VII. Muzzle

I kept to myself for the remainder of the morning. I mean, I talked to Christy and Becky during class switch and told them what happened. How I was going to have to spend my noon time sitting in a small room with Josh. We all thought it was kind of funny that a week before, it would have been perfect with just the two of us together; well, with a teacher or someone from the office looking in on us, but we'd still be near each other.

I played like it was no big deal but, I was dying on the inside. I wanted to cry and let my make-up go everywhere because I was miserable and as much as misery loves company, Josh wouldn't want to remember the things we did, it was like those pages were ripped out of his heart, rolled around some tobacco and burned away.

I didn't expect them to understand. I mean, I treated our relationship in different ways. I wanted to look like an equal to him and to my friends--that we this badass combination who didn't talk about the lovey-dovey shit. But inside, I wanted the lovey-dovey shit to be what made us. I wanted to feel protected, I wanted to feel like the beauty...but I felt more like the beast...or better put, the bitchy beast. I had to, it was how to survive in the real world.

Which was why life sucked at that moment and I spent my last lunch of freedom wallowing in that suckitude. Christy and Becky tried to raise me up from the cesspool.

"That blows. Spending noon...I mean, did you tell Mr. B what he wrote?"
"No proof, he'd deny it." Christy said as she took a bite of a carrot.
"I wanted to, but then we would have to talk about everything; get our parents involved--"

Josh's mother, Peg, was not someone you wanted to get on her bad side. She was very capable of making your life a living hell if she was your friend, or at least the friend of your mother's. She one time yelled at Josh for not opening the door for me; he simply yelled "it's open!"
She tore him down for a few minutes and then turned to me saying that I needed to wait for a man who would be respectful to me and do the small things like opening the front door, or letting me decide on what to do at times; and to demand that I never let myself be put down by anyone. As much as I liked to sayI appreciated her lecture, it went through one ear and out the other. Respect? Teenagers? Seriously?
Please.

However, there were times that I wanted to go see Peg and thank her for the fricking great job she did with Josh. Gold star for you, bitch!
"His mom will have a crap fit." Christy smirked.
"Yeah, and she'll make him apologize to me in front of the entire family."
"And Chastille, if she's there."
"I don't think they even know about her."

"They don't," Becky said as she swiped a carrot form Christy. "She probably sneaks out by climbing off the roof."
Josh's room faced the school and it was positioned over a small deck with a slanting roof that went down to an alcove on a brick wall. It was not easy to climb up, but one could get down without being heard if you went discreetly, were light enough, and no one was in the kitchen at the time.
I didn't want to involve Chastille in anything. I didn't care about her, she didn't do anything to me so...
"I think she wrote that on the blackboard," Becky said as she looked around to see if Chad was around.
"It was kind of neat hand-writing," Christy said.

None of us were in the same classes as Chastille so we had no idea and I didn't want to think about her more than I had to. I wanted to keep her as the outsider...that maybe she was innocent in all of this and didn't know a thing. That he just grabbed her by the ass that day and said, "you, with me" and, because of how she was, just accepted it.
Yeah, that was horse shit.
"We should go talk to her," Becky said as she cracked her knuckles.
"Yes, we should," I replied.
"Really?"
"Yes. Just to talk....for starters."

Chastille was difficult do find. She hung out with a different set of people--different by meaning I didn't know any of them. I had been going to Reardan for two years, there were only four classrooms in our hallway and I didn't really know a third of them--because I didn't care to. I was never going to go out for the position of ambassador, class president or a cheerleader so why would I care to get to know everyone?
We found her sitting on the floor in front of her locker, like she was asleep.
I stood in front of her for a few seconds--almost not wanting to disturb her.
"Hello, Cherry," she said with her eyes still closed.
"Chastille?" I asked with the upmost, happiest tone I could muster at the time.
"What can I do for you?"
"Just wanted to talk to you, if I could?"

Actually, I really wanted to get her to stand up and then pummel her into the lockers, Rebecca Petty style. I had to time it right, otherwise, she would be able to overpower me.
Her eyes slowly opened, as if she was on downers or hd taken a hit off a bong. Her eyes and expression had that 'I don't give a flying fuck about a thing right now, but what'cha got?' look.
"Is this going to be about Josh? Becuase, if it is...I really don't want to get into anything." She looked down the hall. "Crap!"
We all turned to see Mrs. J walking in our direction.
"What are you girls doing?"
"We were heading outside. Chastille wanted to sit down and--"
Christy and I grabbed Chastille by the arms and hoisted her up.
"She was up all last night, boyfriend issues."
Mrs. J looked at the four of us with a slight scowl. She wasn't buying it. She could clearly see Chastille was stoned and since we were with her we were all guilty by association.
"I have to pee," Chastille announced loudly.
Mrs. J rolled her eyes. "Miss Bergeron, please."
"We'll take her, Mrs. J," Christy answered with her best "I'm innocent, I swear" voice.
I kept my eyes on Chastille. I had seen that blank expression before.
It was pot.
And she probably got it from Alex.
We pretty much carried Chastille into the restroom and slowly lowered her to the floor as it looked like she would swoon and crash to the tile.
She had a stone-faced smiled and laughed as she walked into one of the stalls.
Becky and Christy motioned they were leaving and walked out the door.
"You're still here, Cherry?"
"Yes."
The thought of pummeling her head into the porcelain tile wall slowly faded.
"Josh is kind of nice...he has his days."
I wasn't sure if she was joking or if they had been seeing each other behind my back.
"He can be," I replied.
"He kind of misses you."
I threw my head back. What was that supposed to mean?
"Do you know what happened?" I asked.
"No, not really. Don't really want to. You know?"
The toilet flushed.
I turned back to the mirror and took a quick shot at my reflection before looking away. My eyes were red and about to explode in a stream of tears.
The stall door opened and Chastille walked out without toppling over.
"Guys can be assholes," she said as she adjusted her blouse.
"Yeah. Yeah they can."
I tried to avoid looking at her and the mirror.
"You can't let them get in your head too much. You'd lose that glow you kind of have."
"Glow?" I asked as she washed her hands.
"Oh yeah, shine on you crazy diamond."
"Okay. Thank you?" I asked she wiped her hands on her jeans and opened the door.
"Don't mention it. Oh, and tell your brother thanks."
She left the restroom and me with a lot of questions.

Christy walked back in.
"You didn't pop her one?"
I shook my head. "I couldn't do it."
"Why not?"
"There wasn't a reason to, she--Christy, do I have a glow?"
"A what?"
"She said I had some kind of glow. Probably the pot talking."
"She was stoned?"
"Oh yeah,"I replied as we left the room.
"Cherr, you do know what that term means, right?"
I really didn't care about guessing games, but, since it wasn't a "four letter word" I admit, I didn't know what it meant.
"That she thinks I'm high too?"
"No."
"That I'm nice?"
That would have been great. I mean, I had my rough edges and since Josh had for some reason made it is mission to make sure I looked like a royal bitch in front of everyone it would be good to have more people in my corner or at least have someone who was neutral.
"She means she thinks you look pregnant."
"You're kidding?"
"How often do I kid?"
"Damn," I whispered--as I wished she would crack a smile and say she was just messing with my head. But there she was, her expression looking like someone had jabbed a few rusty knives and a spoon into my chest.
"How have you been feeling?" She asked as we walked outside.
"How am I supposed to feel?"
"You feel sick?
"I always feel ill-" which was half a sentence.
"-At life does not count. I mean, really."
"I've kind of thought maybe--People glow?"
Christy only nodded--even though I wanted her to continue asking questions so I could think about everything but at that moment that danged "rock a bye" melody entered my mind.
"I have to find out," I said as I moved my hands to my abdomen but then quickly moved them away--as I wouldn't want anyone seeing me
"There you two are. I had to like outrun Mrs. J, twice."
Becky ran towards us, she was out of breath and slammed her arm on Christy.
"Becky-" I started.
"Don't ask-" Christy tried to cut me off.
"Am I glowing?"
"Are you what?"
"Do I have a glow?"
Becky looked to Christy. They both exchanged glances, like some sort of interpretive dance with their wyes before Becky looked at me.
"Oh my God. No, are you serious?"
"I hope not."
"You're probably not. Chastille wants you to freak your out," Becky replied.
"Yeah, maybe it's like a mind game."
"Sneaky bitch."
"Just don't think about, Cherry. She probably did say it to mess with your head."
Then congratulations were in order, as she had succeeded.

I looked across the field, to where the eighth and seventh graders were. We didn't have "recess" but we had to spend our noon time outside on the upper field where you either played touch football, tag or walked and gossiped...or sneak into the equipment room and, and recall the reasons why one suddenly felt sick. There was an outside chance that everything was just all in my head; a side-effect of yelling at Josh that I thought he was a fucking lowlife by not talking to me and having Chad as his messenger boy. He had the nerve to say that my family was conceited, conniving and crazy.

Crazy? Badge of honor there.

Conniving? You have to keep your head above water, right?

We have never been conceited—we barely had shirts on our backs, we couldn’t put on an illusion “we’re better than thou art” if we tried.
I guess we were kind of like the moon: always around…and strange things happened whenever we were around.

Muzzle