Page 20 of Toxic Wishes

I look around in confusion. “I thought you may want to walk to class together.” I plaster on a smile, and he remains emotionless. His eyes seem glossed over, and I can't tell if he is high or not. Lately, he hasn’t been joining me at lunch outside as often. He’s grown massively over the past year and is becoming everything he said he hated, a football player.

“Ya, sure. But it’s probably best we never do this again.” He started walking, and I almost had to jog to keep up.

“Why? We’re friends, Blake. It’s not like we are sleeping together, so don’t worry. Being seen with me won’t make you look like you go slumming since I’m not one of your cheerleader bunnies with bleach-blonde hair.” The taste of bitterness lines my lips. I never got this mad this quick, but it had to be the Scorpio in me. The inevitable toxins flowed through my veins because I was tired of his distant demeanor towards me at school. He can’t just make out with me one minute and then act like I don’t even exist the next. And not just make out. We were practically fucking with our mouths towards the end. That’s how heated things got between us.

He stops abruptly, almost causing me to topple over him. “Abs, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. It won’t make a difference if people see me with you, but it will make one if they see you with me.”

I squint my eyes at him and try to understand what he’s trying to say.

“Believe me, sweat heart,”

My heart nearly stops. It’s been a while since he called me that and I didn’t realize how much I missed hearing it from his lips.

“Those guys will eat you up and tear you apart. You may be toxic and think you’re a badass, but the kids that hang around me are deathly. Your venom is sweet. They will make sure to make you feel uncomfortable. And I know we don’t talk about our-” he hesitates. “Addictions, but we both know we aren’t doing as good as we both proclaim.”

He starts to walk off, and my pride tells me to stop, but I keep going like the idiot I am.

“Then talk to me. Open up. It’s what brought us together.”

“Our fucked-up ways of coping with life is what brought us together, Abs, not fate. Don’t let that zodiac garbage fog your thinking.”

I hear a few girls snicker behind me. And I have to hold back a tear.

“Now, let's get to class.” He says under his breath as he walks off.

I stood rooted to the ground as people passed me by. And I stared at the back of Blake's head until I didn’t see it anymore. I felt a warm breath hit my ear, causing me to flinch. I see Toby in my peripheral vision since he’s so close to me, but I couldn’t see his entire face.

“Why didn’t you say you liked your dicks the way you liked your men, Abigail? Or maybe you liked your dicks to resemble the way you look right now. Pathetic and disgusting.” Toby and his friends walk off, laughing lightly, and one of them looks back at me before going to class.

Don’t cry, Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Toby is just pissed you blew him off. When the halls started to clear, I decided to do something I never thought I would do. I skip class and run to the bathroom so no one will see me shed a single tear until my mom comes to pick me up.

I waited for a text to arrive at 11:11 that night, but it never did. It was the first time he had forgotten to make a wish. I didn’t know if he had forgotten or was doing it on purpose, but after today, I assumed it was on purpose. It was the first night in a long time I had cried myself to sleep.

“Music is a weapon in the war against unhappiness.” — Jason Mraz

10

Abigail

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”-Victor Hugo

When Blake ghosted me this time, it wasn’t as hard to deal with since we weren't hanging out twice a week. Now, he hung out with the rich kids who drove expensive cars and wore the latest trends on their bodies and feet. By the way, a teenager driving a costly car was hilarious. Seeing an older man driving an expensive car is one thing, but it gives you a sour taste when you see a stuck-up teenager in one. The rotten apple always got what their little black, spoiled hearts desired.

Over this course of time of no talking or exchanging any communication, I realized the only thing Blake and I shared was music and our addictions until he kissed me in the car four days ago. I went through all the emotions of why, and then I thought about all the feelings he must have felt, which led me to believe he regretted ever kissing me at all. My mind told me that, but my gut told me otherwise. I’m not the clingy, codependent type, but I reached out to him yesterday. The silence won the better part of my judgment, and according to Adalee, once you cave in, it doesn’t matter how many texts or calls you send after that initial first text or call. She compared it to the first pee that you let go of when you were drunk. It was all downhill from there, and you won’t be able to stop the more you drank: it was an odd analogy and one I barely understood since I’ve never drank in my life, but I took her word for it. And without overthinking it, I sent him another text.

Call me. I know you see my texts. I just want to know you’re okay.

I put my phone down and continued spreading peanut butter on the celery sticks. The buttery scent reminded me of the cookies Blake brought me at lunch. The ooey-gooey-ness would melt in my mouth. I missed the Blake that was thoughtful and not only brought me sweets but was sweet. My hands were so shaky that the knife fell to the floor. I cursed out loud, picked it up, and threw it in the sink.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Adalee says as she walks into the kitchen, heading straight to the refrigerator. We barely talked anymore since she was in college now, and she and Ahmad spent every spare minute together.

“Ya, I’m fine.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” she says as she plops on the bar stool in front of the island.

“Who?” I say, trying to act nonchalant about the whole situation

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