Chapter 18
Karla
My eyes fluttered with confusion.
The stupidest thing he’d ever heard?
That was harsh.
And mean.
And hurtful.
I didn’t know how to react, because over the past few months of us knowing each other, Ash had never been harsh. Not for even a second. I didn’t even know he had it in him.
I felt sick as I narrowed my eyes. “That’s rude.”
“Sorry, I . . .” he started, but his words faded away. “Wait, no. I’m not sorry. That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I was embarrassed. Then within a flash, I felt rage build up inside of me instead, because how dare he be so rude? I was so excited about Missy inviting me to the party, and Ash wasn’t even letting me celebrate that news.
Why did he have to be such a mood killer? I was happy.
Missy invited me! Me! Little ole reject me who never got invited to anything.
Maybe this was my chance to get back to where I used to be. Maybe this was the shot I needed to get my friends back. Maybe this was the path for me to be normal again, and not the high school reject.
Why couldn’t he see that? All I wanted to do was be normal. This was my shot at that . . .
“It’s not stupid at all. They’re my friends!” I said sternly, puffing my chest out.
“They are not your friends. They are freaking assholes.”
“No, they aren’t. You don’t even know them.”
“I know how they talk to you,” he snapped. “I see how they laugh at you.”
“You don’t know,” I disagreed.
“They mock you and laugh at you all the time. Why the heck would you want to be anywhere near them? They don’t like you.”
“Yes, they do. Missy invited me!” She invited me.
That meant something. It had to have meant something.
She still cared. She still liked me. I wasn’t a monster to her.
She was my friend. I figured it was just hard for her to be a friend to me after all the drama I’d brought to everything after the accident.
I was sure she just had to figure out how to be my friend again.
Plus, Brian would be at the party. He’d help showcase that we were still friends, and to show our other friends that even though I was different, I was still the same in a lot of ways, too. It was a chance to reintroduce myself. It was a chance at being . . . me again.
All I wanted to do was be the old me again.
I didn’t get why Ash couldn’t understand that.
“Didn’t you skip school yesterday because said jerks were bullying you?”
“Not Brian, and he’ll be at the party,” I quickly justified.
Brian never bullied me. Not once. Not ever.
He wouldn’t. It was just Missy’s boyfriend, Colton, who was a bully toward me.
But maybe that was because he didn’t know me yet.
Maybe if he got to know me, he wouldn’t think I was so disgusting.
That’s probably what Missy was thinking, too.
That was probably why she invited me, so Colton could see I wasn’t a big loser.
“Yeah, but I doubt Brian spoke up on your behalf,” Ash spat out. His nostrils flared as he talked to me, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand why he didn’t understand how this was great for me.
But how could he understand?
He was the boy who talked to dead people and walked around with toy trucks in his pocket when he could’ve easily chosen to be popular instead.
That made me angry because he had everything I wanted.
He had the good looks, the charisma, the humor, and he took it all for granted.
He chose his current lifestyle of loneliness.
I didn’t have an option. So how dare he try to take this moment away from me?
This was my one shot at being me again. And if my friends let me back in, they’d probably love him, too.
I’d tell them how great he was, and how he could make them laugh for hours.
Couldn’t he see? This was good for the both of us. We could be popular together.
“Gosh, is it so hard to understand that this party would mean a lot to me?” I tried to explain. I felt like I was speaking an alien language that he couldn’t comprehend at all. “This is a good thing.”
“What’s your weird obsession with being friends with them?” he asked as he tossed his hands up in annoyance.
“Because they were my friends before, and I want to be normal again.”
“Normal isn’t even good.” He pulled out his phone and frantically started typing on it. He then held it up to me. “See?! Do you see that?” he asked.
I looked at his phone and stared at the definition of “normal.”
Conforming to a standard.
Usual.
Typical.
Expected.
Average.
He pulled his phone away from me, still with anger in his eyes. Why was he so angry about a party invite? Or maybe it was hurt. Who knew? My mind couldn’t always grasp the exact emotions others were feeling. I hardly understood my own emotions.
“See? Nothing about normal means good. It just means the same basic bullshit over and over again. The status quo,” Ash said.
“Well, maybe I like the status quo!” I argued back.
My chest ached. My body hurt. My heart hurt even more, though.
“I miss the status quo! I miss not being a freak. I miss having friends. I miss people liking me! I miss my life before this,” I hollered, gesturing to my disgusting face.
To my hideous scars. “I miss being the me I was before. I hate the me I am now. Nobody likes this.”
“I do,” he whispered with a slight shake in his voice. Ash’s stare shifted to the floor, and he took a few deep breaths. “I like who you are now.”
“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a freak,” I said without thought.
The words left my mouth faster than I would’ve liked.
I wished I’d let my brain think first instead of allowing my feelings to run wild.
I wished it was slower, like the rest of my body.
Because I didn’t want to call him a freak.
I didn’t even think he was a freak. Ash was nice.
And kind. And smart. And silly. He was the only one who not only looked at me as if I were a regular person but talked to me as if I was his friend.
He was kind to me when others belittled me.
He was in my corner before he even knew my last name.
And my stupid brain found the need to put him down in that moment because he was telling me that I was good enough.
What was wrong with me?
Why was I such a monster?
“A freak,” he murmured, his voice cracking. His hand raked through his hair and he sniffled. He wouldn’t look at me. “Karla, those people don’t like you.”
“How do you know? You don’t!”
“I do!”
“How?!”
“Because I know them!” he shouted, frustration shooting through his whole body. “I know assholes like them. They were the same type of people who bullied Rian. Believe me when I say I know that those people, Missy, Colton—Brian—they don’t like you. They are mocking you.”
My chest tightened.
This wasn’t about me at all. This was about Ash and whatever past drama he had.
“I’m sorry Rian was bullied, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about my friends.”
“Your friends?!” he spat out. His eyes bugged out in his head as if I were the stupidest person in the world. “Those people are not your friends! Why can’t you get it through your head? They hate you, Karla. They are mocking you. And nothing good is going to come from you going to their party.”
“Stop it, Ash,” I hissed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed because a part of me knew he was right. Yet the bigger part of me wanted to believe he was jealous. “You’re just mad that they don’t like you.”
“They don’t like anyone!” he shouted. He looked so angry. I didn’t know his face could look like that—enraged. “They are dicks who ruin people’s lives because they don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. Karla, you’re making a bad mistake.”
I swallowed hard. “You need to leave.”
“What?”
“I want you to leave! Get out! I’m not your friend, Ash. I just felt bad for you.”
“You felt bad for me?”
“Yes. But clearly that was a mistake. I don’t want to be friends with you.
I don’t want you here.” My mind was moving faster and faster as embarrassment and shame started to build in my gut.
I didn’t know why it happened, but whenever I felt that way, I grew defensive and mean.
I put up a wall of protection to keep out anyone who could hurt me.
In that moment, it was Ash. I needed to push him away, because he was causing too much confusion in my head. All I wanted was to go to the party.
All I wanted was to be me again.
Why couldn’t he see that?
“You don’t get it, Karla. My brother killed himself because of people like Colton and Missy.”
“I’m not your brother, Ash. Stop putting that on me.”
He looked frustrated as he raked his hands through his hair. “That’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is they don’t give a shit about you.”
“You’re just jealous,” I murmured, feeling my heartbeat pick up in speed as my brain became foggy. “These people were my friends long before you, and they would never hurt me the way those people hurt your brother.”
“Yes, they will.”
“I don’t want you here,” I said as I stepped away from him.
My hands were sweaty, and my head felt dizzy.
Rage was slowly building up inside me, and if he didn’t turn and walk out of the room, he was going to be the target for all the darkness inside me.
I was so confused. Why was he acting like this?
I thought he was my friend, and now instead, he was turning against me and my one shot at real happiness.
Didn’t he want that for me? Didn’t he want me to get better?
“You need to leave now,” I told him.
“Karla—”
“Stop talking to me! You just want everyone to be miserable like you! Well, I won’t let you ruin this for me.
If you want to stay a loser, fine! Stay a loser and get out of here!
” I screamed as I tossed my hands in his direction.
I couldn’t stop saying mean things, because I felt uncomfortable and unstable and abandoned by him.
Just like Mom abandoned me. Just like Dad abandoned me.
Because that was what people did—they let me down and hurt me.
So I had to hurt him back. It was the only way I could think to protect myself.
I kept yelling. “I’m not your freaking brother, OK?
! I’m not your redo at saving him! You don’t get to save me!
You’re not some hero in a novel, and I’m not a damsel in distress!
I’m sorry your brother’s dead, but it’s not my fault he died!
” I shouted with a rage I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I was morphing into exactly what the kids at school called me: a monster.
I was becoming a cruel creature with no humanity as I raged at him.
“I don’t need you, Ashish. I never needed you, and I want you to leave! You mean nothing to me!” I lied.
Why was I doing it? Why couldn’t I slow down the chaotic thoughts of my mind? Why couldn’t I stop hurting him?
Ouch.
I couldn’t stop yelling at him, even when I heard him sniffling.
I wasn’t even mad at him, but he was just the target that was in front of me.
Grandma Claire called it lashing out at the wrong target.
I didn’t even know who the right target was, but Ash was getting the cruelty swung his way.
I saw the hurt in his eyes as I screamed.
What was wrong with me? Why did I feel so angry?
Why was I so cruel? Why was I taking all the pent-up words I wanted to use on myself and throwing them at Ash as if that made any sense?
Ouch.
He stood still as I shouted at him. Defeated. Hurt.
Ouch.
I yelled until my vocal chords felt scratched.
My dad showed up in the hallway, confused.
“What’s going on?” Dad asked with a deep, serious tone.
He stared at me, probably seeing my reddened face filled with hate.
But it wasn’t hatred for Ash. I knew that much to be true.
I didn’t hate him. If anything, I liked him more than I’d liked anything in a very long time.
It wasn’t him I hated. It was . . . me. I hated myself.
Ash didn’t call me a name back.
He didn’t try to match my energy.
He just stayed quiet.
And sad.
I did that to him . . . I made him sad.
That hurt me the most, so why couldn’t I just force myself to apologize? Why couldn’t I say I overreacted? Why was I so messed up? My heart felt as if it were pounding wildly against my throat somehow. Why did it feel like I’d choke if I said one more word?
Say something, Karla. Say sorry. Say you didn’t mean any of the things you yelled at Ash. Just apologize.
Do it.
Now.
Say sorry!
“I want him to leave, Dad! Please. Get him away from me!” I cried. I approached Dad and tugged on his suit sleeve. “Please, Dad? Please? Please get him out of here.”
Dad’s eyes glassed over as he stared at me. He then looked at Ash with a stare filled with regret. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Listen, Ash . . .”
“It’s OK, Mr. East,” Ash stated. “I get it. I’ll go.”
He then turned and walked away.
I held my breath for what felt like fifty hours, just to make sure he was gone.
The moment I heard the front door close, I let out a heavy sob. I couldn’t believe some of the things I’d said to him. I couldn’t believe the disgusting words that flew out of my mouth. He was my friend. The only friend who wasn’t afraid to see me, not only in the shadows, but in the light, too.
Dad didn’t know what just happened.
He didn’t know why I was in a full-blown panic attack.
He didn’t know what had taken place between Ash and I moments before he arrived.
If he had known, he might’ve sided with Ash and checked to make sure he was OK.
If he had known what truly was said, he would’ve asked Ash to stay.
He would’ve comforted Ash for his emotions and told him that the words I used toward him weren’t true.
But he didn’t know.
All he knew was that his daughter—his mean-hearted, troubled daughter—was in the middle of an active panic attack.
So all he did was wrap his arms around me.
He pressed me close to his body as if he had no plans of letting me go.
I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to let me go.
It was the closest thing I’d had to my father in over a year.
I didn’t know how much feeling his embrace around me would make me break that much harder.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “Let me go!” I cried. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I didn’t know who I was sorry to—maybe Ash, maybe Dad. Maybe my mom. “Please, Dad. Please. Just let me go.”
“Never,” Dad swore. “I will never let you go, Karla.”
He couldn’t let me go.
He wouldn’t.
If anything, he held me tighter.
I cried more.
He cried, too, but still, he didn’t let me go.