I Can't Save You From Yourself

The following morning, I followed my usual routine. Wait... Let me rephrase that, I tried to follow my usual routine.

I woke up this morning in a world of hurt. I had a crook in my neck and was stiff and sore all over, but I knew the worst of it awaited me in my reflection in the mirror. Oh fuck today is just going to be great.... Fucking peachy, really.

I grumbled when my mom called up the stairs. She, of course get Wednesday's off. So she's here to see me, bright and early this morning. The beauty I'd been last night at dinner because the bruises had yet to appear, would be gone. And the beast I'd become this morning with time for the blood to settle into some nice, purple blotches all over my face. Shit...

It stung like a bitch while I had to stand in the shower. The steamy water slowly untangling my frigid muscles, and I'd yet to force myself to think about who I'd encounter this morning. 

Billie, of course would not pick me up this morning. At least not as long as my mom was here. Which was fine because even though it has only been one day, I'm missing driving my minty green Plymouth. I got dressed in something I felt safe in, and did not show every contour of my less than desirable body.

A long white, cotton shirt dress that fell just above my knees over black, leather biker jeans I'd gotten from my aunt Casey last birthday. I'd turned 17 and currently still was 17. When I'm eighteen... Well I have no plan in hell of what I'm going to do. I mean I'm not like the Barbies who have every inch of their futures planned out. Though leave it be, my parents have probably already thought that far ahead of me and already know the job I'll have, where I'll live. Who my friends will be and where I'll go to collage and for what.

I feel locked up sometimes, like I have no freedom to make my own mistakes. No room to make them if I wanted to. Maybe that's why I haven't told Billie and the other pot heads to fuck off yet, because they are as close as I could ever possibly be to being free.

I grabbed my eyeliner pencil and mascara off the top of my dresser and walked back into the bathroom. Facing the mirror I took a deep breath and a shy look up, then gasped. I yanked open the vanity drawer and dug around until a found a bottle of foundation my mom had bought me a couple months ago but I'd never used because I never needed to. Hell, today seems like a good day to try it it out.

I dumped a big glob of the beige colored paste onto my palm and smeared it around evenly on my face. Taking extra time to give extra attention To the darker bruises to make sure they were evenly covered. I didn't look too horrible. Except for the bump on my left temple. I just pulled my hair down around my face in a protective curtain and made my way down stairs with my backpack slung over my shoulder. My mom was on the phone so she missed my exiting entirely.

hopping into my car, putting on my seat belt and starting the ignition, I was ready for another horrific day at school.



When I arrived at school, I parked a few spaces down from the familiar black Camero and saw the thin wafts of smoke drifting out the passenger and drivers side windows. I walked closer to get a better idea of the source, and sighed in disgust when I realized what they were doing. Billie and Mike sat there in a fit of giggles while reeking joints dangled from their hands. I waved briefly and started off for the school, shaking my head as I went.

After I'd shut my locker door, of course Conner Bradley was there. Smirking once again, without even meeting his eyes or hearing him out, I slugged him I the face. Taking note of the splint that was already in place on the bridge of his nose before I punched him. I kept walking away while he cried out in pain behind me, pulling my bag strap further up on my shoulder.

Mike must have broken his nose yesterday morning, then. Making him a weaker target for me. I'd have to thank him again sometime... Probably when he is pure of mind again. 

I walked into first hour Biology and sat down... alone at the desk. Our assignment today was to review the work we had done on our frog dissecting project we'd done on Monday. I reviewed it myself and the bell rang at noon. I headed to the cafeteria with my head bowed to avoid anyone seeing evidence of the bruises. Sure I'd love to scream to the school what their beloved jock had done. But it would only make me look weak for having let it happen in the first place. I sat down at my normal spot and dug my book out of my bag and started reading.

Within five minutes of being there alone, the clattering of trays settling around me got me to look up at my now crowded lunch table. The people that were present was Billie, Mike, the short, hyper kid and Jason Revla.

Though Billie and Mike didn't act like they were actually here, but more so hanging out of cloud nine with Mary-Jane. I smiled out of politeness at the boys around me and let my eyes flit down the the yellowed pages before me for something to do and something to keep me from staring. Now naturally that was what I did when I hung out alone. I'd watch the individual groups around the cafeteria shamelessly but now I'm brought down a few pegs because a couple foreign boys sat around me?

“I'm Tré.” declared the short boy with scruffy brown hair and a baggy, striped shirt and shorts on, and a pair of scuffed converse. He was the ultimate punk, and right now he looked pretty sober of alcohol and pot. Unlike Billie and Mike...

“H,i I'm Christie.” I smiled and we shook hands from across the table. His face lit up with the enjoyment of a secret joke.

“Sooo BeeJ. This is your girlfriend you've told me so much about?” Tré grinned cheekily at Billie while he blushed and turned his head away.

“What? No! I didn't say we were together I just said we hang out on occasion. Get that messed up little head of yours straight.” Billie ruffled Tré's hair to ease the embarrassment off of him. But after Tré's remark, I watched him very closely. He was hiding something...

The bell rang and I got up to go to history class like any other day. I put my book back into my bag and waved goodbye to my current table of friends. They waved back as I walked off for my last class of the day.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised or gotten my hopes up when Billie did not show up to class. Mike, either... I should have stuck with the thought that had been in my head since the first day of school. 'Once a pothead, always a pothead'.

I got out my text books when Mr. Varner walked into the room pushing a dinosaur of a TV on a fragile stand. He situated it in the north-east corner of the room and dug around in a cabinet of movies on the wall. While he had his back to us doing that, I saw the door creak open and a still giggly, stoned set of boys tip toed in and took their places before Varner turned around. I shot him a look for being so damn sneaky. If It'd been me, I probably would have gotten caught. 

Mr. Varner turned off the lights and a movie about the battle of Gettysburg started. I tried to pay attention because every couple minutes, Billie's hand would extend toward me in the dark. Balancing a perfect little white square of the tips of his fingers. I'd take it quickly before Mr. Varner saw and we both got into trouble. Throughout the entire movie we had passed out well over twenty notes to each other. Asking various things and jokes. Most of them being about how boring the movie was. I rolled my eyes playfully at him and wrote out my reply,

“Miss Webber. Are you passing notes in my class?” Mr, Varner spoke up.

“Oh no, sir. I'm taking notes.” I explained. He cocked an eyebrow at my unintentional pun.

“Let me see.” He instructed with narrowed eyes. I handed him the note I'd been in the progress of writing back to Billie about how boring the movie was.

‘The Gettysburg battle is absolutely—’ I hadn't finished writing it so he'll never know what it absolutely was. He read it over again then dropped the little square onto my desk and walked back over and sat down at his own. But he still watched me very closely. The one time Mr. Varner looked away, Billie's hand flashed out with a new note written in his boyish scrawl.

‘Nice one’

I smiled to myself and folded the note in half and slipping it into the side pocket on my backpack. 

The class had dragged on for another fifteen minutes and or course it hadn't gone by without close observation by Mr. Varner. When the bell rang, I did as I do everyday and gathered my things and put them back into my bag.

I stood in front of my locker, gathering my things so I could head home. I typically do look forward to the end of the day. Only to know there was nothing to do at home. My mind wandered a little bit to the things there are to do around Rodeo. And sadly, there isn't much. It's a refinery town, so of course there is nothing here. You'd believe the people who founded Rodeo would think about the fact that bored teens would be most likely to live in this town.

I packed up my stuff into my backpack and headed out to the parking lot where I almost had a stroke when I saw a tall dark figure leaning against my car...Then I realized it was just Billie.

“Hey Billie.” I say, trying to recall what emotion I'd had before being startled to death.

“Hey Pasalacqua.” he responded. I froze with my car key half jammed in the door lock. I turned to face him, a look of confusion on my face. “What?”

“I called you pask-a-lask-a.” he said. Spelling out each syllable since he clearly thought I was mental or something. I rolled my eyes and slugged his arm playfully.

“Soo...” he began. 

“What do you want?” I ask. Digging through my backpack.

“My car won't start.” he shrugged.

“And...?” I push him, noticing how at ease I was around him now. I didn't stutter as much.

“Can you give me a ride Pasalacqua?”

“I will if you stop calling me that.” I bargained. 

“Calling you what?” he asked innocently. Astonished that I was blaming him for something.

“You know exactly what.” I say seriously.

“Ohhh! Yeah, you mean Pasalacqua?” he grinned a goofy smile at my expression.

“Damn it, stop.” I say.

He nods once and salutes me “Yes ma'am. Also can Mike hitch a ride?” he begged.

“Doesn't Mike have a car?” I ask.

“I gave him a ride this morning.” he shrugged. 

“Where does he live?” I ask as I climb into the drivers seat, adjusting the angle that the chair rested at.

“He lives at my house, he's renting out a space in the garage.” he says. Turning around in time to wave Mike over, who was walking down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. I agreed to let them ride with me, but the second Billie tried to light a joint in my car, I snatched it and pitched it out the window and lectured him about being responsible. He rolled his eyes and shoved his lighter back into his jacket pocket with an irritated groan.

He complained a lot during the drive, so much that multiple times, I contemplated kicking him to the curb and leaving him. He whined about my music, which was the Beatles. A typical music love to me. He liked certain songs but we listened to the whole album while I maneuvered Rodeo for his house. And by the time he was fully addicted to the CD and requested to borrow it. Mike abandoned ship first when I parked in front of a big white house with a scant front lawn. A few flowers planted around the foundation but nothing else beside that. But in his backyard I could swear I saw a big tree and tree house... Of course, that could be in the neighbors yard.

I watched them wave then stalk off up the cracked concrete path to the door and disappearing inside. After that, I finally noticed the low rumbling sound of the idling engine— slapped myself back into reality and headed home under the encroaching storm clouds. 

There were multiple things I was concerned about with my increasing friendship to Billie. It was a rare thing if anyone could even tolerate his rough personality to be his friend in the first place. 
Then I'd reckon your pretty damn lucky... The other being, either I was just over-thinking it, or it was true. Billie was becoming kind to me, and if there was even a hint of a relationship there, I was running for the hills. Not because I was scared to like anybody, that wasn't the problem. The problem was, I didn't want to.

The ride home was quiet. With it only being me- I oddly felt very alone. Mom and dad both work late tonight, so I'd be on my own again. It was beginning to rain, giving my surroundings a fresh smear of color. I turned on the radio while I drove, to replace the presence of my Beatles CD, and listened to a Nirvana song, which melody I was familiar with.

In that very moment, I didn't know what would change in the next few weeks. Maybe I'd know what collage I was going to, maybe I'd have a job, or I'd make some friends. Maybe I'd have plans to move to New York after my school days were over...

Or maybe I'd do nothing at all, and I'd stay here and rot in Rodeo.