Bitter Confections

3

Having survived through the last week of school before Christmas break and arriving at the night before I leave, I realize that what initially fueled me to say yes to my internship, i.e. my hatred for Celeste's bullshit, has since worn off and I officially feel as though I have no weapon to march into battle with.

Surprisingly, I'm not mad at her for making me into the High School Whore.

I'm not mad at her for peeing on her territory that is Gene Devoney.

I'm just isolated. The guys at school think they can take from me and the girls love to hate me. Everything feels like a feeding frenzy and I'm the one being eaten. 

I'm not mad. Being mad requires energy that I don't have. In fact, I don't really feel anything at all.

I almost think that's worse.

"Knock, knock!" My mom says, coming into my room after tucking Brennan into bed. "You all ready to go tomorrow?" she smiles and I just shrug as I continue to stuff my clothes in my suitcase. She walks up to me and puts a hand on either shoulder, "You, Ivy Clawson, are going to bake incredible things there. I just know it." I smile because I know she's right.

Baking is the only thing that makes sense to me. The measurements, the precision. I know you're thinking that I'm probably good at math too, right? Well you're wrong. I am shit at math. I can't feel the weight and texture of a math problem in my hand. I can't whisk air into a parabola and make it pillowy. Sure, there's precision in math, but there is life in baking something. There is life in watching raw ingredients go into an oven and rise.

"Deb will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up."

"What?!" I exclaim, "Why aren't you taking me?" This is the first time my mom has mentioned this.

"I want to baby, but the flu is going around at Brennan's daycare, so we are keeping him home for a couple of days."

"I took him to daycare just the other day and all the kids seemed fine! Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish I could be there."

I give her a hug. No need to lay the guilt on any thicker. I see her shoulders slump and her eyes are starting to look a little glossy. I get the sense that there's something she isn't telling me, but I really don't want to make her feel any worse, so I drop it. She kisses me on the forehead and heads to bed.

As I continue packing, I remember to include the care package that Charlie dropped off for me this morning: chocolate, two new romance novels I've been dying to read, fuzzy socks, a flask filled with my favorite coconut rum, and a joint.

I held up the joint and looked at her. She revealed her devious little grin and said, "For when you're feeling high strung."

I shake my head just thinking about it and stuff it into my suitcase anyways. 

I sit on my suitcases to zip them up and get ready for bed. However, when my head finally lands on my pillow, I can't sleep. I just lay here, bug eyed, staring at my ceiling, cursing myself for agreeing to go. What the hell am I doing?

Eventually morning comes and I can practically feel the deep set rings around my eyes that I'm sure are really complimenting the heavy bags that have formed as well. My curly hair springing and boinging in every which way.

I step out of my room into the kitchen where my mom is already making breakfast. She takes one look at me, and her mouth forms a perfect "o" shape, "Yikes. Sleep okay?" A small chuckle escapes and she tries to cover her mouth with her hand, to prevent more from leaking out.