SEVEN

♥ Lucille ♥

My phone rings out, proceeding to my dad's voicemail. Dammit.

I call again. And wait. But yet again, he doesn't pick up. I put my phone in my pant pocket. I'll wait a minute before trying to call again. Or I'll wait for him to call back. I'm leaning against the wall right beside the door. The hall is cool and dimly lit. But dimly lit in the way it's dizzying. The walls are yellow and the lighting warm. It hurts my brain.

I close my eyes. God, this is so embarrassing. Kiara was being so weird. Well, she was being nice, but that's the weird part. I honestly wish she had said something rude or snarky just so it would feel normal. Most of all, though, I wish she hadn't seen me like that. And I wish I didn't feel like this at all.

Plus, she's going to want an explanation eventually. I don't want to give her that though. Even the reason is stupid and embarrassing.

My phone rings, I pull it out and it's my dad finally getting back to me. I take a breath and then hold the phone to my ear.

"Cille? Is everything okay?" I can hear the worry in his voice over the phone.

I clear my throat. "Hey, Dad. Um, no I am not doing that great right now..."

"What happened? Do you need to come home? I can probably get there quickly since it's late enough. Are you safe?" This is precisely how I imagined he would react. It's how he always does.

"I'm just outside my dorm right now. I..." I trail off for a moment. "Just a shitty day. Had a panic attack earlier. Almost had another one now ha..." I explain.

"Did something happen?" He asks. I can hear the drum of his fingers tapping against the phone. He does that all the time too, never realizing how annoying it is to hear directly in your ear.

"Just glossophobia being a bitch." I admit. It's embarrassing that all of this is caused by a stupid, meaningless fear. "I have to do a presentation tomorrow for one of my classes... It's a group thing and I've already finished my part of the slides, but I guess I'm freaking out over the actual presenting part..." I laugh weakly. Dad, however, does not laugh. I know I'm overreacting, but that's what I like about being able to talk to my dad. He makes me feel like my problems are as bad as they seem, but he helps make it better.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. That sucks. I'm assuming you can't opt out of the presenting part?"

"Nope. I've just got to suck it up." I sigh.

My dad doesn't speak for a moment. "I'm guessing your professor won't be convinced otherwise by money..?" He says it like an assumption, but I know it's really a suggestion.

"No, Dad." I laugh softly. "Pretty sure I'd get kicked out if I tried."

"That's too bad... How about tomorrow morning you chug some coffee. That's how I'd go about it."

"I think that would make it worse..." I admit.

"Jeez. So much like your mother. An espresso won't solve all your problems, she says, and yet whenever I have a problem, it does indeed make everything better." He argues.

"I think that's just delusion."

"Even if that's true, I do not care. If delusion is the key to happiness, then delusional I will be." He says confidently, making me laugh again. I know he's just spouting all this for the sake of brightening my mood, but it's certainly working.

There's a silence that falls over us for a moment before he speaks again, "How about you call me before the presentation tomorrow, okay? I will make up a large list of encouraging things to say tonight, and tell you all of them tomorrow. And if you need to run out of the class part way through due to anxiety, then I will threaten the professor's life if he tries to give you a low grade."

"Please don't do that." I say, unable to hold back the grin that appears on my face.

"Fine." He lets out an overly dramatic sigh. "Anyway, I'm not letting you go just yet. How's the college life? You never answered my text yesterday. I was worried you got hit by a bus."

"Why a bus?" I ask, though simultaneously trying to deflect the conversation.

"I had a dream where that happened. It was not very pleasant..." He trails off for a second. "Anyway, stop avoiding the question. Meet any guys? Girls? People of other various identities?"

I can always appreciate my dad being inclusive. Though, the last time we had this conversation rather than shortening it to "people of other various identities" he listed off every gender identity he's heard over the years. I didn't even try to stop him because I was curious how many he could actually name. He got seventeen. He's been very immersed in the queer community since I came out when I was 14. "Not any I'm interested in, no." I admit.

"Darn. If you do meet someone though I need to know immediately. And you should bring them for Thanksgiving! I'm sure Quinn has already told you, but she intends on bringing her boyfriend."

"What!" I exclaim. This is news to me. "She has a boyfriend?"

"Mhm. He came over yesterday. Not what I had expected but he seems nice." Dad shares.

"Wow. I'm going to have to beg her for details." My sister has been single her whole life. At least to my knowledge. So this is very exciting news. I've dated practically no one as well—I've never even kissed anyone. I wonder if Quinn has kissed him—or anyone—yet. My 13 year old sister should not be getting more game than me.

"Well it's too bad you're still single. Again, you need to tell me ASAP if that changes. How are things with your annoying roommate though?"

I hesitate for a moment. "Uh... She's still quite irritating but she kind of helped me when I almost had another panic attack just a bit ago..." I admit.

"Oh really? Glad someone could help you. I think? You don't sound very happy..."

"I just wish it was anyone but her..." I clarify. "I don't like being vulnerable in general, but I hated feeling that way in front of her. We aren't friends. I hate her and she hates me."

"Why do you hate her?" He asks, curious.

"Because she is rude, blunt, and constantly pestering me. She's also just plain annoying."

"I see... But I take it she was not any of those things a bit ago though?" I don't answer. "Hm. Maybe that's just how she is. The kind that's a tease, but still knows when to quit—which is good, but I can see how that gets annoying for you."

I pull my phone away from my ear for a second to check the time. It's 9:56 PM. I should get ready for bed. I'm exhausted from crying and having a mental breakdown in my car for three hours. "Right. I should get going though. It's late."

"Oh shoot. Yeah. Make sure to call me tomorrow, alright?" He reminds me.

"I will, thanks. Love you."

"Love you too, kiddo. Goodnight."

"G'night." I reply, and then hang up the phone. I rub my tired eyes and go to go back inside the dorm. Unfortunately, I quickly find that the door has locked, and I don't have my card. Kiara better be awake still.

I rap on the door loudly, hoping to wake her up in case she did fall asleep. She gets to the door quickly though, stepping aside once she sees me to let me in.

"Are you okay?" She asks as she shuts the door behind me. "Or better at least?"

"Yeah. And uh..." I hesitate for a moment before speaking again. "Thanks for not being a dick, I guess."

She smirks the way she always does, though it angers me less right now. "Like I said, I am not heartless. It's no problem."

I nod. "Definitely not heartless, but still very irritating."

"No, I think you're just irritable." She argues. My eyes instinctively roll.

"That may be true, but I suppose that's part of the reason I find you so annoying. Which means I still hate you."

"Trust me, you have made that very obvious." She leans her side against the wall, peering down slightly at me. Her hands are buried in the pockets of the black sweatpants she's wearing.

"Well then I'm glad we are both aware that feeling is mutual." And deep down I'm also glad things are returning to normal here.

She raises an eyebrow at my words. "That's where you're wrong. I don't hate you," She admits, surprising me. "I just enjoy seeing the ways you express your hatred towards me."

This is an interesting revelation. Though, in a way, it just sounds like she gets off to making me mad. I'm not really sure how to respond... "I guess I'll have to express less then." I say. I know for a fact I won't be able to avoid the irritation that is bestowed upon me whenever Kiara teases me, so it's really a blind threat, but I do say it anyway.

"Darn." She says sarcastically. She leans forward, her face level with mine like she did that first day. "We'll see about that..." And then she gives me a passive aggressive smile, with closed eyes and upturned lips. Then she steps away and walks back to her bed.

Weirdo.

I gather a change of pajamas and go into the bathroom. I, of course, need to change but I'd also like to be alone for a moment.

I really cannot read Kiara. She seemed so genuine and concerned earlier, but just a minute ago she was being her usual, annoying self. I guess it checks out that—like my dad said—she knows when to quit and how to be decent, but it still confuses me. Also she said she doesn't hate me?

I know I'm overthinking this but I really cannot figure out what her deal is. Maybe I should confront her about it... I don't know though.

Where is Claire when you need her? Come to think of it, I haven't even talked to her since we both left for college. Maybe she can help me figure this out.

♥♥♥

I flinch awake at the sound of my alarm. Goddammit. I see Kiara sit up. I do too, slapping my phone to shut off the horrible noise.

As I begin to climb out of bed I feel a sense of dread wash over me. Fuck. Presentation day.

Kiara seems to notice the look on my face. "You okay?" She asks from where she's standing beside her bed right across from me. She stretches.

"Yeah." I say, my voice slightly rough from sleep. "I just have a thing to do today..." I stand up finally, approaching my closet as I rub my eyes.

"Which is?" She pushes. I catch her pulling off her tank top from the corner of my eye. I make a point to look away completely.

"Just a stupid presentation." I admit. I look through my clothes, trying to decide what to wear.

"Is that related to whatever was going on last night?" Ugh I hate how forward she's being.

"Maybe..." I mutter. I know she hears me though, even if she doesn't answer right away. She always hears me when I say things under my breath.

"Interesting." She says, her voice thoughtful. This reaction bothers me.

I whip around—about to yell at her—but quickly realize she is in her underwear. I turn back immediately. She really needs to stop changing in front of me. She clearly doesn't care if I see, but I definitely care. I care very much. It threatens my dignity.

"What's interesting?" I try to sound cold, but my tone has faltered slightly. I don't like the image of her almost bare ass invading my thoughts.

"I guess I just didn't think you'd be the kind of person to get anxious over public speaking and stuff. That's what it is—right?" She clarifies.

I sigh. "Yeah. Glossophobia." I say it like it's some magical thing. I hold my change of clothes in my arms, about to go into the bathroom to change. "Why is that surprising, exactly?"

"Because your words are quite blunt and bold everytime you speak to me. And I dunno, you seem like the type who can just go up to someone and start a conversation." She explains.

"It's not social anxiety. It's just the feeling of a room full of people I know watching as I bullshit my way through some presentation no one actually cares about. I also suck at reading out loud, so naturally I stammer constantly... It's the humility of it." I don't know why I'm telling her all this. She shouldn't know any of it but I'm spilling my guts anyway.

"I see... That makes sense."

"Does it though?" As I reflect on my words now, it does sound like a bunch of nonsense.

"Yeah. At least to me it does." Her tone is slightly different from usual. More casual. She needs to pick a lane. First she annoys and messes with me, then she's being way too nice and respectful, then she's back to being irritating, and now she's just being... I don't know... Friendly? I mean I suppose the evidence points to her truthfully not hating me, which I guess I can appreciate, but I'm just confused.

I walk to the bathroom as Kiara is walking into the kitchen. I get changed quickly. I put on a white shirt, light pink zip-up and light gray sweatpants. I run a brush through my hair too. I need to re-dye my bangs soon. Ugh.

When I leave the bathroom I'm greeted with the smell of eggs. It's not a pleasant smell, but it makes me hungry for some. I see that Kiara is scrambling some in a pan. It seems she actually knows how to cook for herself. I should learn how to at some point as well...

"I'm making some for you too, by the way." Kiara says, likely feeling my eyes watching her. I would call her a bearded dragon again if it didn't go so weird the first time.

But seriously—WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? I realize what this might be... "You don't have to make me breakfast just because you feel sorry for me." I tell her.

She turns around, "Well too bad, because I made you some anyway." She begins to dish the eggs onto two plates. Once she's done she hands one to me. I do accept it.

"I think I would rather you call me a weasel right now." I claim, putting the plate down on the counter beside me. I take a bite. They're actually perfect. I try not to let my surprise show though.

"A least weasel you mean?" Damn I fell into that one. At least she's being more like usual.

I roll my eyes. "I take it back."

She smirks at me, then looks back down at her own plate. "You know I have enochlophobia." When she sees my confusion she clarifies, "It's the fear of crowds. I hate large groups of people. It makes me all paranoid and uncomfortable..." She trails off with a shrug.

But then I realize something. "Wait—then why the hell did you go to that party last week?"

Her eyebrows raise. "About that... I just wanted to seem like less of an introverted loser." She admits sheepishly. "I also had a false sense of hope I could make friends. That failed miserably... I don't even know, I wanted to seem cool too I guess?"

"So you're a people pleaser then too? You are quite interesting..." I say, trying to mimic the tone she used when calling me interesting earlier.

"Well at least I'm not a common weasel." She counters.

"I thought I was a least weasel?"

"Common and least weasels are the same thing, but nice try." She puts her now empty plate in the sink.

She is so irritating. She can't constantly just correct me on the right name, and then switch it up while still being right. It just isn't fair. I need to do some weasel research.

I'm about to say something rude or angry, but then remember what I said last night about reacting less. "Your weasel knowledge is certainly something..."

"Why thank you, I've done my research."

"That's really not something you should be proud of. Or admit to." Her smirk doesn't falter at my words though. I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to understand this bitch.