Blues

6. Turning Blue.

"Can't keep standing still when this fire's turning blue."
Turning blue by Adam Agin.

“Dylan is no fun,” Claire blusters the moment she joins us back on the table with Alexa tailing her. “He always takes off like that in the middle of the night."  She ventilates her displeasure with a dramatic eye-roll that puts Kim Kardashian’s to shame.

Do they even sleep?
Of course. They don't have to aggravate themselves with jobs.

“Who was that guy?” I blurt out, not being able to constrain my curiosity any longer. Is it only curiosity though? Because I conceive a hoot of panic laced with it. “The one Dylan left with.”

They all stare at me in silence for a long moment, before Logan parts his mouth to answer. “He-”

“Don't.” Claire speaks through gritted teeth, turning to face me with a mien full of condescension, as if she were deigning to speak to someone so valueless like me. “Do you think you have the right to ask questions just because you got to hang out with us for a little while?” She studies her friends’ faces, clearly casting about for a reasonable answer to her question, before she crosses her arms, goggling me with eyes freshly extracted from the freezer. “I don't think so.”

The way she's looking down her nose at me as if I were a piece of trash, makes my ego double over in pain. Suddenly, my anxiety is replaced by fury.

I lean back in my seat, trying to relax my features in order to look cool and unaffected. “I don't know if it works on everyone else, but I assure you that it doesn't on me.” I inwardly high-five myself when my voice comes out sleek and nonchalant.

“What?” she tilts her head.

“Your stuck-up bitchy attitude. You either pull that stick out of your ass or I'll only have to shove it up some more.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table, ignoring how gay the words sounded, and continue. “My bitchy side is hardcore, and I suggest you don't provoke it.” I shrug one shoulder.

I didn't lie. My temper is quite rough-and-tumble. I remember calling my teacher a bitch once. What happened? Nothing except being nearly expelled, but my mother did a successful job at begging her to overlook my brainless action, promising that it would never happen again. She was right. I didn't want to see her begging again. No one wants to see their mother being cheapened like that.

But she's not here now, is she?

I hear Trent choking on his beer, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Alexa's mouth parted in shock, but I don't chicken out.

It happens so fast that I fail to foresee it. She splashes my face with her untouched Margarita.

I close my eyes for a second, calming my flaring temper, a temper that she never wants to get acquainted with. She leans forward, mimicking my posture. “I know what's on your mind-” she reaches out with her index finger to prod me in the forehead, but I catch her wrist, squeezing a bit, reminding her of the day she gave me the same treatment. She tugs her hand free and continues, “You want to be a part of us, but I don't have to fill you in on what happened to the last one who tried.” she stops, looking around to make sure she has her friends' attention. She smirks wickedly, sharing a mysterious memory with them before turning back to me. “At least she was a bit decent, not a penniless, needy piece of trash who dreams too big.” She sneers at me before she sighs dramatically, feigning tiredness, and stands, muttering, “I need a refill.”

I'm paralysed for a moment. The rage inside me is unutterable. It's so imposing and overwhelming, wanting to explode in different, murky forms, but I postpone them, except for one.