Chapter Thirteen
Liar
Years of searching
for people like myself
and always
I came up empty.
Finally I’ve found
a place to be myself
and truly be accepted
as me.
Still I don’t believe it.
The truth will fold into itself
and prove a lie.
^^^
I knock on the door before turning the knob and entering. The counselor in the office said the writing club meets in Thurber Hall, Room 205. “They’re actually meeting in about five minutes. Head over now,” she told me.
I didn’t expect to be thrown into the situation right away, but I can’t argue that that can be a good thing in my position. I open the door, and when I step through, I expect to see ten or twelve people gathered at a long table. Instead, three people sit in a small circle of desks.
As they gawk at me, I almost tell them I’m in the wrong room and leave. They won’t know the difference. Why am I so afraid of this? I want to do this. Why else would I be here? This is my chance to be a part of something. They may not accept me, or I might make a fool of myself, but that’s the name of the game.
I stand there, these people looking back at me in confusion. How long have I been standing here? My head is light, static like an untuned radio station the only soundtrack in the room, and it’s directly in my ears.
“May I help you?” A slinky girl with glasses stands up, her frizzy hair demanding attention.
“Oh!” I must have been standing there for too long. “I’m Violet. I want to join your club.” God, I sound like a kid asking for access into a treehouse with a sign that says, “No dorks allowed.” I’m part of a Judy Blume book.
“Welcome, Violet!” Glasses girl approaches me and shakes my hand. “I’m Karen. This is David and Erica.” She points to a man who reminds me of Jon Snow with his wild hair, and to a girl who seems about as shy as me as she lowers her head and waves.
“Hi, everyone. It’s nice to meet you.” I wave at them and take a hold of my right elbow with my left arm. Even though I’m in my element, I’m transported back to high school and every awkward moment I’ve had. The room is closing in on me, and I can hear my heart beating between my ears. Does this mean I’m in? Am I part of the group? Just like that? What next?
“Welcome! Have a seat!” Karen slides a desk over and my rush of anxiety turns into relief. Her personality is already so inviting I can’t help but feel comfortable with her. I sit down, sliding my chair in and waiting for direction.
“What do you write, Violet?” Karen must be the leader of the club. She comes across as the strong one of the group.
“Um, poetry.” I admit this in a whisper. I love writing my poems, and I’m good at it, but poetry is something people don’t often admit to reading, much less writing. When people think of poetry, Shakespeare comes to mind, who I’m not, never have been, and never will be, or of someone like Shel Silverstein who writes poetry for children.
“We have a poet amongst us!” David startles me as he announces to the group in a deep, demanding voice. “So glad to have you here. We meet every Tuesday and Thursday at two right in this room. Always bring a notebook and a laptop.”
“Oh.” I stare down at my empty desktop. “Sorry. The counselor told me to come right over. I didn’t even stop back at my dorm.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Karen says as she tears a sheet of paper from a notebook and rolls a pen over. “We’re doing more critiquing here today than anything.”
“So, are any of you published?”
“Only Erica.” I glance over at Erica. Her head is still slightly bowed, and her eye contact is so fast I almost miss it.
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“A short story in a magazine. It’s not a big deal.”
I understand her hesitancy to discuss it. While I love writing my poems and hope to be published one day, it’s scary putting yourself out there and being so vulnerable to the world. Everyone, strangers, are out there to judge your every word. Why do writers put themselves through so much open criticism? We love the written word, expressing ourselves on paper, creating different worlds for people to explore—and us to escape to—that’s why.
“What are you critiquing today?” I’m not confident I can offer any criticism, or if I want to on my first day here. What if I have nothing to say? Or too much? What if I don’t like what I’m reading and I don’t critique correctly? I don’t want to insult the people who just welcomed me into their group.
“Chapters six through eight of my science fiction novel.” Karen beams with pride over this announcement.
“Wow. Science Fiction.” I don’t read a lot of sci-fi, but I know for sure I couldn’t write it. My mind isn’t creative enough to create an entire universe, especially anything that involves technology.
“I don’t have an extra copy, but you can share mine.” I scoot over closer to Karen and skim through the first page. She’s super talented in her genre. I’m excited to be here.
I’ve found my people.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Janna. She’s unresponsive to my texts and calls, and when I stop at her dorm room, her roommate says she hasn’t seen her. Where can she be? What if something has happened to her? Or is it me? Is she upset with me for something? I have no idea what I could have done. I had a great time on the bus, and I thought that was what she wanted. We didn’t have any sort of disagreement. In fact, we barely saw each other. But she was with Paul while I hung out with Jesse. That’s the last time I saw her.
I’m on a mission to find her. The only other person I can think of who may have any clue where she is is Paul. And I don’t know too much about him, either.
“Jesse, what if something is wrong? Do you know how to get in contact with Paul?”
“I don’t have his number or anything. I see him when he comes on campus from time to time. I may be able to find someone who knows him.”
We’ve gone public with our relationship, hanging out in the quad every free moment we have when we’re not in his dorm. We avoid going to my dorm because of his sister. I don’t want to deal with her, and I know they don’t always get along as it is.
He takes out his cell phone and scrolls through his contacts. “I can try my buddy, Nick. He may know someone who knows someone.” He sends a quick text and then pulls me onto his lap. “Just give him a second to respond.”
I’m enjoying the music playing over the loud speaker, as are a few others who are dancing in the corner. I move my head back and forth as I watch the ping pong game being played in front of us. The match up is a good one, and this game has been going on for a while.
“My bet is on the guy in the yellow shirt.” We’ve been trying to guess each game who will win.
“Hm.” He sighs. “He has been on quite the winning streak. I’m rooting for the other guy. Everyone loves an underdog.”
Maybe that’s why he likes me so much. I think I consider myself an underdog. Years of being at the bottom of the barrel and now I have friends, a boyfriend, and I belong to a club. Sure. It’s a mere four people with me, but it’s still a club. We’re not a sorority or a championship softball team, but we still love what we do.
His phone dings, and I almost grab it. I need to know what this Nick guy says.
“Okay, I have Paul’s address.”
I jump out of his arms. “Let’s go.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. I’m not waiting another minute to find out where Janna is. If she’s in trouble, I need to go to her. You can drive.”
He stands up and salutes me. “Aye Aye, Captain.”
“Stop it,” I tease as I playfully punch him in the arm. “Let’s go.” I take a hold of his hand as we race through the quad to the parking lot. He stops at a bright red Camaro and opens the door for me.
“This is your car?”
“Yeah. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know, but not this. It’s…”
“I know. My foster parents bought it for me.” He waves toward the front seat. “Get in.”
I slide into the seat and buckle in. “How far away does he live?” I ask when he’s in the car.
“Not far. Ten minutes, maybe. How did she meet Paul, anyway? He doesn’t even go to school here. Or anywhere.”
Now that he mentions it, I have no clue. She never discussed it with me. And I never bothered to ask. I guess it’s something you don’t think about, asking how someone met someone. “How old is he?”
Jesse shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five! What does an eighteen-year-old have in common with a twenty-five-year-old?”
“Well, from my knowledge of Paul, I’d have to say drugs and alcohol.”
I hate he says that. Is he passing judgment on Janna? I know she drinks, and she’s done drugs. I’m not sure exactly what she’s done or how long she’s done them for, and I don’t necessarily agree with her for doing them, but she’s accepted me. I enjoy her company. She has my back. I’ve searched for someone like her to come into my life. I’ve hoped for the day a true friend would be at my side at some point, and finally, it’s happened.
But how much can I call her a friend if she won’t return my texts or calls? Would a friend abandon me like that? Am I wrong to want to find her? Should I say forget it and head back to the quad with Jesse?
No. I can’t do that. I know she’d do the same for me. If I disappeared, she’d want to find me and figure out what was going on. She needs me. I can feel it.
We’re silent the rest of the ride to Paul’s house. When we reach his house, I practically fly out of the car and ring the doorbell, knocking on the door at the same time as loud as I can.
“Paul! Are you in there? It’s Violet, Janna’s friend.” I slam my fist harder into the door. “Paul!”
The door clicks open and Paul stands behind it in a sea of smoke, his eyes bloodshot, and a skunk-like smell overwhelming the house. “Hey, Violet, what’s up?”
“What’s up? I haven’t talked to Janna in two weeks. Have you seen her?”
He opens the door and points to the couch. Janna appears to be asleep, her legs swung over the arm of the couch, her mouth open wide, drool pooling on her shirt.
I bust past Paul, racing to Janna’s side. “Janna.” She doesn’t budge when I shake her. “Janna, get up!”
She groans when I shake her harder, but she opens her eyes. “Hey, Violet, what’s up?” She repeats Paul’s greeting. She’s mellow, unaware of the fact that it’s been so long since we’ve spoken.
“What is wrong with you? Have you even been in school these past two weeks?” I look over my shoulder at Paul, who is still standing in the doorway smoking his joint. “Why hasn’t she been answering my texts?”
“Oh, yeah. We went off the grid.”
“What does that mean?”
“We turned off our phones. We vegged out, smoked some weed, drank a bit, binge-watched Orange Is The New Black, Gotham, and some chick show, Gilmore Women, or Gilmore Fucking Hot Mom and Daughter, some shit like that. Man, Gotham is fucked up when you’re fucked up. What day is it?”
“What day is it? It’s November fourteenth!”
“Do I have class?” She looks up at Paul and giggles. “Did I say class or ass? Ass. That’s so funny.”
“Snap out of it. You’re coming with me, Janna.”
“No.”
“What? You can’t stay here. Paul is like seven or eight years older than you. You shouldn’t be here.” I go to take her hand but she shoves me away.
“Get the fuck off of me.”
She’s staring through me like I’m a stranger. Those brown eyes I trust so much now reddened and tired. What happened a few weeks ago to send her on this binge? “I want to help you.”
“I don’t need your damn help. Why don’t you and your little boy toy leave me and Paul the hell alone?” Her gritted jaw almost scares me. Is she going to hit me?
I back off and when I reach Jesse, he takes my hand. “Let’s go.” He tightens his hold on me.
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“I know. But sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes.”
“If she’s missed this much school, they may kick her out.”
“That’s not your problem.”
Jesse means well, but it doesn’t make me feel better. In fact, it makes me feel worse. I take a long, hard look at Paul. I don’t know if he can even hear me, but I talk anyway.
“Janna is a great person. You did this. You pulled her into this, you…you pervert.” Yeah, I call him a pervert because he is. He’s taking advantage of Janna knowing that because he’s older, she’ll look up to him. She should have run the first time she met him, which I want to know the story behind that now.
“You can leave now.” His voice is stern, the complete opposite of him only moments ago. My rant may have killed his buzz. Good. I’m happy if it did. And I hope it kills Janna’s, too, and she realizes how stupid this is, what a mistake she’s making. She needs to wake up and choose a different path before she regrets it.
Jesse holds my hand, tight, as we head back to his car. I don’t want to be alone. I need to write. The urge is pulling at me. But I want him beside me, comforting me. I’m scared. So very scared.
I don’t want to lose her. I can’t.
But I’m pretty sure I already have.
"I don't get it. How can she say all that? I thought we were friends." The world passes by at a snail’s pace on our drive back to campus. I stare out the window, my head resting against the cold glass, allowing the movement to make me dizzy.
"She's not thinking straight. She'll come to her senses."
That's an easy thing to say. He only wants to comfort me, which I appreciate, but let's be realistic here. She's caught up in whatever life Paul is selling her. "What if she doesn't? What if she never comes to her senses?"
"She will."
"But what if she doesn't?" I turn my head so fast I pull a muscle in my neck. I've never raised my voice to Jesse before. I've never raised my voice much at all, now that I think about it. Fear will make you do things you never thought you would.
"Vi, sweetie, she will. Trust me." He says this calmly as he reaches over and puts his hand on my knee.
I grunt internally and take my phone out. I open Facebook, hoping a check to my timeline may cheer me up. I picked up my activity on there since I’ve been at college. I only have a handful of friends, but a decent amount of family. My cousin rescued a kitten, my other cousin shared her unicorn name, while my Aunt Fiona had an awful date.
A notification pops up on my screen. Janna has started a live video. I click the box and her face fills my screen, tired and worn, and she's obviously high. The screen is bouncing around, and the constant motion is making me sick to my stomach. She can't hold the phone still no matter how hard she tries. She's giggling like a school girl, and Paul pops up on the screen every now and again.
"Pull over."
"Why?"
"Just pull over." I wait as he does so. "Look at this."
I turn the phone so he can see the disaster unfolding live in front of anyone watching.
"Hey, Facebook!" She waves to the screen. "I have a few viewers. Awesome. Welcome to Jamming with Janna. That sounds like a good name, right? Do you like it Paul?" She looks off screen, no doubt at Paul. "I like it," she says as she connects with the audience again. Paul isn't sure if he likes it, I guess.
"Paul is being a butthole," she says. Real classy, Janna. "We smoked some awesome shit and we're just sitting here on his couch looking for something to do. I thought maybe I'd talk to you motherfuckers."
Her language on screen startles me. It's not as though I'm one hundred percent innocent. I’ve sworn before, and I’m sure I’ll swear again, but this is live, a public post, for anyone and everyone to see. How can she not realize that?
"Look, look, look, look, look," she holds her hand in front of the camera, repeating herself. "I get that my friend Violet is perfect."
Oh no. She's talking about me. Why does she think this is okay?
"Violet. Shit, even that name is perfect. A beautiful flower, right? Well, no. She's bloomed and has a scholarship and gets good grades and shit. She's dating Jesse Fucking Fisher y'all. Jesse Fisher! I'm pretty sure she thinks that puts her on some high pedestal to judge me. Judge ME! Well," she stops long enough to burp on screen. "Violet." She drags my name out. “Viiiiioooolllleeeeetttttt….I’m here to tell you you're living in a fantasy land. Life isn't all grand. Oh, poor baby, some kids weren't so nice to you when you were in school. I'll tell you what. Some people have been through a lot more shit than you. Some of us grew up in houses where their dad wasn't around, screwing everything that lived, and their mom struggled to make ends meet, taking up sugar daddies just to buy her daughter clothes for school. Well, whoopty doo, look at you.“ Her eyes push together as she laughs. “That rhymes. I should be a poet like you.”
By this time I'm crying as I watch her break down in front of everyone. She has sixteen viewers and a few comments I can't even read because my eyes are blocked with tears. I want to take her into my arms in a huge embrace, tell her everything will be okay and forgive her for the things she's said. I want her to put herself out of this misery and end the live video.
Paul comes on-screen and puts his lips on hers in front of us. I want to throw up. I dislike this man. A lot. When I first met him, and the time after that, I thought he was okay. Now I realize he's enabling this behavior, encouraging it even.
"This lady and I, we're going to rule the world." He passes his joint to Janna, who has also started drinking a beer. Now she's advertising her underage drinking.
I can't stop shaking my head. She's destroying herself, her reputation. Doesn't she give the least bit of a damn what people think?
"Peace out, fuckers!" Janna gives a peace sign to the crowd before stopping the video. Seconds later I receive a notification that she's tagged me in the video.
Should I delete the tag? My name will still be attached to it either way. No. I don’t have a lot of friends on there, anyway. What difference will it make? ”What’s wrong with her?" I can't think straight trying to figure out what she's doing.
"I don't know, Violet. Clearly she's dealing with some issues."
"Why didn't she talk with me about it? Why is she doing this kind of stuff?"
"I wish I had an answer for you." He reaches across and slides his arm behind my back and then places his hand on my neck and gives it a good massage.
"We should get back to campus." I need a distraction. I'm so mad, hurt, sad.
It's then my phone rings. My mom. I didn’t think about her. She must have seen the tag already on Facebook.
I can't handle this right now so I click ignore.
I fall asleep in Jesse’s arms that day, lying across his lap in the quad. He plays with my hair until I doze off. When I wake, I open my eyes to him looking right at me. I have to get back to the dorm, even though I don’t want to leave his side.
I arrive in my room and find I am not alone as I hoped I would be. Olivia sits on her bed, her ex-boyfriend Alex sitting beside her. They appear to be studying, and by the small distance between them, I think it’s safe to assume they are back together.
“I can’t believe finals are already starting tomorrow and we’re at the end of the semester.” I don’t have the energy not to be nice and ignore her. After what happened with Janna, I really want to try now. “I have a full day of exams tomorrow.” As I say it I realize I should have been studying instead of trying to rescue someone who doesn’t want saving.
“Good for you.” Olivia rolls her eyes and focuses back on her book.
“Be nice, Liv.” Alex comes to my defense and shows more balls than I saw on him the first time we met.
“Whatever.” Olivia leaves it at that. She doesn’t challenge, or belittle, him like she did the first day of school. I’m not sure if this is a shift of power between them or it may be there still a little tension between them. “Your friend sure ripped you apart on social media.”
I wonder how many people saw the video, and if they are seeing me as a bad person or someone trying to help her friend. I want Janna to succeed. She loves her art work. She’s great at it. At the rate she’s going though, she’ll fail out of school and her future will be dim.
She shuts her book and walks over to me, slamming her hand on my book. “Did you hear what I said?”
Bubbles form inside my stomach, and my eyes don’t leave my textbook, now focused on her perfect manicure. “Yes, I heard you. What do you want me to say?”
“She said some interesting things. Are you dating my brother again?”
“I’m surprised you’re just finding out. We’ve been back together for a few weeks.” There’s no need to lie to her. I’m shocked she doesn’t know already, and she’d find out eventually.
She slams my book shut, smashing my pencil in between the pages. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not the ones dating, then.” Sarcasm escapes me without me realizing who I’m saying it to. I don’t know where my bravery came from. Perhaps my confrontation with Janna opened a new side of me.
I can hear her breathing, and she’s taking quick, short breaths. I don’t want to look at her. If I do, I may lose any courage I have at this point.
“Olivia, come back over here. We really should get back to studying.”
Olivia ducks down to my level. Out of my peripheral vision I can see her, but I avoid eye contact. She opens her mouth and lets the quiet air linger between us for a moment like a threat. “I don’t like it one bit. Don’t you dare do anything to hurt him.”
Her concern over her brother’s heart confuses me. If she’s so protective of him, then why not allow him to be happy? Why try so hard to destroy me and keep us apart?
“I have no intention to do such a thing.” I would never to anything to hurt him intentionally. Ever.
“You better not.” I don’t like Olivia. I don’t know if I ever will. If I’m going to be with Jesse, though, the best thing to do is be nice to her, even if that means listening to her threats and accepting them at face value.