NINE
Aliya
THREE YEARS AGO
“If you don’t pull yourself together, I’ll have to inform your parents, Aliya.”
Ms. Collins looks at me with a disappointed expression. She asked me to stay after class to talk to me about my falling performance and increasing absences.
Last year I enjoyed coming to school. I had lots of friends and had fun learning. But in December, I not only lost my will in life, but everything else I had up to that point.
“Can you promise me that you’ll work on it? I know you’re actually a smart girl. Is something bothering you?”
She gives me a worried look, but I know she wouldn’t give a damn about me if I spoke the truth out loud.
Just like all the other adults, she would ignore my worries and problems.
But Lio isn’t like them.
He understands me.
Someday, when I tell him the real reason for my suicide attempt, I know he’ll help me.
He won’t ignore me. He’s never done that before.
“I’m fine, Ms. Collins. I just don’t feel like studying. That’s all.”
It shouldn’t be easy for a 14-year-old to tell lies without batting an eyelid, but all I feel is an endless emptiness.
Mr. Collins nods and turns to her papers. “We’re taking a math test tomorrow. If you want to prove to me that you took our conversation seriously, you can show me tomorrow.”
I’m sure she didn’t buy my cheap lie about not wanting to study, but she doesn’t follow up because she doesn’t care. She just needs to make sure I perform properly. She deliberately avoids everything else so as not to make her job any more complicated than it already is.
That’s exactly why I hate people.
I’ve almost made it out of the classroom when I stop just in time to avoid colliding with someone. It’s Mr. Jameson, the principal’s son and a trainee teacher at our school. He’s only been here a few weeks to finish his studies before starting a full-time teaching position.
Mr. Jameson’s grin seems almost mocking as he looks down at me, and his intense blue eyes cause an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I don’t know why, but every time our paths cross, I’m overcome with unease. Although he is about the same age as Lio, he seems to be the opposite of him – winter compared to summer.
I walk past him quickly and he enters the classroom to have a conversation with Ms. Collins.
Although I only met Lio yesterday, I have a strong urge to see him again. I know I should leave him alone, but I dial his number anyway and listen to the ringing.
“Yeah, little one?” His warm voice reaches my ear and warms my chest, which is frozen by Mr. Jameson’s presence.
“I’m taking a math test tomorrow.”
“You want to study with me?”
I like that I don’t have to say much for him to understand what I want. It’s like he can read my mind, even when he’s not around me.
“Can we?”
“Are you still at school? I’m coming to pick you up.”
Although I feel an endless emptiness inside me, I’m overwhelmed with emotions from Lio that were unknown to me before.
“Then I’ll wait here for you.”
I sit down on the steps outside the school and wait patiently for him to arrive. I don’t care whether we study or not, I just want to see him again.
Lio embodies the last spark of hope in me, everything I have left in this destroyed world.
As soon as I hear the roar of his motorcycle, I get up and walk to the gate, where he’s already parked and taken off his helmet. His tousled brown hair and smile make my heart flutter in my chest.
“You’re lucky. I was nearby when you called me.” He runs his fingers through his hair to fix it.
“Here.” He holds out a black motorcycle helmet that was attached to the front of his bike. I look back and forth between the helmet and his face, confused.
He laughs. “Don’t look at me like I’ve asked you to do something impossible. You wanted to learn. We have to go to the library for that.”
He wants me to ride a motorcycle with him?
I take the helmet he hands me and feel a little insecure. My father was a fan of motorcycles, but I was always too young to ride with him.
All I know about it is that it’s dangerous.
“Are you scared, kid?” He put his helmet back on and flipped up the visor.
“No.”
I eye the helmet, clueless as to how to put it on properly. Lio helps me and laughs at my helplessness. It’s a bit too big, so he adjusts it to ensure it fits me perfectly. As soon as it sits properly, he opens my visor so that I can see Lio clearly again.
I wonder who this helmet belongs to.
When I look at his bike, it’s the first time I’ve taken full notice of the details. The silver lettering of the brand name immediately catches my eye, but it’s the word in cursive underneath that piques my interest.
Stitch.
It looks like he designed the lettering himself to personalize his bike.
“Stitch?” I look at him curiously.
Stitch , as in an injury?
“It’s a nickname.”
“A nickname for you?”
“No,” he says, closing his visor and ending the conversation.
I can’t help but notice the slight unease in his voice. Lio is normally an open person, but there’s clearly something weighing on his conscience that he doesn’t want to talk about, much like my own inner demons that I don’t want to mention.
He closes the visor of my helmet too, so my vision is still clear, but my surroundings have lost some of their color.
Lio sits down on his bike and leaves some space behind him for me. I sit down carefully on the black leather seat and wrap my arms around his back. He casts a sideways glance at me, and I’m convinced there’s a smile on his lips under his helmet, even though I can’t see it.
I bury the nickname “Stitch” deep in my mind.
Before I can even prepare myself, he accelerates and races down the streets of Detroit.