CAELA
But she was already allowing people to call her Michaela, already trying to fit into the mold she thought her mother and stepfather wanted her to squeeze herself into. She told herself that she had too much integrity to sacrifice any other part of herself to make others more comfortable.
“I like the rainbows,” Sam said as he sat on her bed fiddling with one of the ribbons while she considered removing them.
“You do?” she asked.
He nodded. “Rainbows are pretty. Did you know there’s supposed to be treasure at the end of a rainbow?”
She smiled at him. “Oh yeah? What kind of treasure?”
“Gold,” he said. “And, um … toys, probably.”
“So you think I should keep them?”
“Uh-huh. They’re cool. Your backpack would look boring without them.”
“That’s true.”
It wasn’t long after that when Rob appeared in her bedroom doorway and whisked the five-year-old away, no doubt worried about the bad influence Caela must be on the kid.
Still, Sam’s opinion did mean something, and she decided to leave the rainbows on her backpack, no matter what the other kids at school thought about them.
It wasn’t as if her school back in Ohio had been super progressive or anything, but it had been larger, with nearly five times the number of students as this new school, and that meant there were more people to find her place with.
She hadn’t been popular; she hadn’t needed to be.
She’d had a small, core group of like-minded friends who made every day at least somewhat enjoyable, and two best friends she’d absolutely adored.
Best friends she had managed to quickly drift away from now that they weren’t in the same state.
Eliza had taken a full two days to text back after Caela saw the picture of her and Grady kissing.
She’d apologized, said she’d been busy, but hadn’t said a word about what was going on with Grady.
Caela didn’t know if Eliza was trying to keep it a secret or if she just didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Both options hurt.
It hurt worse that Grady hadn’t brought it up, either.
Caela couldn’t shake the feeling that her friends, despite all their proclamations of missing her and wanting her to come visit over fall or Christmas break, had moved on. She was out of sight and out of mind.
Maybe she could have tried to talk to them, tell them how she felt and worked to mend the rift that was forming. But any optimism she might have had was being slowly crushed out of her by each miserable day at school.
With every passing day, Caela hated that school more.
She hated that when she tried to bring up the bullying to her coach, she was brushed off.
She hated that the tiny school had no AV club or any opportunities for her to use her camera.
She hated that her mother had no interest in hearing any of her complaints, because as far as she was concerned, Caela must have been the problem.
But most of all, she hated the loneliness.
“I dunno what to tell you, Cae,” Bonnie said one night in October as they stood outside of Ricci’s after their shift. She was swiping through videos on her phone and leaning against Jennette. “School sucks.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You’re what? A senior?”
“Junior.”
“Crap. I can’t even tell you it’ll be over soon, then.”
Caela sighed and reached for the handle of her driver’s-side door. “I should get home.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Curfew. My parents will be furious if I’m home late.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Aren’t they always furious anyway?”
“Pretty much.”
“So why go home?”
Caela raised her eyebrows. “What did you have in mind instead?”
Bonnie started walking toward Jennette, tossing a mischievous grin over her shoulder at Caela. “I have an idea. If you wanna get some of that anger out.”
Twenty minutes later, Caela was parked outside the trailer Bonnie shared with her mother, watching as her only friend jogged back to the passenger’s side holding a bundle cradled in her arms. Caela reached over and popped the door for her so that she could climb inside.
“Take this,” she said, tossing Caela a black hoodie. “And put the hood up. School’s got security cameras. They ain’t good ones, but they got them.”
“Security cameras?” Caela asked as she pulled on the hoodie. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing.”
Bonnie grinned and held up two cans of spray paint. “We’re gonna tell everyone what kind of hole of misery that school really is.”
Caela stared at the cans. A sudden sense of nostalgia and loss weighed heavy on her chest. “You want to graffiti the school?”
“Yeah. Obviously. Now go, before Mom wakes up and sees us out here.”
Caela drove the five minutes to the high school, parking Jennette half a mile down the road, on the other side of a cornfield.
Memories of sneaking down back alleys to watch the creation of colorful paintings on brick walls poured like waterfalls into her mind as they walked toward the school’s parking lot.
“You gotta know I love you, Cae,” Bonnie said as she pulled the hood up on her own hoodie. “Because I never thought anyone would be able to get me to come back here.”
Caela was embarrassed to feel the sting of tears in her eyes at these words.
It was the first time anyone had told her they loved her since the funeral, and even in this casual way, it nearly bowled her over with emotion.
She swallowed it back, though, because she knew Bonnie would roll her eyes or poke fun at her if she saw that Caela was on the verge of crying.
They approached the brick wall on the north side of the gym, their way lit only by the pale orange streetlight on the far end of the parking lot. Despite the autumn chill, Caela could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead and at the base of her neck.
“Thought about what kinda art you wanna decorate this cesspit with?” Bonnie asked as she began to shake her spray can.
“I’m … not sure.”
Bonnie must’ve heard the way Caela’s voice trembled, because she turned to look at her then. Caela couldn’t see her eyes beneath her hood, but she could feel the prickle of judgment. “You chickening out on me?” she asked.
“No. I just … I’m not sure about this.”
“I thought you said you’ve tagged places before?”
“Not me. My friend.”
She missed Grady. She’d tried to push it down and ignore it in the wake of their growing distance, but she missed him.
She missed his stupid backward hat and that jersey he always wore.
She missed watching her dad give him art lessons.
She missed how much color—literally and figuratively—he brought into her life.
“He was an actual artist,” she explained. “Like, really good. I just went along to watch. I never actually did any of the painting.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“I guess. But …” Caela looked down at the can in her hand. “If my mother finds out—”
“She won’t,” Bonnie said. “Unless you tell her. And I assume you ain’t gonna do that.”
“Of course not.”
“So what’s the issue?” she asked. “This place sucks. The people here suck. They’ve treated you like crap. The administration won’t do anything about it. Your parents already act like you’re a criminal—”
Right on cue, Caela’s phone began to buzz in her back pocket. It was almost certainly her mother calling to demand to know where she was and why she was late for curfew.
“You deserve to get some revenge,” Bonnie said. “No one’s getting hurt. Actually, you can even say it’s like a warning. Let the other kids know how much this place blows. Do everyone a favor.”
Caela snorted. She knew that was a stretch.
Bonnie sighed. “Look, don’t waste my time,” she said. “I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you a chance to get some of that anger out, but if you’re gonna flake on me, let’s just go.”
The disappointment in her voice stung. Caela could almost picture the expression on Bonnie’s face, lip curled in something halfway between a snarl and a frown, nose wrinkled, eyes rolling with annoyance.
Their friendship was still so new, so fresh, Caela felt like she was constantly walking on a tightrope, worried one wrong step would send her toppling back into the void of solitude.
That Bonnie, her only friend, would leave her.
She glanced around at the silent, empty parking lot.
She wasn’t sure where the security cameras Bonnie had mentioned were, but it was hard to imagine they’d have a good view out here, in this near darkness, especially with their faces covered.
Her mother was already going to be furious with her for being late. She might as well make it worth it.
“Cae?” Bonnie clucked her tongue. “Hello? What’re we doing?”
Caela let out a breath and marched forward, shaking her spray paint can one more time before pointing the nozzle at the brick wall. “I’ll do the honors.”
“Heck yeah. That’s my girl.”
She didn’t feel any shame about the series of curse words she painted on the side of the gym. Especially not when Bonnie hugged her and told her how cool she was once they were done.
She didn’t feel any shame when her mother and Rob yelled at her for coming home late, grounding her for a month and accusing her of every bad behavior under the sun, most far worse, in Caela’s opinion, than a little vandalism.
She didn’t feel shame the next morning, when the principal made an announcement about the graffiti and promised that if the perpetrators were caught, they’d be facing suspension.
No. Caela only felt shame that afternoon as she walked out of the building and saw the old janitor with her power washer, trying desperately to clean up the series of swears and a crudely painted middle finger on the brick wall.
She didn’t know the woman’s name, but she knew that the janitor had never wronged her.
And Caela’s actions had made her afternoon much harder.
Of course they had, Caela thought. Had she really believed any of those jerks from her class or the guidance counselor would have to deal with the graffiti?
Still, she forced that spark of guilt away and told herself it was worth it. Not because she’d pissed off her mother or gotten any sort of vengeance on the school or its students. But because she had impressed Bonnie. She’d held on to her only friend.