Chapter 3
Chapter three
You can’t always get what you want
But you don’t always know what you want until it’s gone.
Life gives and takes, but we only notice when it steals what it’s provided.
Maybe this is the curse of being human—we’re bound to stumble through life with eyes closed, only opening them when something is gone.
My awakening to this harsh reality began in eighth grade. If only I had opened my eyes sooner.
It was the dreaded first day of eighth grade, the day I had to bid farewell to summer memories and begin another torturous year of school.
My insides churned like acid as my mother drove up to the front of the carpool line.
The red bricks of the school building loomed, taunting my every breath.
My heart pounded in my chest like it was plotting an escape.
“Hey, Ms. M,” Jamie asked my mom from the back seat.
“If Jinx passes out at gym class again, can I ride with you guys to the hospital this time?” Jamie found endless amusement in my last name, Jinx—a fitting metaphor for the afflictions my father seemed to bestow upon my life.
He was the kind of man who lit a match to see what burned, then wondered why the smoke never cleared.
He walked out when I was too young to remember much—my earliest memories of him faint, like shadows cast by a dying light.
Yet his absence still shaped my life like the lingering echo of a storm that never fully passed.
I smacked Jamie’s arm. “Thanks for the support. Truly, I’m lucky to have such a caring best friend.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “And for the record, that gym thing was one time!”
“You passed out because a ball almost hit you,” Jamie countered, barely holding back a snicker.
Lucas chimed in from the front seat, turning his body to face us, his eyes gleaming with mocking taunts. “You do realize it’s our duty never to let you live that down, right?”
I jabbed my finger at Lucas’s slightly crooked nose. “First of all, that ball was an inch from my cheek. Second, I told that meathead PE teacher that sports and I are mortal enemies. She didn’t listen, and her punishment was paying my hospital bill.”
My mother chuckled from the driver’s seat. “After you threatened to sue her for child endangerment.”
I leaned forward, positioning my elbows on my knees. “ specifically told me I had a case. I’m just saying.”
“Okay, miss hotshot lawyer, get your debating butt into class before I get called into the principal’s office on the first day again.”
I shrugged and flashed a sassy grin. “Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted more family traditions.”
Her blue eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, disapproval etched in her gaze. “Yes, but I’d prefer traditions that don’t end with me picking you up from detention.”
“Take it or leave it.”
The school cafeteria buzzed with the usual chaos of hormonal teenagers playing a game of Russian roulette with their seating choices.
Every year was the same: students nervously paced the cafeteria floor, waiting to be granted a seat in the clique of their choice.
Parents liked to think their taxpayer money paid for the enrichment of their children’s minds, but eighth grade was a cesspool of hormonal preteens clawing at the chance of fleeting popularity.
I couldn’t care less about “who sat with whom,” but that wasn’t up to me.
Middle school was a ferocious jungle filled with training bras and eyeliner.
Consequently, a set of laws and a hierarchy system kept the ecosystem protected.
The prized spot was reserved for the jocks, who plagued the corner table with tales of touchdowns and slam dunks.
The preps, with trust funds bigger than their vacation homes, occupied the tables near the exit.
Artists and musicians, bless their tortured souls, sat nearby.
Goths and emos claimed the dimly lit center table while gamers battled digital dragons by the vending machines.
The bookworms, immersed in their novels, sat in the corner by the window.
Drama kids, ever theatrical, sat on the floor against the blue cinderblock wall.
Lastly, the nerds, geeks, and science whizzes solved the mysteries of the universe over by the teacher's table.
We were the wildcards, the social pariahs who didn’t conform to a table.
Lucas should have sat with the jocks, Jamie with the artists, and I should have eaten in the counselor’s office.
Instead, we chose social suicide and made our home at the community table—the island of misfit toys, where conspiracy theorists, Minecraft builders, and dry-erase sniffers gathered.
We were perfectly unnoticeable, and I loved it. No one bothered us, and we flew under the radar until today.
“Hey, give me your lunch.” Lucas grabbed at my brown sack like a heathen.
“No way, I’m not eating your nasty chicken salad sandwich.”
Lucas pouted like a baby. “Come on, please, this thing smells like wet dog.”
I raised the bag high. “How much is it worth to you?”
“No!” Lucas shouted, his face reddening. “I’m not paying you any more money. I’ll need a job because of you!” He shook the offending sandwich in my face, its smell assaulting my nose.
“Or you could stop making dumb decisions that put you in debt to me.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Lucas glared at Jamie, who was enjoying the show. “Are you going to let her extort me like this?”
Jamie shrugged, taking a bite of his PB thus, the concept of him having any appeal to the opposite sex was utterly lost upon me.
“Thanks.” The girl smiled back. “I’m Kayla.” She slid onto the bench beside Lucas, who beamed like a child with a new toy.
Jamie took a swig of his Gatorade. “I’m Jamie,” he said, scanning Kayla briefly.
Jealousy twisted inside me. “I’m Alex,” I spat, my words sharp.
Lucas leaned towards Kayla. “So, where’d you move from? Heaven?”
Kayla matched his grin. “I just moved from LA. My grandma’s not doing well, so my dad thought we should move to help.”
Tap! Tap! Tap! The sound of pink pumps against the cafeteria floor signaled trouble. I wearily tilted my head up—great, the preps. The queen bee, Bethany, stood before our table, arms crossed, her designer tank top wrinkling.
“You should be more careful, new girl. It’s your first day, and you’ve already made a stupid mistake,” Bethany hissed.
Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “And what would that be?”
Bethany’s smirk grew. “Fraternizing with the freaks.”
I stood up, my short frame barely reaching Bethany’s chest. “Back off, Bethany.”
Bethany cupped her ear. “Did you hear that? Sounds like a little mouse in need of another haircut.”
My blood boiled. Bethany had been tormenting me since we were kids.
She was the bitch who mangled my hair when I was six, a little demon brat who had grown into the devil.
Before I could react, Kayla grabbed Lucas’s lonely chicken salad sandwich, leaped in front of me, and squished the mayonnaise-filled lunch against Bethany’s hot pink beaded top with a satisfying squelch.
The absurdity of it all transformed my previous jealousy into pure amusement, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
The sound reverberated throughout the room, drawing shocked attention from nearby students.
Bethany let out a high-pitched shriek, piercing the air like a fire alarm.
Alerted by the commotion, a teacher approached swiftly. Ms. Martin’s footsteps smacked the tile like the gavel of a judge, and her voice was stern, instantly silencing the crowd. “What on earth is going on here?”
Still in shock and covered in mushed chicken, Bethany pointed a trembling finger at Kayla. “She did this to me! She ruined my top!”
I delivered a pleased grin. “I don’t see it that way. Kayla was embellishing an already nauseating attire. She was making it smell as bad as it looked.”
Kayla faced the teacher calmly, her words measured and composed like lyrics. “Exactly. I was trying to help the poor girl out.”
Ms. Martin’s eyes looked seconds from popping out of her skull.
“This is not the way to handle conflicts.” Her stare locked onto mine, her irises matching the pulsing vein on her forehead.
“I expect this sort of shenanigans from you, Ms. Jinx.” She turned to Kayla, risking knocking the tight bun off her head.
“But Ms. Jones! I hope you’ll reevaluate your choice of friends after this little incident. ”
I scoffed at her insinuation. “Always the freak’s fault, never the preps,” I grumbled. For a millisecond, I considered the repercussions of my words, but that never stopped my mouth from moving. “Tell me, what’s it like peaking in high school?”
Her face contorted in shock and offense. Her eyebrows shot up, and her nose flared. “That’s it!” she yelled through gritted teeth. “Alex, Kayla, you’re coming to the principal’s office with me.”
“You owe me ten bucks!” Lucas shot up from his seat like an outraged toddler. “You too, Jamie. Cough it up.”
Jamie bugged his eyes at me. “You couldn’t have waited another day to get sent to the principal’s office? I had my bet on Tuesday.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
As we walked down the hallway toward the principal’s office, I knew I should’ve been nervous—but I couldn’t help striding along with a ridiculous sense of glee. I hadn’t seen Bethany squeal like that since Jamie tripped her in third grade—and honestly, it was beautiful.
Kayla and I sat outside the principal’s office, waiting for our turn to be reprimanded, when she finally broke the silence. “I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble,” she whispered.
“Nah, it was worth it. Seriously, I feel like I should be throwing you a parade.”
Kayla’s eyes widened. “Good! So, are we okay then? Like friends?”
I pondered this. I had been the only girl in our trio since day one, and honestly, we needed more estrogen to break up all that testosterone. “Sure, why not?”
There was a brief pause, a moment of mutual tolerance during which I entertained the idea that I might not mind this reckless girl’s company. That was until Kayla spoke up again, her words tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “By the way, Alex, I hope you don’t think I’m into Jamie.”
I choked on her words, my throat tightening from the insinuation. “I don’t care.” My voice was high-pitched. “Jamie and I are just friends.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Really?” She raised a single judgmental brow at me. “Is that why you looked at me like you were gonna take my head off when I sat at your table? Because you’re ‘just friends?’”
I gasped. “I truly have no idea what you could be insinuating.”
“Whatever you say, Ms. Denial.”
I had never thought of Jamie as anything more than just a friend—my best friend, my other half, the person I had no doubt I would spend the rest of my life with.
But when I saw him look at Kayla with that flicker of intrigue, that gleam of curiosity, I realized I wanted Jamie to look at me that way.
I didn’t know what I wanted until I couldn’t have it.