6. Chloe
SIX
CHLOE
THEN
“Annika! Chloe! Time for school, wake up!” I hear Mia Gomes, Annika’s mom, call from the stairwell leading to the kitchen.
I grab the comforter, already twisted around me, and pull it closer, over my head.
I am not ready to get up. It’s only Thursday, so I have to deal with two more days of the week at the worst place ever: high school.
I wish Mia would give in to my begging and homeschool us.
I can feel Annika’s foot as she finds a spot on the mattress to hop over to get out of bed.
Annika’s bed has a mattress that pulls out from the bottom.
Her parents replaced her bed with this one when we were in middle school, as I spent more time at their house than at my own.
Living in my own house is not unbearable; it just feels empty.
My childhood home feels like a storage closet for all my stuff rather than where I live.
I’ve been at the Gomeses’ every day since last Friday.
Shortly after my dad left, Annika’s parents told me that I was always welcome in their home for as long as I needed, and I’ve taken them at their word.
Sometimes I do feel like a stray cat that they let inside their house and allow to sleep on the floor of their daughter’s room.
But even that feels more welcoming than being around my own mom.
We rarely see each other. If I’m home, I am in my room painting.
If my mom isn’t working, she’s in her room watching TV.
If we pass each other, we give strained smiles like strangers passing on the street.
I’m not sure if I love my mom. I feel like I should, and the fact that I don’t makes me feel so guilty.
“Chloe, wake up,” Annika says, and I feel her nudge me.
I pull the cover away from my face and see Annika standing over me, poking my side with her foot, covered in the black-and-white checkered socks that I gave her for Christmas.
Annika had a crush on an F1 racer last year, and I got her racing-themed presents as a joke.
“I am awake. Can we play hooky today?” I say as Annika grabs the end of my comforter and yanks it off me.
“The twins and I ask my mom that every other week—she never agrees.” Annika’s twin brothers, Wes and Joey, are in middle school, the same one Annika and I attended.
It’s about ten minutes from the high school, so we usually drop them off first. Annika’s parents bought her a used Honda Civic for her sixteenth birthday, so she has been our designated driver ever since.
Last Saturday afternoon, Annika and I were in her room making bracelets when Joey came in and exclaimed that he wanted candy. But not just any candy.
“Mentos?” Annika questioned him. “What are you, seventy?’
“Maybe I am!” he retorted. “You don’t know what old soul they might’ve stuck me with. And this grandpa wants fruity-flavored Mentos,” Joey said, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and pulling them up like suspenders.
Annika rolled her eyes at Joey while I giggled. I swear, Joey learned to be dramatic from Annika. They look the most alike, too, with their fair skin and dark features.
“Why can’t Dad take you to get Mentos?” she asked as she kept working on her bracelet.
“He is watching the Padres game. And mom said it’s good driving practice for you.” Joey crossed his arms, squinting at her. When Annika didn’t budge, he changed his tactics, unfolding his arms.
“Please, Anni, please, please, please. I swear I won’t barge in your room for a week.”
“A month.”
“Two weeks.”
“Deal, meet me at the foyer in five minutes.”
Joey jumped with delight and ran out. “Wes, get your shoes on! Anni is taking us on a candy spree.”
“Whoa! Not what I agreed to!” Annika got up, grabbed her keys, and the four of us went to the nearest convenience store, where I treated us all to candy.
Annika’s dad, Eddie, slipped me a twenty-dollar bill on the way out.
It’s moments like that where I’m reminded how different my family is from Annika’s.
The sheer amount of them is a harsh contrast to my own.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted a sibling.
If so, it meant I wasn’t going through things alone.
I wonder how some events growing up would be if I had a built-in friend by my side.
I don’t know if I’d ever admit to Annika how envious I am of her relationship with her parents.
I don’t know if she will ever realize how good she has it.
As we trot downstairs, backpacks slung over our shoulders, Joey and Wes are already seated at the kitchen table. Wes looks up at us, smiling, while Joey sits scowling in his chair.
“What’s got you in a mood today?” I ask Joey, who gives me the side-eye.
“He’s hungry,” Wes answers for him. He has golden-brown hair and olive skin, like his dad. It’s hard to believe Wes and Joey are twins until they start showing similar mannerisms or talking for one another.
Joey looks over at Wes, raising his left eyebrow.
“Hey, Mom, Joey wants an extra breakfast sausage today,” Wes calls over to Mrs. Gomes, who is getting breakfast ready at the stove.
“You got it, Joe,” their mom answers back and slides plates in front of us all. She gave Annika and me avocado slices with scrambled eggs instead of breakfast sausage. I decided I no longer wanted to eat animals I liked, and Annika joined me in solidarity.
“So, girls, have you decided what colleges you will apply to next year?” Mrs. Gomes asks as she takes her seat at the head of the table.
Annika and I exchange a look. I hate talking about college, and Annika knows it.
It’s not even about the cost of college, because I know I’ll probably be able to get some grants or student loans.
It’s the fact that I know I won’t enjoy it.
I already dread going to high school, and college just seems like a bigger version of it.
School feels like a daycare at this point, keeping teenagers from running free.
“Yeah, probably UCSD, UCSB, and USC. Somewhere not too far,” Annika says to her mom.
“What about you, Chloe? Same picks?” I look up to Mrs. Gomes, trying to push down any insecurities and putting a smile on my face.
“Yeah, hopefully we get into the same places,” I say with a tight smile.
“We will go wherever we both get accepted,” Anni says, giving me a little nod. I can’t imagine parting from my best friend and her family. One of my recurring nightmares is that we will go to different colleges, and I’ll lose her and her family. The only people who haven’t abandoned me.
“Let me and your dad know if you need help with applications. We want the best for you, both of you,” Mrs. Gomes says to us, and I feel a bit of relief. However, I see Annika shift in her chair. She’s worried about college for an entirely different reason.
Annika puts incredible pressure on herself.
She wants to be a role model, I think, not only for her brothers but also for me.
Even though I’m technically older than her by five months, and if she graduates from college, she’ll be the first graduate in her family.
She wants to make her parents proud. I’m sure they will be proud of her regardless.
But there’s no getting through to Annika when she’s in this mindset.
And for her, the worst thing is that she doesn’t know what she wants to major in in college.
A month ago, she constantly ranted about how irresponsible it was to let seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds decide their future.
I couldn’t really relate to her rant; I’ll pick something and work it out as I go.
“All right, time to go,” Annika says, standing up. I grab all the plates and put them in the dishwasher while Mrs. Gomes finishes cleaning up. She hugs us all, and we head out.
After dropping off her brothers, Annika enters the student parking lot and pulls into her usual spot.
There are no assigned spots, but everyone just parks in the same ones, and if someone new gets a car midway through the school year, they have to park toward the back.
We sit in the car a bit longer, looking at our phones and singing with the playlist blasting through the speakers.
The first bell sends a pang of dread through my chest, and we leave the car.
“See ya in English class,” Anni says as she walks to her homeroom at the other end of the school.
I walk to my class closer to the entrance, but I don’t want to be the first one there, so I go to the restroom first. I should love homeroom because I share it with my boyfriend, Liam.
We’ve been dating for two months, and he’s the sweetest boy ever.
He looks like Leonardo DiCaprio in his Titanic Era.
Just a cute, all-American boy, with floppy, dirty-blond hair and a big smile.
He brings me flowers every Friday and tucks a little note inside the stems. Things like, “You are the best” or “Your smile brightens my day.” I can’t help but melt whenever I read them.
Unfortunately, I also share class with Margot Compton, who, for some reason, hates me.
I know she’s the one who spread rumors about me my first year, and I have tried to keep my distance from her ever since.
She’s the main reason I hate going to school.
Another reason was my first ever heartbreak. One that never fully healed.