Page 38 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
That’s when I lift my head to look at him. “You think I’m scared?”
Jamal shrugs. “You’re not?”
“Pfft. I’m not scared of Nick.”
He raises an eyebrow, and he doesn’t have to say what I already know he’s thinking:Then why did you come hide in the bathroom?
And part of me wants to tell him exactly why, but the problem isIdon’t know. I don’t know why I ran in here. I don’t know why I’ve been getting so damn angry lately or why I haven’t been able to control myself or why I’ve had so much fucking energy after not sleeping atall. All I know is... I don’t want it to stop. And that kind of scares the shit out of me.
“What?”I finally answer his nonverbal question, pretending I don’t know what he wants to ask.
“Question,” he says without taking his eyes off mine. I just nod for him to go on. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks, and I’m about to answer no when the door swings open, and Bianca stands on the other side of it, holding a bottle of tequila.
Fuck.
I hop to my feet so fast I probably hyperextended something.
“Oh... am I... interrupting something?” she asks, looking at us all judgy.
No. Fuck, this is not happening right now. If Bianca outed Yami, she’d definitely do the same to me. Sure, Nick and his friends knew about me, but they didn’t really go around gossiping about it. It’s not that Jamal and I were doing anything in here anyway, but I definitely can’t letherthink that.
“Nope!” I say as casually as I can muster.
“I was having a panic attack, and Cesar came to calm me down,” Jamal lies, thank God. A panic attack is a good reason to be locked in a bathroom with your strictly platonic best friend, right? “I’m just gonna... ,” Jamal starts as he slides past Bianca and out the door.
“Do you need the bathroom?” I ask.
“I mean... not really. I was just...” Bianca’s playing with her hair as she talks, and she’s not making eye contact. She looks like she might have just been drunk crying.
“You okay?” I ask, even though the last thing I should care about is whether or not Bianca is okay. She sits down next to me and hands me the bottle, which I gladly take a few generous swigs from before handing it back.
“I’m fine. I’m just somad!”
“Yeah, breakups are rough,” I say with a nod, relating to her more than I’d like. “Fuck Nick.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass.” She laughs for a second before going back to looking sad. “But no, it’s not about him actually.”
“What is it, then?” I ask, stupidly.
She pauses for a second. “Why is Yami still mad at me? Like, I just chewed Nick out in front of his friends for her!”
“Wow,” I say under my breath, trying to ignore the implication that I had nothing to do with that whole scene. “So, you brought your boyfriend who youknowused to jump me to a party youknewI was at just so you could talk to my sister? And when shit almost popped off you only stepped in so you’d look good... to my sister?”
I expect her to roll her eyes and defend herself, but she just sighs and gulps down some more tequila. “I guess I didn’t really think it through.”
She hands me back the bottle, and I take it. For some reason, that response makes me soften up. I’m no better than Bianca when it comes to being impulsive and hurting other people. I’ve been hurting everyone around me basically every move I make. They’d all be so much better without me. Maybe me and Bianca are more alike than I thought.
The only person who seems to get any kind of enrichment from my existence is Nick. Specifically, when he’s beating the shit out of me. I take another swallow from the bottle before looking back at Bianca.
“Do you think Yami really loved me? You know, like that?” Bianca looks sad as she says it.
“I mean, why wouldn’t she?” I ask, my words blurring together.
I meant it more like, why would Yami lie about that, but Bianca gets all smiley like I just gave her a compliment. She grins and takes my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
She pulls me to my feet and out the door, and I let her. We go out to the living room, where Bianca picks up a red cup from the coffee table, which she apparently abandoned for the tequila bottle we forgot in the bathroom. She’s about to put the cup to her mouth when I stop her.
“Don’t drink that,” I say, coaxing it away from her lips.
