Six #2
“I gotta go.” He sighed, his gaze still fixed on his phone. “And just so you know, the only reason I’m not bothering to wreck your ridiculous campaign is because I don’t have to—you’ll do that all on your own.”
My jaw tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“No offense, Clarke, but you’re a disaster waiting to happen. You’re trapped in your own little bubble, and you think that everyone loves you, but how many people do you think actually care about you in a way that actually means something?”
My breathing hitched.
It’s not like I didn’t feel the exact same hatred about myself, but the whole goal of being this bubbly and outgoing person at school was to prevent other people from thinking the same thing.
“That’s not true! Everyone loves me!” I shook my head as my face became flushed. “I don’t get bullied, I-I have lots of friends—”
“Mmhm. Keep telling yourself that.”
“I…I—”
My hands began to tremble, and I felt my breathing quicken.
The ceiling was about to collapse on top of me.
I could feel it. Even the skin on my scalp began to tingle amidst the crushing sensation of the building’s impending disaster.
How come nobody else could feel the earthquake that was causing the walls to rattle?
My chest filled with heat, the burning pressure consuming my ribcage.
I hated that I cared so much, but I couldn’t turn it off.
How do you not care? I couldn’t breathe.
I wanted to defend myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
If I opened my mouth again, I would run the risk of letting all my secrets and every emotion I held dear rattle off my tongue.
The only person I really talked to—like really spoke to—was Jessie.
But she wasn’t here anymore.
And I didn’t want to replace her…not yet.
So, until then, the best I had to offer was silence. Besides, it’s not like Elliot really cared anyway, and if he was telling the truth about his so-called responsibilities, he had way more problems to deal with rather than listening to some dumb blonde freakshow trauma dump all over him.
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered while walking away.
And then I was alone.
Just like I had been for the last five years.
I sat on my bed with a book in hand, attempting to push away my fears and immerse myself in reading before tonight’s big game.
A familiar feeling started to grow in the pit of my stomach.
It was almost time to get ready to leave.
I closed the book and slid it back into its spot, tucked between The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith and Checkmate by Ali Hazelwood.
The Homecoming game was the first big cheer event of the school year and a precursor to the dance—two important occasions occurring just a day apart.
It was a social anxiety nightmare. I rubbed my eyes with my fingers until I saw stars.
Envy became my only emotion as I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly as I thought about the overall easygoing and nonchalant energy that everyone else always seemed to exude, while I, on the other hand, was constantly drowning in a sea of unrealistic anxieties.
I didn’t know why, but my nerves would always shoot through the roof right before every game, even though I had been cheering for four years now.
I exhaled a long sigh while stretching my arms toward the sky, elongating my spine.
Walking over to my closet, I rummaged through each item in search of my cheer uniform.
When I found it, I gently smoothed out the creases and laid it neatly on my bed.
The signature Honey Bee logo was stitched into the black and white fabric, with silver sparkles embellishing the sides.
I was convinced a shower would be just what my body needed to prepare for tonight’s game, so I stripped off my clothes and slowly padded into the bathroom.
Everything finally seemed to sink in during the hour leading up to the homecoming game when I stepped out of the shower and my knees began to wobble.
I clutched the towel around my chest while leaning against the bathroom counter.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I froze, my feet glued to the ground.
Tonight, anything was possible—someone messing up the routine, Ryan following me like a love-sick puppy, Elliot making a surprise appearance, the game being rained out, pigs flying—literally anything.
The thoughts I had managed to push away were trying to resurface.
Summoning the last bit of mental strength I had, I raised my hands to my face and began rubbing vigorously as if my skin were covered in dirt that wouldn’t come off.
It immediately snapped me out of my trance, but I knew it wouldn’t last if I didn’t focus on something else.
I quickly walked back into my bedroom and grabbed my Kindle, unlocking the screen.
An audiobook would be just what I needed to occupy my mind.
My eyes eventually landed on The Upside of Falling by Alex Light as I tapped the cover, my shoulders sagging as the words pulled me away.
I twisted the handle to the faucet and doused my face with water before grabbing my makeup bag.
The humidity was bound to kick my ass tonight.
Lighter coverage it is . The story continued to unfold as I applied lotions, creams, and powders, oh my.
When I exited the bathroom, I was the perfect moisturized and rejuvenated exclamation of the female beauty standard, but I much preferred the raw and unfiltered version I was before I went in.
Tossing my towel onto the bed, I hastily tugged the itchy fabric of my cheer uniform over my knees and slid it up my body.
Not a stain or wrinkle in sight. Four sprays of perfume later, I was a walking vanilla factory.
I ran a brush through my hair frantically, slicking back each strand until it was neatly tied into a high ponytail.
My fingers grasped a bow covered in dusty sparkles that coated any surface it touched as I flicked my wrist, shaking free the loose remnants before clipping it onto the bridge of my ponytail.
Ten minutes later, I was out the door. My parents stood by the car, waiting to drive me to the game.
At first, I hated that they always came to watch me cheer, but now I secretly loved it.
Having both of them in the crowd felt like having my own little mini-entourage.
Somehow, knowing they were up there supporting me eased my anxiety.
“Hurry up, kiddo! You don’t want to miss your first big game of the year,” my dad said as he slid into the driver’s seat of the sedan, attempting to shut the door behind him.
“Uh-uh.” My mom shook her head, using her leg to prevent the car door from closing. “I’m driving. Get out.”
“You know I have a license, right?”
“Yeah, and I’m still not sure how you managed to get it.”
I laughed as I slid into the back seat, listening to their fruitless argument.
“This is what happens when you get into one accident with your mother in the car over twenty-three years ago,” he muttered as he walked around to the passenger side, sitting down with a huff.
“Oh, don’t even try to leave out the most important part.” My mother looked back at me, pleading her case. “I was thirty weeks pregnant with Jessie.”
“Oof. Did you really crash the car with a pregnant lady in it? Dad, come on.” I tsked.
“Yeah, I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?” he asked, a frown tugging at his lips. “In my defense, it was a minor fender bender.”
“Well, if I drive, there will be no accidents, period. Not even a fender bender. Isn’t that right, honey?”
My dad turned to me, whispering far too loudly, “Pssst, Clarke! Wanna know the secret to a happy marriage? Watch this.” He beamed at me before shifting his attention back to Mom. Bowing his head, he continued, “Of course, sweetie, darling, honey, snookums.”
“Oh, aren’t you just full of jokes today?”
“And you love me for it.”
“More because of it, actually,” she said, leaning over the console and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You gotta train ‘em early, Clarke.”
“You guys are adorable, and I hate it.” I gagged.
My mom peeled out of the driveway. “Healthy relationships are often cringey, darling. You’ll see.”