Chapter Sixteen
Emotional Snowstorm
Snow
falling on a frigid winter day.
The flakes whisper
the truth as they move past me.
I open my mouth
and catch the pain
on my tongue.
^^^
The thing about a snowstorm while living on campus is there isn’t an excuse to miss class. Students can put on their boots and trek their way to each building. However, when the storm is so bad that teachers can’t make it in, that makes for a good reason to just hang out. After passing all my exams with flying colors, I deserve another day to relax before classes start again. They were supposed to start today, but it looks like they’ll be tomorrow now.
I’m expecting Jesse later. His computer club called a special meeting for something. My writing club has been going well, and I have been receiving some constructive criticism on my poems even though I am the only poet in the group. We don’t meet again now until next week, having taken all of December off and not starting back up until classes do.
Olivia sits on her bed playing on her iPad. I think she’s on Snapchat or something, doing silly things with her friends. Since we’re attempting to get along it makes being in the room much easier when we have to be here together. Even though I’m helping plan the Valentine’s party, I still feel a disconnect between us. I’ll keep trying, though. I’ll also try to accept that maybe she didn’t orchestrate the website thing and the shaving cream and wait for Jesse to get to the bottom of it.
“Having fun over there?” She’s making duck faces and laughing pretty hard.
“Yeah. My friend Lissy is such a goofball.” She sticks her tongue out and takes a picture. “I’ll add a flowery frame. Boom.”
Facebook is about as far as I go on social media, and after what happened with Janna, I’ve barely been on there. I don’t even remember my password at this point. It’s best to avoid some of the social aspects if I’m going to make it through college.
“You should get this. Instead of sitting there and reading like a nerd.”
I don’t know if the label stings. Am I a nerd? Perhaps. But when people like Olivia use it, they use it in a derogatory way. I need to remember that she and I are trying to be friends now. She’s not saying it to be mean. She’s kidding around. Yeah. That’s it. She’s kidding around.
“I’ve never used that app before.”
“Hand me your phone. I’ll download it for you.”
I hesitate for a moment, but reach across and hand it to her. She hits a few buttons and hands it back to me. “Sign up for an account and then add me.”
I click through a bunch of verification screens, adding in my birthday, allowing access to my microphone and photos, and I’m staring back at myself on the screen. That big nose, the redness in my cheeks, the hairs that no matter how hard I try always stick between my eyebrows. Unibrow has been the one nickname that never quite made it to me though now that I’m staring at myself close up in my phone, I wonder how I dodged that one.
I get a notification. It’s from Olivia, which makes sense since she’s the only person who knows I am on here right now. She’s sent me a picture with a rainbow for a tongue. I wonder if that’s what she was doing before. Do I reply with something similar? I search through the filters and find one with bunny ears and a nose which distorts my face as well. I raise my eyebrows and out of nowhere my lashes go on for days. I take the picture and click the timer. “What’s this for?”
“Oh, it’s so the picture only stays for that amount of time. So if you click an eight, it disappears after eight seconds.”
Interesting. So I can send something and it will disappear forever after a certain amount of time? Cool. I send it off to her. I don’t really know the point of this whole thing, but maybe I’ll catch onto it.
Someone knocks at the door, and I toss my phone aside and race to answer it.
“Expecting my brother?”
“Ah, actually I am,” I tell her. Not this soon though. He’s not supposed to be here for at least another hour.
I swing the door open and gasp. Standing in front of me is none other than Janna.
It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her. I contemplated calling her a few times after her Facebook Live stunt, but didn’t. I haven’t seen her around campus. I don’t even know if she’s still a student here at this point. I figure she’s either been avoiding me, or she’s expelled. One way or the other, it’s not like she couldn’t have tried to contact me.
“May I help you?” I don’t know the proper way to greet her. Inside, I want to reach for her and pull her into a gigantic hug. That’s what feels right. But even if it feels like the right thing to do, I don’t do it. I stand there, my heart beating so hard against my chest I think it may explode at any moment. I think of that video, her accusing me of being a horrible friend, when I, in fact, think I’ve been the opposite.
“I miss you.”
I want to tell her I miss her. I want to so badly. I give in too easily, though. Telling her I miss her is the same as saying I forgive her, or like I’m apologizing to her. I don’t say anything, only raise my eyebrows.
“Come on, Violet, don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“So cold and unforgiving.”
I don’t realize that is how I am being. “You basically fell off this Earth for over a month after you called me a bad friend for the whole world to see, and I’m supposed to welcome you back with open arms? No. It doesn’t work that way. Maybe I overstepped my boundaries but I’m sorry if I don’t want my best friend to mess up her life.”
“You think I’m your best friend?” A tear rolls down her cheek as a small smile spreads across her face.
“I did. Now I don’t know what to think. Do you even still go to school here? And what about Paul? Where’s your over age pervert buddy?”
“I’m not friends with him anymore.”
“You mean you’re not fucking him anymore or getting high with him?” I can’t believe I said it, but I can’t take it back now. And I shouldn’t. She needs to hear this.
“Vi, that’s not fair.”
“You don’t get to decide how I feel or what I’m thinking. I just…I can’t even look at you right now.”
“What are you saying?”
“I think she’s saying to get the hell out.” Olivia jumps to my defense in a surprise turn of events.
Janna turns her head toward Olivia, a small O forming on her lips. “Wait. What’s going on here? Are you two like, friends now?”
She looks me in the eye and I raise my shoulders into a shrug. I don’t have to answer that. And I won’t because I don’t even know how much of a friend I consider Olivia, but right now, I think she’s a better friend than Janna.
“I'm not sure where we stand right now, Janna. You let Paul take precedence over our friendship. I wish you could see what I see in you instead of drowning yourself in alcohol and drugs. I really do.”
“But not today.” Olivia steps in front of me and gives Janna a big wave as she shuts the door in her face.
“What are you doing? That's rude.” I’d never do such a thing. I'm tempted to race after her but don’t out of fear of how Olivia would react. Should I care what she thinks? No. I know I shouldn't. But that's the thing about being a doormat all your life. You never really stop being one. You can't suddenly become the door or the person standing on the mat. You’re forever the stomping ground, never being able to think for yourself.
“Look.” She takes me by my hands and leads me to the bed. I sit down next to her. She sighs. “You can't let someone like Janna decide when and if you’re friends again. I didn't hear an apology there, did you? You've got me now. You don't need her.”
I'm uncertain how to respond to her. I kind of feel like I do need her. She's my person, like Cristina and Meredith on Grey’s Anatomy.
But my person never would have turned her back on me like Janna did.
“You're absolutely right.” I clap my hands together as though I'm saying good riddance to this part of my life and hello to a new one.
One that includes the popular girl. And I may finally be a part of that crowd.
“While I adore Adeline, I don’t think she’d react like this. She’s stronger than how you’re portraying her. She survived the end of the world, has a group of people following her lead, and witnessed her family dying right in front of her. I think she’d stand up to Rufus.” My critiquing has been much more helpful after a few months in the club. Karen’s book is so amazing. I’m not normally a science-fiction reader, but after reading her book, I’m starting.
She scribbles my notes down, nodding her head as she does so. David and Erica agree with me, bringing me much needed confirmation I belong here. Our discussion doesn’t go much beyond our writing, eliminating the desire to fit in, even though I’m welcomed here more than any place in my life. Hands down.
“Thanks, Violet. You’re right. She would stand up to Rufus, and she should. I’ll change this, and that will create a rift between them. I can use that.”
I blow out a breath, relieved that she’s accepted my notes. It’s difficult to criticize a book I love so much.
“Violet, what are you working on? You haven’t shared anything with us yet.”
David’s right. I’ve been coming here every week but keeping my poems close to my heart. I don’t want them to tell me they’re bad, to rip them apart and make suggestions. My poems make me me. They’re my most intimate thoughts. The stories they write, their fiction, made up. Not my stuff. It’s all my truth. And I don’t want them to destroy my truth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“Not ready? What’s the point of being here then?” Erica has come out of her shell since I’ve been in the group. She seemed so shy that first day I met her, barely making eye contact or anything. She talks quite a lot once you get to know her.
“I…I’m scared I guess. My teacher wants me to submit a poem to this annual poetry contest. The deadline is in about a week. I haven’t yet though.”
“You haven’t?” Karen slaps her pen on the table. “Why not? If your teacher recommended you enter, then you’d better. I’ve yet to have one of my professors recommend my work for anything and writing is my major! I can’t say for sure since you haven’t shown us anything, but you must have a lot of talent. Go for it.”
“Yeah. Go for it.” David pats me on the back.
I like how encouraging they are being, stroking my ego, trying to convince me. I’m not sure it’s for me, though. What if I win? What then? Do I have to stand in front of people and talk? And if I lose, does that mean I do suck? All my confidence has been a lie. Then I have nothing.
“Don’t think about it, Violet. Do it.”
“Yeah, do it.” Erica reiterates what Karen says.
If I do it, I know which poem I’ll enter. I’ve already decided which one displays my heart in its most vulnerable, with the most truth. But that’s the one that’s most private to me, that I’ve never shown anyone.
“Violet,” Karen folds her hands in front of her. “You’ve got talent, or you wouldn’t be here. Don’t be so afraid. Part of being a writer is putting your vulnerable moments out there. Don’t let your poems stay in your notebooks. Let them breathe. Give them life. And you, you need to live, too.”
I listen to what she’s saying, what she’s really saying, and I know she’s right. I’m responsible for my own destiny. I create my own future, and I can choose to put the past behind me and live in the now. It’s time I take risks and be the person I’ve always aspired to be.
Now is my time.