Chapter 11
Tommy
Waking up feels like trying to claw my way back from death.
Every millimeter of gained consciousness is a struggle that I kinda don’t want to win, but eventually my bladder makes the decision for me, and I groan loudly as I roll around on the bed, pissed off that I have to get up.
Stupid bladder, stupid daytime, stupid big soft bed that I could barely sleep in because I was so upset and it was so fucking quiet in this apartment.
I shuffle to the connected bathroom, bleary and grumpy, but as I pee, the pent-up pressure in my bladder being released actually makes me relax a bit.
I take a second to appreciate the fact that I get to walk into a private bathroom and use it without sharing it or waiting, and it’s a big clean one with lots of light and no cracks in the floor or the sink, and the tub isn’t stained and the ceiling doesn’t leak at all.
It’s a really nice bathroom, is what I’m saying.
So maybe I shouldn’t complain so much.
But fuck me, I’m so fucking tired.
I stumble through getting dressed and washing my face, but I get a bit more awake and aware as I peek out of my bedroom into the hallway.
I wouldn’t say I’m in enemy territory, per se, but it sure as hell isn’t my territory.
I’m not sure what the rules are; I’m not sure if I can be Tommy here, or if I have to be Tommy Claremont.
Maybe some mix of both.
The sound of voices from down the hall makes me hesitate, and I listen for a while.
I can tell its Kira, and I think Lexie, but the acoustics in this place don’t allow me to understand what they’re saying from here.
Out of habit–and maybe ingrained paranoia and fear–I sneak out of the bedroom in my socks, making no sound at all on the gleaming floor.
I don’t even know why I’m sneaking. Like, if someone stopped me and asked me right now what I’m doing and why, I wouldn’t even know what to say.
But walking out there confidently, like no one’s ever been hidden around a corner waiting to jump me, just isn’t something I can do.
Not even here, in Kira’s apartment, where I’m more likely to be jump-scared by my own damn thoughts and memories than by anything else.
I wait at the end of the hall where I can hear them better, listening in. But they’re just talking about professors and classes and stuff that doesn’t matter to me, so I end up feeling stupid for creeping around. With a sigh, I cautiously poke my head out.
Kira sees me first. She and Lexie are sitting daintily on plush stools at the giant kitchen island, their hands carefully held over some napkins on the counter, and I eye the bottles of nail polish beside them.
Kira stops mid-sentence to wave and smile, and there are half empty mugs beside them and clean dishes drying on a rack by the sink.
It’s all so… domestic and normal.
I shouldn’t have left my room. I feel like I just interrupted them, like I just interrupted their life.
I don’t know why the sight of those nail polish bottles and coffee cups makes me think that, but it does.
And it’s true, isn’t it? I’m an interloper, the variable that isn’t supposed to be here, the guest that’s overstayed his welcome.
But Kira already saw me, so I can’t retreat anyway.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Kira says softly, settling my nerves somewhat. “You must’ve been really tired. Are you feeling better?”
“Hey,” I say, watching Lexie watch me. Last time she saw me, I was beating a man to death, or nearly there anyway, so I’m not surprised that she seems… leery. “I’m feeling better. What time is it?”
“It’s almost one p.m.” Kira waves me over, but I lean against the back of a sturdy couch several feet away, rather than joining them on a stool. I don’t want to crowd Lexie. “Are you hungry? We already ate, but we can have Gemma come back up and cook something for you.”
“Gemma?”
“My chef, she lives downstairs.”
“Ah, of course. Your chef.” I roll my eyes at her, and she blushes a bit but tsk’s her tongue at my sarcasm.
“Don’t be jealous, Tommy,” she teases. “You can call her whenever you need to, and she’ll cook almost anything you can think of. Think of it like an extension of Uncle Young-gi’s buffets, but made-to-order!”
I huff, trying to laugh along with her, but a tepid smirk is the most amusement I can muster right now. My head is stuffed full of thoughts that are somehow both muffled and raw at the same time, two very opposite feelings that have no business mixing up inside me.
“Hey, Tommy,” Lexie says, eyeing me up and down.
“Lexie,” I greet back.
We stare at each other like two stray cats on the street, sizing each other up, trying to figure out if the other one is about to pounce.
Eventually, she hmmm’s. “Kira told me to give you another chance.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Guys.” Kira face-palmed, but we ignored her.
“You could’ve killed Brian.”
“I know.” Since we’re being blunt, I decide to tell the full truth. I decide to be just Tommy, at least a little bit. “But Kira would’ve been scared. She was already scared. I didn’t want to make her cry.”
“Don’t you care at all about how Brian is doing?”
“Not really.”
“That’s scary, Tommy.” Her tone is disappointed, and a little judgmental.
And I scowl at that, because that seems unfair.
“Can you honestly say, honestly, that if he’d beat me that badly, he would’ve given a damn about how I was doing?
If he’d gotten me alone in the boxing gym, or if I hadn’t jumped off the balcony in your room to get out of the hallway he cornered me in, and he’d beat the shit out of me, would he have checked on me? ”
“What are you talking about?” Kira asks, aghast. “You jumped off a balcony?! Brian cornered you in a hallway?!”
Whoops.
“A lot happened when you weren’t looking,” I mumble, embarrassed about my slip of the tongue. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
“What the hell happened?” Lexie demands, but the anger is gone, replaced by shock. I guess I’ll take that trade. “Is that how you got those bruises all over your back? Did Brian hurt you?”
I sigh but decide I might as well tell them the whole gruesome story.
At this point, pointing out Brian’s egregious flaws will only help me in the long run.
If Lexie and Kira stop relating to him and feeling bad for him, then they’ll get over my fight with him much faster.
So I start at the beginning–the night in the library.
By the end of the description of Brian’s behavior with Janessa, and their argument, and the way he threw her, Kira and Lexie are both nearly in tears. I don’t even think Kira’s breathing.
“Oh my god… thank god you were there!” She gasps. “She could’ve been–she could’ve–that’s horrible!”
“He’s a monster!” Lexie covers her mouth.
I nod solemnly, trying not to smile with relief. My plan is working even faster than I thought it would. Good.
I leave out my weird staring contest with Young-gi (it wasn’t much of a contest anyway, now was it?), and the way I threatened Brian, and pick up the story with Janessa’s confession by the lake–just that she never slept with Brian, not that she is secretly in love with Kira–and Brian’s chase through the hallway.
At the time, I knew I could’ve taken those boys on, but I don’t say that to the girls.
Instead, I keep it to the bare, bald facts; the three boys cornered me, and chased me through the house with the intention of hurting me.
Jumping out the window to escape him just seemed like the easiest way out, but the girls act as if I’m admitting to jumping into shark infested waters.
“I rolled onto my back to break my fall,” I explain. “That’s what the bruises are from.”
“Brian teased you in the ring,” Lexie thinks back, her tone drifting as she remembers. “He said you didn’t ‘stick the landing’. He was talking about chasing you out of a window! That horrible, horrible, ugh! I don’t have a word strong enough for how horrible he is!”
Lexie looks right into my eyes, and her hesitation is almost entirely gone. I might as well be the honorable, harmless boy she met in her garden again. Instead of an attacker, now I’m the victim, and she forgives me. Just like I wanted.
“I’m okay,” I reassure her, trying to sound humble, but I’m feeling pretty victorious and smug.
Their anger and disbelief derails the conversation, and they talk over themselves and each other, animated and passionate.
They shake their heads, exclaim and gesture wildly with their hands as they go over the whole story again, and devolve into a gossipy discussion about Brian and Janessa and the entire summit.
They ask me questions–and I read their unspoken desire to hear the juicy parts of the story one more time, so I tell it all again, but with even more drama this time - and the girls gasp and exclaim all over again like it’s the first time hearing it. It’s almost fun. Like a play.
Kira’s phone rings with an alarm, making us all jump with surprise. She gasps, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Oh, crap! It’s time to go! We’re late!”
Lexie screeches, and they both fly out of their stools and race down the hall. I follow, curious and much more comfortable now that I know they aren’t mad at me anymore.
“Where are we going?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe of a very feminine, soft, princess-core bedroom. Kira’s, I’m assuming.
The closet door is open, and they’re all the way in Narnia, so I repeat my question louder to make sure they can hear me back there.
“Oh! Tommy–” Kira pops out of the closet with all her accessories on and her hair in a quick up-do. “Lexie and I have class today. We’ll be back tonight, after labs.”
Wait… “Am I not going? I could wait around campus, I don’t mind.”
Take me with you. Take me with you.