Chapter 62

The following days were... harrowing. Noah and I poured over notebooks. Noah had somehow managed to steal Maria's grandmother's diary.

There was a lot to go through. Her diary was thick with bible-thin pages. She wrote almost essay-length entries every day. Such a complicated woman.

She wrote a lot about the discontent in her marriage, about her children. Allen's precociousness, Bobby's kindness, Ted...well, Ted was really fussy. She seemed almost exhausted with him. She compared him a lot to the husband she left. His hair, his eyes, "if I hadn't given birth to him, I would never believe he was mine."

Most of all, she wrote about how she hated her life. The endless parties she was expected to host. The uncomfortable dresses she had to wear. How her husband expected her unfailing support and agreement. How he beat her when she didn't give it.

It was almost uncomfortable at times to read. I read halfway through the journal and then had to put it down.

I went to Justin's house after school to watch a movie. Our relationship had changed from holding hands to kissing. I liked him. He was so different than anyone else at Trinity. He rejected everything the school stood for yet managed to have everyone falling at his feet.

I think I liked him because he made me feel as if I had control. Everyone fell at this boy's feet, and I just could care less.

With Robbie, I had no control. His touch made me lose my grip on everything. When he kissed me, it was as if I were free-falling without knowing where the crashpad would be. I flung myself at his feet, and he trampled over me. His words had hurt more than I would admit to anyone, even myself.

Justin could never hurt me like that. Even if he wanted to. I think he knew that. I could tell it bothered him. I noticed he thrived on control. His power over other people gave him self-worth.

It was strange.

We kissed instead of watching the movie when he broke away.

"Where do you go after school?"

"To Noah's," I said, making myself comfortable on his bed.

"Do you do this with him?" Justin asked.

"What, kissing? Of course not. I tutor him. We talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Anything," I lied, "Actually, yesterday we talked about you," I said, this wasn't a lie.

"Talked about me? What did you say?"

"Nothing he said he thought you were good for me. Normal. He wasn't a big fan of Robbie."

"Noah said something nice about me? Doubtful," he said, clicking out of the movie to find something else to watch.

I put my hand over the one he was using to hold the remote, "It's true."

Justin scoffed, "you know I don't think I like that very much."

"Like what?"

"My girlfriend going over Ryans' house every day. People say they see you coming out of his apartment in the morning. It makes me look bad."

"I mean, we're not even that serious."

"That's not what everyone thinks. No one is going to vote for me if they think I'm a cuck, Lia. They're going to think I'm an idiot. Especially running against Robert. Everyone knows you guys used to fuck.

"I'm so confused," I said, shaking my head.

"About what?"

"I'm trying to understand if you're just being ridiculous or if this stems from jealousy."

Justin let out an uncomfortable type of laugh.

"We're just friends, Justin. Who cares what anyone says?"

"Men and women are never just friends, Lia."

"That's so sexist to say."

He turned to look at me, his lips pursed, "So you're going to tell me that Noah has absolutely no feelings for you? Feelings that aren't friendly. Be honest."

"It doesn't matter if I don't reciprocate them."

Justin let out a laugh, "I knew it."

We sat in silence before he spoke again, "He kissed you. I saw the show he and Robbie put on at the beginning of the year."

"He did that to piss Robbie off."

"And that makes it okay?"

"Well, no. But Noah apologized," I explained.

"And that makes it okay?" He repeated.

"Justin," I said, tired, "can we just go back to watching the movie?"

"I'm not going to be made into an idiot if Noah Ryans decides that he wants to kiss my girlfriend."

"He wouldn't do that. Not now that we're friends. If you got to know him..."

"We have nothing in common, Lia," he said, rolling his eyes, "you don't even have anything in common with him. He's a rich brat."

"Of course, we have things in common. We paint together. We both like art, and we help each other become better artists. He's really good, Justin. He pushes me to get better, and he has a lot more technical knowledge about the subject than I do."

He rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Art? You're both in a high school art course. It doesn't mean you're creating art. It doesn't mean you're artists."

"That's rude," I said, frowning.

"I mean, it's just realistic. What are you planning to do with art? Starve? Noah Ryans can do art for the rest of his life and live off daddy's money. What about you? What bills does art pay?"

I frowned, feeling an illogical need to defend myself, "It's not affecting my studies; I'm still ahead of everyone."

"Is that why you don't want to study medicine?" he asked.

Justin was obsessed with the idea of me being a doctor. He loved to tell everyone that we were both going to Harvard and that I would be a future doctor.

"I just thought you were more grounded than that," he said when I didn't answer.

"It's not that I don't want to do medicine. I mean, Justin, where is this coming from? You write... that's just as difficult a field to make it in. "

"I'm head of the newspaper. I will be head as well when I get settled at Harvard. That paper has prestige; writers that come from there actually get careers in publications like the New Yorker and the New York Times. Even so, I'm not focusing solely on writing."

"You aren't?"

"No. I'm looking into financing. Writing gives me opportunities, and it will be a nice part-time gig, but until it pays well, I'm doing something else. We're not like them, Lia. I know they made you their pet, but you can't forget who you are. When they get bored of you like Robert did, where will you be?"

"Stop."

"Seriously. He's screwing that girl, you know. When are you going to stop pining over him? It's so embarrassing."

"I don't pine over him."

"Please, everyone can see it; it's pathetic. Even Robert thinks it's pathetic. He's so annoyed with you. I can't really blame him."

Justin really knew how to drain my energy at times. The conversation was over. I refused to answer him.

We sat in a loud silence, neither of us paying attention to what was happening in the movie. He switched to another film.

About thirty minutes into the new movie, I felt his lips on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I said. His lips traveled up my shoulder, my neck, and to the corner of my mouth.

"Lia, I'm sorry," he said again. I turned to kiss him. Because sometimes that was easier than arguing. I felt his hand move up my leg, up my skirt.

"Stop," I said, placing my hand over his.

"Why?" he said, kissing me deeper. His hand pulled the shirt tucked into my skirt. His fingers brushed over my skin then dipped into the elastic waistband of my tights and underwear.

"Justin, stop," I said, pulling away. His fingers reached down, touching me between my legs.

"No. Stop. I said, squeezing my legs shut. He grabbed my chin and tried to kiss me; I smacked my hand hard on his cheek.

We both froze, and then his hand came around my neck, making me gasp. There was a flash of something in his eyes that was gone as quick as it came. He let go of me.

"Why do you always make me the bad guy? Because I want to kiss and touch my girlfriend? That's what normal couples do, Lia."

"We aren't a normal couple."

"I don't get what the big deal is? You can fuck around with Ryans and not with your boyfriend?"

I shook my head, "I do not fuck around with Ryans," my hands softly brushed over the skin on my neck. What the fuck just happened?

"Justin, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"You choked me."

"No, I didn't. I grabbed your neck to kiss you; I would hardly call that chocking."

I gaped at him, "You were angry."

"Lia, I didn't choke you. Don't be so dramatic. See, I told you. You're so vanilla."

I got up from the bed and fixed my shirt.

"What are you doing?" he said, his eyes widening.

"I'm going home."

"I'll take you."

"No," I said as I slung my bag on my shoulder.

"Lia, it's late. I'm going to take you."

I held my hand up, "No. I want to be alone."

He groaned into his hands, "Lia, I'm sorry; I swear I didn't choke you; you're misinterpreting what happened. I'm sorry if I was pushy. It's just hard. I'm a guy. I get turned on if I'm kissing a girl on my bed."

I shook my head.

"Please, I really care about you. Don't make this into something it isn't. We have a meeting tomorrow for school events. The candidates always use it to campaign for office. I really want you there with me. Please."

I felt drained, "fine. I just want to go home now. By myself," I added before he could offer again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said before walking out of his room.

When I got home, I was exhausted. This week was so tiring.

I sat eating dinner and reading through one of the journals I had taken from Robbie's room. I had made myself a quick dinner of scrambled eggs, leftover beans, and rice when the door opened up. I wasn't expecting my dad home early today.

I quickly shut the journal and pretended to look through my phone while I picked at my food.

Not that he would ask me what I was doing. He never did.

He went directly into the kitchen, served himself from the food on the counter, and sat down in front of me.

We never ate dinner together.

"You don't say hi?" He said gruffly.

I shrugged, "You didn't either."

We ate in silence.

"You're out a lot."

"I'm studying at a friend's house. I stay till late. It doesn't make sense to come home."

"This isn't a hotel Cecilia."

"Well, I would hope not," I said, pointing to some discarded bottles he failed to clean up, "The reviews on google wouldn't be very nice.

He raised his hand then, and I readied myself. He shook his head.

"What?" I asked, already feeling upset.

"Nothing, just marveling at how rude you've become. I guess it was expected."

I looked down at my plate.

"You were always such a grumpy kid. It was hard to love you growing up. Selfish and always in a bad mood."

"You're not exactly a ray of sunshine," I muttered.

"Well, I guess we're the same then. I guess we will end up the same too. Alone and with a kid who would rather do anything than be around you."

"You're alone because you're a drunk. I'm not a drunk."

"If you say so. Where's your boyfriend Cecilia?"

I looked down at my plate.

"You and I, we aren't not meant to be loved," he said.

"I'm going to eat in my room," I said, standing up.

He didn't say anything.

I wish he would have hit me instead.

The following day my little brother was hit by a car crossing the street.

The man thought he put the car in park but put it in neutral instead. The car was going at a snail's pace that didn't even register on the odometer.

The outcome was a broken leg and sprained wrist. The perpetrator was a father dropping off his child at his elementary school. He stayed with my brother at the hospital while my mother arrived. Covered all of the bills and made sure he was recovering well.

Nothing like Robbies hit and run.

It was still too much.

I felt at fault. Like a stain. Like cancer.

We were split off into separate classes later in the week during Government and Economics.

It was sex ed week. Boys in one room, girls in the other. Our class was led by Ms. Renner. A nun with a really off-putting smile. She was rumored to have thrown a fit when New York banned corporal punishment for children. 

"Remember, ladies, this is an open forum. A safe space," she said and added quotation marks to the term 'safe-space.'

We watched a video where a girl gets pressured into having sex with a handsome jock. He leaves her when they're done, and she finds out she's pregnant and has an STD. Her life is ruined.

The narrator goes on to give a long discussion on love and the bible. How we might think we love our boyfriend the same way with think, we love pizza. But it isn't real love, it's pizza love, and he will leave us when we give him our most precious treasure. 

"Do you know what that is, ladies?" the lady in the video asked us.

"The original Degas my mother won at an auction?" Lana asked and I coughed to hide my laugh. 

"Shh, Ms. Geniao," Ms. Renner said, "keep your comments till after the film."

"Your virginity," The lady in the video answered. Then closed with a message about waiting until you are married under God's guidance.

"Cos then when he leaves you, you can take half his shit," Lana said, and everyone laughed.

The teacher glared at her.

"This is such bullshit," I muttered, crossing my arms in front of me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Gomez?"

"Girl, it is not worth it," Lana said; she sat next to me, filing her nails.

"I said, this is bullshit. This isn't going to stop anyone from having sex. Sex also doesn't have to be this terrifying experience. It could be beautiful and loving when you do it with the right person or under the right circumstances."

I heard some freshmen girl giggle.

"How would you know this, Ms. Gomez?"

"Because I've had sex, like almost every other girl in this room. It's irresponsible to pretend high school kids aren't sexually active. You should be teaching us how to be safe."

"Office," Ms. Renner said, pointing to the door.

"Seriously? I thought this was an open forum?" I asked sitting up and crossing my arms in front of me.

I saw Lana cover her face with her hands.

"Office, now," Ms. Renner repeated. 

I scoffed, "whatever," I said, grabbing my bag.