venomous as he smirks at me.

"Whoa, baby," he laughs like I've cracked a joke. "You weren't as feisty as this when you used to follow me around."

His dark hair is longer than I remember and he's wearing a familiar jacket. A jacket that everyone on the swim team owns. His words cut through me like a knife and the only thing I desire is to wrap my hands around his throat.

"Call me baby again and you'll regret it," I warn. "Plus I never followed you around."

"Oh, but you did." He tells me as he leans back on his chair. "I don't see anyone around. No boyfriend. Huh, I'm guessing you haven't moved on yet."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Craig isn't the one I need to get over. It's what he did to me. How he did it. I thought I had successfully avoided him since he did what he did but clearly I wasn't successful enough. Or maybe he'd just noticed and decided to break the spell. Because that's exactly who Craig is. An egoistic jerk who thinks no-one is better than him.

"I don't need a boyfriend to move on from you."

"Yeah," he grins and places his arms on the table. "Not like you'd be able to get one but hey, whatever helps you sleep at night."

My blood boils. "Are you done?"

"No, actually," he says and runs a hand through his hair. "You've been hanging around Flynn a lot."

Great. I don't know how Flynn has managed to be a part of this conversation but with the way he spoke with his lips downturned and his eyes narrowed, I'm guessing it's more than just him being a jerk as usual.

I abandon my food and take a good look at his jacket again before looking at him. "You're Flynn's replacement."

If there's anything that gets to this piece of shit in front of me, it's bruising his ego. And with the way he's presently shooting daggers at me, I know I've succeeded in doing that.

"I'm not anyone's replacement, get that? He was only captain because Coach is partial. And you saw what happened, he was kicked out. He's not better than me."

Ah, I see what's going on.

I lean forward on the table. "And yet, you're wearing his jacket. Coach—your own dad—didn't even bother to give you a new one. Probably because you know, like I said earlier, you're a replacement. A subpar one at that."

If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under by now. "You bitch." He spits.

I don't stop. "And now, you're here because you think I've been hanging around him and some sick, twisted part of you thinks I'd be willing to divulge his techniques to you. You're a jealous, egoistic man baby. That's what you are."

His face reddens with anger and his hands ball into incredibly tight fists. He looks me up and down and scoffs. Something about that action makes me mad.

"You're forgetting something, Jo and that's the fact that you're not all that. You don't get to sit there and say shit about me even when you begged me to fuck you."

"You're a liar," I hate the way my voice shakes.

"Yeah, call me whatever you want," he smiles slowly, clearly aware of the fact that he's getting to me. "Doesn't change anything. You're pissed at me because you—unsurprisingly—can't move on from me and the fact that you weren't even a good fuck."

"Get out." I demand, my eyes burning at the corners. He doesn't respond so I close my book and sling my bag over one shoulder before getting to my feet. I don't get to walk away because his grip finds my wrist and he forces me back down on the chair with a laugh.

"Fuck off." My voice breaks as I try to wrench my hand free from his ridiculously tight grip.

Amongst the chaos and internal panic that claws at my throat, the chair next to me is drawn back and from nowhere, I see Flynn taking a seat. Craig's grip loosens on my wrist and I force my hand away and rub at the red patch that has circled my wrist. Flynn doesn't look at me but instead, he grabs my plate and takes a bite out of my food before turning to Craig with a silent calm I can't decipher.

"Problem?"

Craig eyes him cockily. "I don't see how this is any of your business."

Flynn ignores him and then turns to me. His eyes dart towards my wrist and back up to my face. "You okay, Pryce?"

"No," I frown, suddenly feeling hot for no reason at all. "You're eating my food."

He grins wolfishly and then shushes me with his fingers before glancing at Craig again. "You," he points my fork at him like he's a piece of trash and juts his chin away from the table. "Get out."

Craig scoffs. "Know your place, Cauley. You don't get to boss me around anymore."

"You don't want me to cause a scene," Flynn shoots him an evil look. "Get out. Now."

Craig reddens from embarrassment and stands up, making sure to abruptly hit the table with his knee as he does so. He glares at me. "We're not done," and then he walks away.

I turn to the food thief with a poker face. "I was doing just fine on my own, thanks."

"Sure you were," he says and then snatches my book from my hand and turns it to me. He points at the title as he speaks, "I'm also your knight in shining armor."