Under a Silent Moon

23

Chapter Twenty-Three: Fact and Fable

LANA

My mom looks like she's about to slug me in the face when I walk through the front door.

"So you don't answer your goddamn phone now either?"

I sigh dramatically. "I fell asleep at a friend's house. Everything's cool."

I kick off my shoes and shrug out of my jacket. She follows me up the stairs to the bathroom.

"Everything is not cool, Lana. Not cool at all," she's saying behind me. I escape into the bathroom and try to close the door, but she blocks it with her body.

"What do you want, Mom?"

"I don't care if you think I'm the biggest bitch in the world, you live under my roof and you need to let me know where you're at."

"Queen Bitch," I correct her, trying again to close the door. "Some privacy, please?"

She laughs humorlessly at that. "I think you've had enough privacy tonight, don't you think?"

I turn on her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I talked to Carly and Sebastian. You weren't with them. And we all know those are your only two friends, so where the hell were you, Lana?"

Fuming, I attempt to swallow the harsh words I have for my mother. "None of your business."

"Bullshit."

I roll my eyes, and she slaps me hard across the face. I stumble a few feet backwards into the sink.

When I regain focus, I see Mom looking at her hand like she's surprised at what it just did. "I'm sorry," she says. "But I don't know how else to get through to you."

She's out of the doorway now, so I close myself in the bathroom and say, "No wonder Dad killed himself."

I lock my bedroom door to prevent any unwanted visitors, not that Mom will pluck up the courage to face me again anytime soon. If she catches me with my door locked, she'll likely freak out. But I don't care. Let her be pissed.

Not sure if I should have said the thing about my dad, though. That might have taken things too far. But right now, I'm too heated to care.

I can't sleep, lying in my bed with angry tears streaming down the sides of my face, absorbing into the pillow. To distract my racing mind, I pull out my phone and start scrolling through social media.

Out of boredom and curiosity, I type Lizzy's name in and begin to creep on her profile. It's flooded with superficial pictures of herself--rows and rows of selfies. She's making the same stupid face in all of them--lips puckered like a duck, long hair parted in the middle, falling neatly over her exposed collarbone.

There's group photos scattered about her page. Some with her and her friends. A few of her and her cheerleading squad. My heart anxiously flutters when Zack's face stares back at me, tan and smiling, his arm draped around Lizzy's thin frame.

Zack makes me feel different--about myself, about the world around me. Aside from our times of crisis dealing with his unique predicament, I've thoroughly enjoyed every moment we've shared together. And I realize now, looking at this picture of him with another girl, that I don't want our moments to end. And it isn't just his personality that draws me to him. It also helps that he's fucking gorgeous.

I don't know why he'd choose someone like me over Lizzy. Sure, she's shallow and egotistical, but she's also popular and beautiful. She and Zack probably have so much fun together. Why should I get in the way of their fun? We're only young once.

Well, maybe that rule doesn't apply to Zack. With his supposed vampirism, the both of us assume he won't age. But we're still trying to distinguish between what's fact and fable. Sometimes I feel like he'll be here forever, like we have all the time in the world to figure shit out. And sometimes, I feel like he's slipping through my grip, and no matter how hard I pull, I can't get him any closer to me. Like he might disappear, just blink out of existence. Would the world grieve for him? Would they really see him, past the trophies and scholarships and good looks?

Besides Sebastian, I've never had a boy in my life for a significant amount of time. It's nice. Nice to have him see you and like you for who you are, and not just what you have to offer.

When I finish cyber-stalking Lizzy, I move on to Zack. We aren't following each other on any social media platforms yet--guess we've had more important things on our minds--so I send him a request and feel a fluttering in my stomach when he accepts it almost immediately.

Now that his page is viewable, I scroll through his own photos--not nearly as many as Lizzy. There's a professional one taken of him on the football field, sweaty and grass-stained. One with Julia on his back running around what looks like a wedding reception. She's got on a ruffled white dress with a flower tiara in her hair, and Zack's ensembled in a three-piece suit, looking mighty handsome if I do say so myself.

Interrupting my scrolling, I see a little heart icon pop up at the bottom of my screen. When I click to view the notification, I see Zack's liked one of my images. My profile is filled with things like a book I was reading or a sunset I saw, its yellows and oranges like watercolor on a canvas. But Zack found one of the few pictures of my face: I'm on my bed, eyes closed, smiling as Terrence burrows into my curls that splay away from my head in all directions. Carly took this one, and although it isn't pictured, Sebastian's in the corner rambling about how unhygienic it is for a ferret to be so close to my face.

Right after it was taken, I gave Terrence a smooch on his nose and Sebastian nearly lost his shit. Carly and I rolled onto the floor in hysterical laughter, clutching our aching tummies.

This is the image of me Zack chose to "love."

Although seemingly insignificant, I cherish this moment. This fleeting connection between the two of us through a screen. It fills me with almost enough joy to not reach for the bottle under my pillow.

Almost.