Just a Pucking Prank [COMPLETED]

Chapter 10 - Spiraling

Lydia

I remove my make-up and set up my laptop to watch a few episodes of a series. It's been a long day. It's also been a very long time since someone got mad at me for ruining my future.

Ever since the accident, people around me have been letting me slide. They probably mean well, but they've also let me slide through the cracks. Slide away from things that once mattered to me.

Ellie keeps talking about counseling and therapy. And yes, she gets mad when I do stupid things. But she's never accused me of not caring about my future.

Wes did.

I put on a comfy shirt and lean back against my headboard. He meant his future. He is worried about his own future, and now it's tied to mine. It's probably frustrating that he's not in control.

I close my eyes. No more thinking about Wes and his hands under my skirt. His lips on mine. What would it feel like if they traced down my neck?

His eyes were dark when he stared at my boobs. He lied when he said I had a stain on my shirt. He probably wants to remove my shirt and...

I open my eyes. No. This is not how this is supposed to go. Wesley Porter is an asshole, and he's not worthy of my time. I won't spare him another thought. He's not worth it.

I put the laptop aside and get up. I need juice. Hopefully, Ellie has been shopping.

I'm not sure if she's home tonight. She's been spending a lot of time with her boyfriend. Which I love for her. But it gets lonely at times.

I open the fridge. It's stocked to the brim. I find some juice and pour myself a glass. As I do, my phone buzzes.

It's Trisha asking me to join them at a party. I check the time. It's not even ten. Normally, I'd be out the door as soon as I'm dressed and have make-up on. But tonight, I don't feel like it.

I text back to decline the invite. The response from Trisha is disbelief and I have to convince her I don't want to go out tonight.

I settle back with the laptop, but my mind keeps wandering. The papers with the extra credit I got from Professor Turner sit on my desk. I should probably have a look at it. Maybe that's a future worth having. Maybe I need to change.

My hand goes to my hip. To the scar that I carry with me. I could have a future. It's what they would have wanted. I rub the scar and take a deep breath. I almost forgot that my future died that day. Everything I wanted, everything they wanted. It was all gone so soon. And now I don't know what to do.

I'm suffocating.

I had it all planned out. I had a future. And I saw it clearly. They were there when I graduated. I imagined them getting up in the middle of the night to watch me present the news. They would brag to their friends about me and show them my name in the credits if I worked off camera somewhere. I had it all in my head.

I even thought that once I was famous, and got a talk show, I could invite them to be in the audience. And they would be so proud of me.

I slam the laptop shut. I can't do this. It's too much.

Three steps have me at my wardrobe. I'll text Trisha. Then I'll get a car and go meet them. And I'll get lost in the music. And then I don't have to think about it.

I grab a black dress and pull it out when my phone buzzes. I toss the dress on the bed and check to see if Trisha and Pres came to get me after all.

I furrow my brow at the message. It's from Wes. He's sending me a picture of a scrunchie.

Did you leave this in my car?

I look at the picture. I blink. Then I type a message.

Is this why you wanted my number? So you could text me with bullshit reasons at all hours of the day?

I sit down on the bed, waiting for him to reply.

It's not like you were asleep. I just dropped you off.

And you think a scrunchie is so important it couldn't wait until the next time you see me?

I pull up my legs and lay on my side as I wait. My eyes drift to the extra credit.

I don't know how important these things are.

It's not mine.

The answer comes quickly.

Oh.

I reach for the extra credit. Maybe I could have a look at it. I don't put my phone away. But I read through the assignments, thinking how I might even be able to get it done.

I glance at the phone. Wes is typing. I hold my breath. The dots disappear. Then they re-emerge. And disappears again.

I take a deep breath and read the first assignment again. Then I reach for my laptop.