Reading With Rasta: The Secrets That Kill Us by Phoenix Blackwood
The Secrets That Kill Us by Phoenix Blackwood. Prologue.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, making me squint even more than usual to try and see everything going on around me. The air smelled of overripe fruit; just looking at the tables in the crowded classroom made me feel sticky. Trying to ignore the stares of students as I walked by them, I made my way to the back corner of the class and sat down. I started squirming in my seat due to the texture on the desk’s surface – it was like someone had spilled a cup of fruit juice and let it dry there. A few kids looked back at me and snickered. I was the new kid again, and fifth grade in this school would probably be just as ruthless, if not more so, than in the others.
The teacher called attention to the front of the classroom. I couldn’t see what was going on from the back, but I didn’t really care. It was only a matter of time before they would place me in easier classes when they realized that I had no idea what was happening in any of the standard ones. I’d already been held back a year, what’s the point of trying now? Everyone already assumed I wouldn’t succeed. Trying harder just got me a headache and sometimes worse grades. I loosely paid attention as the teacher droned on about decimals and how to multiply them, which was funny because I still barely knew the difference between a fraction and a decimal. One’s a dot and the other’s a slash, I had no idea which one was which.
The bell rang for lunch, and I made my way towards the cafeteria. A few kids pushed past me on the way there, almost knocking me over. I’d always been pretty small, easily lost in the sea of children in the hallways. I stared at the ground as I walked, the dingy, blue-speckled tiles providing a sliver of entertainment in an otherwise overall beige hallway. The cafeteria didn’t smell great, it had a type of fast-food scent with a hint of sweaty pre-teen to it. Grabbing a dry-looking piece of pizza and a bottle of water while in line, I went to sit at an empty table in the corner of the room. It was quieter there, the general buzz of conversation was overwhelming my ability to think. I got as far in the corner as I could, facing the room. No one could sneak up on me here. The pizza felt as dry in my mouth as it had looked, and I squinted while trying to chew my way through it.
Much to my surprise, a girl came up to the table and sat across from me. She looked at me with a warm smile, and I glanced at her briefly before looking back down at my tray. She was pale and had dirty blond hair, almost looking like a ghost next to my freckled brown skin. Her eyes were the brightest green I’d ever seen, and she was wearing a light-yellow sundress with a bow in the back. She seemed so comfortable in the environment, sitting in the middle of the bench, not caring who was behind her. Her gaze fell on me as if she was unaware that anyone else was in the room.
“You’re new.” Her voice was soft and warm, just like her smile that curled up on the edges, almost like a cat’s.
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I stared down at the pizza and attempted to rip off another bite. She let out a small giggle and I looked up at her, not sure if she was laughing at me or how ridiculously shitty this pizza was.
“I’m Alex.”
I tipped my head up at her slightly to acknowledge the
greeting, still unsure of her motive.
“You should really avoid the pizza on Fridays, they just cook a huge batch on Monday so it’s the same reheated crap for the rest of the entire week. That slab you’ve got there has been reheated at least four times.”
I looked back down at the tray. It seemed impossible to make pizza that dry, so her explanation made sense. I looked back at her and narrowed my eyes, still wary of how friendly she was being. After her kindness, I figured I should at least give her my name.
“Liz.” The word gruffly escaped my mouth.
“Oh, so you can talk! I was starting to wonder.” She let out another giggle, hunkering down in the seat and beginning to pick at the limp French fries she had on her tray.
I pushed the pizza away. My jaw hurt from trying to get through the two bites I had taken. Plastic scraped on the table, and I looked over to see the girl pushing her tray closer to me. Her food selection didn’t look a lot better, but it didn’t look like my teeth would fall out trying to eat it. There were the soggy-looking French fries, some yellowish apple slices, and some chicken nuggets that probably weren’t even real chicken.
“We can share.”
I still didn’t understand why she was being nice to me, but I felt a sharp pain in my stomach as it grumbled, begging for something to subsist on. Picking up one of the apple slices, I muttered, “Thanks,” as I bit into it. The gratitude was barely audible to myself over the chatter of the room.
She smiled at me again. “People are usually jerks to the new kids, especially halfway through the year. We can be friends if you want, I’ll at least try not to be a jerk.”
The end of her sentence had a slight sarcastic tone to it, but she seemed genuine enough. I was still looking for any ulterior motive she would have for talking to me. Something told me that she liked the project of winning over the gloomy outsider.
“Okay.” I conceded.
She held out a hand. “That means we look out for each other. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.”
Shaking her hand, I avoided eye contact. If only she knew how much trouble I’d be.
Chapter one.
High school wasn’t much different than middle school, other than things being less sticky and more dingy. I’d made it through freshman year by the skin of my teeth, and now the daunting task of sophomore year stood before me, halfway accomplished. The guys were a lot more obnoxious, graduating from senseless teasing to aggression in order to fulfill their newfound need for overbearing toxic masculinity. I rolled my eyes as I walked past a group of guys pushing each other around, proving my point. At least I wasn’t the new kid this time. I’d somehow managed to keep up with the class and graduate. I’d made it through a year and a half of high school without being held back. It was still a constant struggle. When I got to my locker I squinted at the paper I’d been given for the code, bringing it closer to my face. Contacts weren’t cutting it, I really needed to wear my glasses. But damn, did I hate them. After a few different attempts I managed to get the right numbers and threw the books I didn’t need in. They made a loud slam as they hit the back of the locker.
Another metallic thud, a few feet away this time. There was another group of boys pushing each other around. My eyes rolled until I heard a shout from a kid I couldn’t even see. I craned my neck to get a look. He was on the ground, and the group of kids was focused on him. As I narrowed my eyes, one of the bigger guys kicked the kid in the stomach. My blood boiled. I threw my bag to the ground and walked over to them, pushing the guy that had thrown the kick out of the way. He slid back and hit the locker.
“What the fuck?!” His face turned a bright red as he faced me.
“Leave him the fuck alone.” I warned, my tone flat.
“Stay out of this, bitch.” He shoved me and I took a step back to steady myself.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I clenched my fists tight enough that my nails dug into my hand. I took a step forward and with one swift movement I punched him square in the face.
“Fuck!” He yelled.
His shout was muffled through his hands that were covering his nose. A small amount of blood dripped down through his fingers, tears in his eyes to go along with it. Rage flashed across his face, and a couple of his friends tried to grab me and hold me down. I ducked as hands flew towards me and he charged. I simply stepped out of the way, causing him to overshoot and hit the lockers on the other side of the hall. Cursing, he got up and stumbled away, giving up the fight. The group followed, but not without pushing me into the lockers.
I steadied myself and then looked down at the kid that the group had been ganging up on. He was curled up with his knees to his chest, his arms covering his face and head. He was shaking. This was the part I wasn’t good at. Pushing around hardheaded bullies was nothing, I’d been doing that all my life. Comforting the victim was something I didn’t stick around for, since it was usually me. I didn’t need comforting.
I knelt down next to him and tried to soften my voice.
“You okay?”
As he unburied his face, I saw that he had long, messy black hair tied up in a ponytail and deep brown eyes. His skin was pale, but his face was flushed from breathing heavily. Maybe he’d been crying, but I couldn’t tell since he was now quiet and the fringe of his hair cast shadows on his face. Overall, his physique was pretty small – he was taller than me, but that didn’t take much. Most people were taller than my whopping 5’2”. There was a bit of blood on the corner of his mouth and bruises on his arms, some yellowed with age and some fresh. This clearly wasn’t the first time the kid had gotten beaten on.
“Yeah…” His voice was shaky.
I stood up and offered him a hand that he hesitantly took. He wobbled and leaned against the lockers, his face losing its flush and growing pale to match the rest of him.
“You should go to the nurse, you don’t look great.”
“No…no, it’s fine. I don’t…” His voice trailed off. There was apprehension in his voice. Straightening his posture using the lockers for support, he looked at me for the first time. “Thanks…I’m okay.”
He was waving me off with his words – I couldn’t help him if he didn’t want it. So, I gave him a half smile and picked up my books, putting up a hand to wave as I left. I made my way down the hallway until after a few turns I came upon an open locker and a girl sifting through the items inside. Stopping there, I leaned against the locker next to her.
Her once dirty blond hair was now dyed a bright, fiery red. It suited her better, and she’d done her eyebrows to match. She’d grown much taller than me and her lanky frame had gotten much fuller. Her piercing green eyes were still just the same. Once we’d hit high school, she’d started accenting them with makeup. She didn’t overdo it – a simple cat-eye eyeliner and a bit of smoky eyeshadow. To a similar effect, she wore some red-tinted lip gloss. The corners of her mouth still curved up a bit, even though she wasn’t smiling right now.
Actually, she looked pretty pissed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she slammed her locker shut before she even noticed I was there. The word “Slut” was carved in the front of it.
The familiar heat washed over me, a sensation that begged for action. “Who do I gotta beat up?”
She glared at me, a look that made my stomach drop. “What’s that?” She asked, nodding towards my hand.
For the first time since the scuffle earlier, I looked at my hand. My knuckles were raw and there was a smattering of blood across the back of my hand. Not mine. I hadn’t noticed.
“Some kids were being dicks.” I looked down at the ground, not wanting to face the intensity of the daggers she was staring in my direction.
Why is she mad at me?
“You know that’s not the way to handle it. You got away with a lot of shit in middle school you can’t do here. It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten more than suspensions. You’re practically on your last strike. Learn to walk away.” Her eyes were narrowed at me, misplaced anger wavering slightly across her face.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “How do you expect me to walk away when people are getting hurt?”
“That’s such an excuse. Stop fighting other people’s battles. Care about yourself for a change.”
She didn’t like me fighting, but this wasn’t anything new. It was pretty much the only fight we’d ever had in our four years of friendship. A battle she always lost with me.
Something else had to be wrong, especially since she was dodging the topic of her locker. She knew I didn’t make a good punching bag, so the hostility she threw in my direction wasn’t typical and made my stomach churn and my throat feel tight. I looked down at the ground again, shuffling my foot across the tile it had been resting on.
She inhaled sharply and let the breath out slowly. “Sorry…I got in a fight with my mom this morning. And this shit.” She gestured towards her locker. When she looked back at me, the daggers were gone, replaced with upturned eyebrows and pleading eyes. “You really need to stop though, you’re the only thing in my life that’s not fake and I don’t want to lose that”
There was a look of genuine sadness on her face. I wanted to run my hand down her cheek, but that felt like crossing the boundaries of friendship. Instead, I gave her a half smile. She’d never gotten along with her mom very well. Things had been especially tense lately – the locker was probably more of a reminder of that than a dig at her character. She’d been with a different boy almost every week since high school started, and her mom blamed that for all of her problems. Her mom never considered the alternative, that Alex was looking for the love she didn’t get at home.
“Let’s go get lunch,” I offered, trying to distract her.
She huffed a little, knowing what I was doing, but let it happen anyway and started walking in the direction of the cafeteria. Catching up to her, I stayed quiet. I hated that I didn’t know how to fix things for her.
We both grabbed food from the line – she had a limp salad and I grabbed a pretty generic sandwich. Food wasn’t any better here than it had been in middle school. We sat at a corner table, and I still sat as close as I could to the wall. Somehow Alex never seemed to mind turning her back to the entire room – she was able to focus as though we were the only two people there. She shook up her salad and then started picking at the wilted leaves.
“So what was happening this time?” Alex nodded at my hand again. “I know you never pick the fight.”
My shoulders bounced. “Assholes were ganging up on a kid. Wasn’t even fighting back.”
She shook her head. “Always so noble.”
I rolled my eyes.
Looking around the room, she pointed at a guy in a red t-shirt a few tables away. “He wasn’t one of them, was he?”
“No. Why?”
“You keep telling me I should be more picky, so I guess weeding out bullies is a good start.”
I looked down at the table. Another fling. Someday she’d get hurt.
She snickered under her breath. “How come you’ve never dated? If you put in the teeniest bit of effort you’d be able to get any guy you want.” She gently pulled my long, deep-brown ponytail over my shoulder and dropped it. “You’re gorgeous.”
My face got so hot, and my skin crawled a little. Something about her saying that made me feel tingly inside. My curves didn’t suit me as well as hers did – at least I didn’t think so. My chest had grown heavy, which didn’t do anything but hurt my shoulders and attract attention that I despised. I wore oversized sweatshirts to negate the latter issue. Because I exercised pretty frequently, I had a muscular frame that my wide hips tried to contradict. My hair was long only because I hated the idea of sitting in a chair while someone stood over me with a pair of scissors. The only feature I didn’t hate was my strong jawline, but that was the only one guys weren’t keen on.
She was right, I could get any guy I wanted. Problem was, I didn’t want any guy.
“You could do literally anything with your hair and then wear clothes that actually fit. Boom. Boyfriend. You wouldn’t even need makeup!” She said, waving her fork in the air.
I shrank down in my seat. “Just never liked anyone.” My eyes pleaded with her to change the topic.
She laughed. “Who says you have to actually like them? You’re the most cynical person I’ve ever met, you can’t tell me you buy into that ‘true love’ bullshit. Let me set you up with someone.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to answer.
Studying me, she tried to find a reaction to what she’d said. Her face looked almost as confused as I felt.
Giving up, she shook her head again. “Sometimes I don’t get you.”
Exhaling sharply, I pushed aside the sandwich I hadn’t even touched. My stomach hurt. I was done with today.
Alex turned her attention to the room and smiled, waving as a tall, skinny blond walked by. I looked up, then back down again. It was Seth – my adopted brother. He was a junior, and we pretended not to know each other at school. He and I looked so drastically different that just knowing we were from the same family, people would know that at least one of us was adopted. He was tall and lanky, with deep blue eyes and the lightest blond hair a human could naturally have – barely a shade darker than his porcelain skin. We didn’t cross paths at school often, him being a class above me, so we figured it would be easier this way. He sat down a few tables away, with a group of kids he played music with after school. They didn’t even know we knew each other – he’d always go to someone else’s house. Sometimes I wondered if he was embarrassed of me.
The bell rang for the end of the period, and I scooped up my bag and tray without saying anything. Alex looked at me quizzically – she was used to my silence, but she could also tell when something was off.
I floated through the rest of my classes that day. Concentrating was always hard, but today was worse for some reason. Random days were worse sometimes, thinking felt like trying to make out a far-away object through a thick fog. Trying to come out of it would just give me a headache, and I wouldn’t be able to maintain any kind of clarity for very long. Instead, I just gave in to the fog and could barely remember anything that happened during the day.
After school, I skipped the bus and made my way downtown to the skate park. It was sweater weather, so my sweatshirt wasn’t uncomfortable like it was in the summer. The air was crisp, and if the scent weren’t so polluted with gasoline and exhaust, it would have a sweet autumn smell. The bustle of the street was overwhelming even though I’d lived in the city for four years at this point. I tried to block it out with music, but I could never listen with both earbuds in without feeling like I’d be oblivious to something dangerous. Staring at the ground while walking was a good way to not accidentally make eye contact with people on the street. The sour look on my face helped me look as unapproachable as possible. Alex often joked about how bad my resting bitch face was.
I rubbed my hands on the wood grain on the bottom of my skateboard as I walked – it was a nice feeling, one that was familiar and soothing. Skating was probably the only positive activity I’d engaged in consistently since I was around ten. “Positive” was subjective, I guess. Mom always reprimanded me because I refused to wear a helmet. The characters that hung around the park weren’t great, but most would consider me one of the bad ones anyway. I came upon the chain-link fence that enclosed the skate park and walked in, dropping my board on the ground.
Skating around obstacles, I felt a little calmer as the wind blew against my face. The low ponytail I kept my hair in fluttered as I dropped down ramps and went over jumps. I was still intensely aware of how many people were around me, but I felt more untouchable when I was moving through the park on my board. The sun started to lower in the sky, and I slowed down to take a break.
“Hey!” Someone yelled across the park. My head snapped in the direction of the sound, and I saw a recognizable figure approaching me. This time, his jet black hair was brushed out of his face in a bun on top of his head. He’d cleaned up the blood that had been running down his mouth. There wasn’t any hiding how bruised his arms were, though. I stopped and watched him as he approached.
“Thank you, y’know, for earlier.”
I gave him a nod in acknowledgement. He seemed a lot more confident in this setting – his shoulders back as he stood up straight to face me, rather than hunched over as he’d been earlier.
“I’m Jeremy. It’s weird I’ve never seen you before – that’s
a nice-ass board and you skate like you’ve been at it for a while.”
I shrugged. “Thanks.”
Thinking back, I had seen him here a few times before – I’m always acutely aware of what people were around me. I didn’t tend to retain that information for later encounters.
“It’s Liz.” Giving him my name felt appropriate since he’d done the same.
“Sorry, I kinda brushed you off earlier, it’s just that every time I go to someone things get so much worse.”
Blinking at him, the gears in my head started to turn. I knew the signs.
“C’mere.” I said, nodding in the direction of a bench towards the back of the park.
He raised an eyebrow, but followed and sat down with me anyway. I leaned my board against the bench and sat cross-legged. He apprehensively set his board next to mine – his looked decent – not a cheap department store board, but not as polished and cared for as mine.
He was careful about leaving space between us when he sat, like he was trying to avoid sitting too close. His cheeks were slowly turning a light red. Retaining a stiff and straightened posture, he appeared more bashful than afraid. I chanced a few glances at his arms without him noticing. On top of the bruises, I could see random darkened circles along his forearms. They were small, and some healed over, but others looked fairly recent.
“Seems like you’re smart enough to avoid those shitbags outside of school.” I pressed.
He looked at me questioningly.
“So how’d you get those?” I gestured towards the burn marks.
Immediately, he shifted on the bench and pulled his sleeves down. His posture began to slouch and he covered his arms as he stared towards the ground.
“You really don’t miss shit, do you?”
I shrugged and pulled a blunt out of my jeans pocket and a lighter out of the other. Inhaling deeply as I lit it, I passed it over to him. He didn’t hesitate to take it. I exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke away from his direction.
“Mom or dad?” I asked, staring into the distance.
He exhaled and handed the blunt back to me before answering. “Mom. Dad left a long time ago.”
A nod. Without looking at him, I offered, “You can stay at my house if you ever need to. I know how it is.”
He looked at me, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. I didn’t think anyone had ever offered him respite before. Then again, judging by his reactions, it seemed he’d gone out of his way to not tell anyone either. How’d I get it out of him so easily?
“Th…Thanks.” he muttered. “You know what it’s like, huh?”
I passed him back the blunt after taking another drag, and shrugged as I exhaled. My chest wasn’t the only thing I hid with oversized clothes – scars marred my entire body. My head started buzzing with thoughts I didn’t want to listen to.
“How long have you skated for?” I asked as he passed the blunt back, wanting to get the attention off of me.
“Three-ish years? I was mostly looking for a way to get out of the house. How about you?”
“Six.”
“Damn, no wonder you’re so smooth with it.”
I chuckled a little. No one had ever referred to me as smooth before, in regards to anything.
“”What?” he asked.
“If you knew me, you’d never call me smooth.”
He looked me up and down before responding. “Can I? Know you?”
After taking the last drag of the blunt, I stamped it out on the ground and squinted against the increasingly louder thoughts in my head.
Get out before he really sees you.
“As much as anyone, I guess.”
Nodding, he leaned back into the bench. The sun was lowering in the sky, casting pink and orange across the clouds. Day crowd beginning to leave, I spotted a familiar figure in the back corner of the park.
Giving Jeremy one last glance, I stood from the bench, picking up my board. “I’ll catch you later.”
I put my hand up as a goodbye, and walked over to where the figure was standing. Checking my wallet, I found that I had a decent wad of cash, mostly from hustling the very same guy I was about to hand it back to. He was pacing around in the corner of the park, stopping to talk to the occasional passerby that called his attention. His focus barely shifted as I approached him and slid some money into his pocket. Handing me a small bag of white powder, he dipped his head at me while still talking to another guy. I put the bag in my pocket before turning to leave. Weed lifted the fog a little, but this would put a stop to the screaming in my head that had grown increasingly louder since I’d stopped skating.
It was dark at this point, time slipped by so quickly when I was like this. The streets were less crowded with cars on the walk home. A sour smell of gasoline still lingered in the air as I made my way down the road. After about a ten-minute walk, I arrived at a two-story house that was painted light yellow with white trim. I dug keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door, taking a step inside. The smell of stir fry hit me in the face as I shut the door.
“Hey, kid.” His voice was smooth and calm.
Seth always felt the most at home in the kitchen. Thank god, because Mom couldn’t even boil water. She always told me that her medical degree supported a lot of take-out and contributed to her lack of time to attempt cooking.
“Hey,” I muttered.
He slid a plate of the stir fry across the counter towards me. I didn’t feel like eating, but I was hungry from skipping lunch and Seth’s food always smelled so damn good. Leaning my board against the kitchen island, I sat down on one of the stools. The food was sweet and spicy and full of vegetables and herbs. Seth grabbed himself a plate and sat down across from me.
We ate in silence. It wasn’t that we didn’t get along – Seth and I actually had a pretty good relationship. Both of us enjoyed the quiet. He knew I didn’t like unnecessary chatter, and always took the time to focus on enjoying food when he ate. I finished while he still had half his plate left. After placing the dishes in the sink, I turned around and grabbed my board.
“Thanks,” I said while walking upstairs towards my room.
“Mm,” He answered back.
Opening the door to my room, I turned the light on. It was a floor lamp with a dim bulb. It illuminated enough of the room that I could see what I was doing, but wasn’t needlessly bright. I ran my hand along the glass of my fish tank as I walked by it. The tank contained my beautiful speckled white, orange, and black koi that followed my hand. Sometimes I’d just sit and watch him for hours. I loved the way the light bounced off his scales, reflecting golden sparks back into my eyes. After putting my board down in the corner, I pulled the bag out of my pocket and set it on the desk against my wall. From my dresser, I pulled a hypodermic needle, an alcohol wipe, a spoon, and a lighter.
I set the syringe on the desk and changed into pajamas. Afterwards, I sat down and picked up the bag. As I inhaled deeply, I prepared the substance for injection and wiped my left forearm with the alcohol wipe. I pulled back on the plunger of the syringe to retrieve a dose, then injected it into my arm. Getting up to throw the syringe away, I hid it under some trash in my bin along with the bag.
My bed was a slight modification on a window seat. It was tucked into the wall against a window; the space was big enough for an entire mattress rather than some small cushions. Shelves where I kept various books, snacks, and journals lined the sides. I got into bed underneath my large down comforter that I loved because it was heavy enough to give me some calming pressure.
The drugs weren’t an every night thing, I just used them on the bad days. I wasn’t trying to chase some unobtainable high. In fact, I’d tried various drugs that did give me that high feeling and I hated it. It would make everything go so much faster and while it dulled some painful feelings, I’d still get overwhelmed, and it would just magnify the stress I already felt. Opiates had a different effect – they made me tired, but everything would slow down. I’d slip into a sleep where I couldn’t remember the dreams. It felt like everything was on pause, if only just for a minute.