Page 119 of Scrimmage

From our place in the restaurant, there are wide windows facing the beach. They’re propped open, and a light breeze filters fresh air throughout the dining room. The waves run forward before being dragged back. A lot like me I guess. I think I make progress, and gravity always drags me back and back and back.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

There’s excitement in his eyes. He doesn’t even know what this is. Yang certainly picked it out. For all I know, I’m about to open a gun, and then I’ve gotta figure out how to shoot it before he does.

I don’t tear into it. That’s not what ladies do. It might upset Damien. I slip one finger under the folds and slide until the tape pops, then do the same for every crease and crevice. He needs to know that I appreciate the gift. That I’m not greedy, but grateful. I move too fast and get a papercut. I keep my face placid because if Damien thinks it hurt me he’ll get angry. I’ll either be considered hateful, making me hurt myself like this, or it'll be considered blamatory. That I made him hurt me.

Once the wrapping is off, I gently fold it, running my fingers over the glitter. It’s so beautiful. I give Damien another smile and he leans forward, clasping his hands. Yang watches from the door.

I open the box. Inside is a sketch book and charcoal. If my heart could, it would fly away.

“Damien,” I whisper, wide eyed. “I love it.”

“Yeah?” He grins. Fuck him.

I pull it out, setting the box aside and cherishing the gift. “Yes.”

“Go ahead. Draw something. I missed when you used to draw.”

It’s a half-truth. Damien did like my drawings, but only when they were of him. He liked when I would draw his eyes because they were evil. I tried to stab myself with a pencil, and he took it all away. If I do the right thing, right now, he’ll let me keep it.

I flip to the first page, look up at Damien, and begin to sketch. I don’t take too long because he’ll get impatient. I draw him on the beach. That’s the calmest I’ve ever seen him. The wind is in his hair with his eyes crinkled at the corners. I darken them and dash in an evil grin. Up in the sky I draw Jupiter. It’s rudimentary. I’m unpracticed and I’m running out of time, but I think he’ll like it. He’ll think I love it.

I shyly tear the page on the perforation and place it in his outstretched hand.

“I love you so much, Damien,” I add to sweeten the deal. Maybe I mean it. I don’t know anymore.

He looks at it, studying it. “Goddamn, baby girl, you’re such a fucking artist. Look at this,” he calls Yang over.

Yang stands behind him, intently scanning the sketch. There’s just a twitch at the corner of his mouth that tells me he likes it. It tells me he understands that I did listen all of those times. “Your artist, sir.”

There’s a little spark of hope. I hold it tightly inside of myself. Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider, and Damien is a fucking idiot.

I don’t know where I am. The sheets are silky. Fuck. Again? I try to recall what happened last night, but my last memory is arguing with Cole and feeling drunk as fuck. I feel like I need to apologize to someone, but the shame makes me want to sink into this divine mattress. I crack my eyelids open, and my blurry surroundings start to focus. I’m so fucking hungover. I sit up and rub my eyes. At least I managed to put clothes on, although it’s not what I was wearing last night. Ashland the thief strikes again. Now I just need to get out of here. I glance around and suddenly I know exactly where I am.

What. The. Fuck.

I’ve done a lot of crazy shit, but breaking into someone’s house has never been one of them. Not when I’m blackout, at least. I fall out of the bed frantically looking for my phone. Koda. He was pissed at me. Did I do something insane because I was annoyed? Quite fucking possibly. This is a long fucking walk from where I was last night.

Oh no. What if I didn’t come here alone?

No. No. No.No.

I live to piss Koda off, but not like this. That’s fun. Those are games. This is fucked up.

I crawl to the side table bringing myself to stand. My legs are wobbly, but I’ve got to power through and call Penny. I need to go back into therapy. Maybe I should be committed. Maybe I'm losing my fucking mind. She’ll know what to do. Maybe we should run to a new city and change our names. This is bad. This is horrible. I don’t even know what to make of this.

I stumble toward the door, praying that I came here alone. I can smell breakfast. Oh my God, this just gets worse. I try to bolster my confidence by telling myself this is cunty not crazy and put one foot in front of the other, even though it feels like gravity is dragging me down.

I see the culprit of the bacon smell standing with his back to me in the kitchen.

“Koda?”

He turns around and faces me. His expression is different than any of the ones I know.

“Good. You’re awake. I made breakfast.”

He gestures for me to sit down at the counter and hands me a bottle of water. I chug it. My body is screaming for hydration, and I’m starving. My entire state of being is just confused. Waking up somewhere random? Fine. Waking up at Koda’s? Not fine.

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