~The Reaping ~

Part Two

I sat in the booth across from Desirae wondering what I’d done to warrant the backlash I received daily. I didn’t entirely comprehend the idea of clicks.

I’d known I was a part of a group of popular people on campus. Everyone knew me. Everyone liked me.

I learned Spanish to be able to communicate and hang with the Spanish kids. I learned sign language to hang out with the deaf kids at the Flagler School for the Deaf. I knew English, so I got along well with all the non-bilingual kids. I didn’t leave anybody out of my hellos and have a nice days. I never treated anyone unkindly unless they provoked me. I rarely got into fights. Again, provocation was needed for that. Usually, it took quite a bit of goading to get me started on a downward spiral.

Then, Aubrey’s face from this summer flashed before my eyes. Had she provoked us? I often questioned if what I’d participated in this summer was anymore warranted than my present ostracism.

I remembered Liz’s last words to me. Stay away from my boyfriend, she’d hissed like some deranged cobra. I never understood her. How could she even want someone so far away from her. Let’s not even talk about the fact that she was calling me telling me to stay away from him. What about him? He was the one who knew about their relationship far more than I did. Lizbeth was the one who evidently didn’t trust her boyfriend. If I had to defend my relationship from over three hundred miles away, I didn’t think I’d want it. But that was just the way I saw it, I guessed.

It was simple for Leo and I to find ourselves falling into a flirtation with one another, and that was all it was. It was an innocent game of words and hungry glances. I adored Leo, and God knew I wanted more from him, as much as he wanted from me, but I wasn’t about to go there when he was with Liz. To me, going there would have been wrong on so many levels.

I had talked to Mom about how I felt about Leo and his relationship with Liz, and she’d said, “None of y’all are married. He’s a boy not an object. He doesn’t belong to either of you. I think it’s up to him who he chooses. Don’t you?”

In my mind, he’d chosen Liz, and I would only be the friend. It would always be that way with us, I thought.

My mind kept racing, incessantly, going over everything. Images, sounds, places, voices, scenes: all raced through my mind. It was as if my mind was a hamster on an out-of-control wheel, destined to forever run-in place, never going anywhere. Or, maybe my mind was the mouse continuously pushing a button, seeking cocaine. Only my obsession was information, forever out of my reach and never forthcoming.

“What did I do?” I asked Lilah.

“You mean to tell me, you don’t know?” her tone indicated I should at least have an inkling.

“She should keep her mouth shut sometimes. Maybe she wouldn’t be in so much trouble.”

I watched Lilah elbow Desirae in the side to get her to shut up.

“You know that’s not true, Dessie. Our mouthy friend over there did something much worse than run her trap, according to the gossips.”

“If you know, why won’t you tell me.” I was starting to sound like a toddler, a wine had crept into my tone, but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. The girls won’t be able to help spilling the beans, I’m sure.”

“Screw you guys.” I stood from the table and took my breakfast tray to the window.

I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, but I’d learned my lesson about crying in front of other people the year before. Tears weren’t tolerated and they stopped being cute or reasons to cuddle when I was a little girl. I’d be damned if I’d stand in place, tears showing for the ones who hurt me to see. It was a lesson, Aubrey hadn’t learned. She didn’t have to tell anyone what she’d been feeling, it shown on her lovely face for everyone to see, but I’d be stoic until I got to a bathroom or behind the closed doors of my dorm room where no one could see me fall apart. I wouldn’t give these bitches the satisfaction, I thought.

But the mornings were just the start of it.

Throughout the day, I somehow ran into doors with the help of large hands, slamming doors into me. I was scraped up by the brick of outdoor walls with the aid of broad shoulders shoving me into them. Slaps pulls, and pushes were becoming my new normal. I felt like a pinball being slapped, pushed, and buzzed around by nearly every person I encountered throughout the day. I didn’t fight back because I usually didn’t have a chance. Majority of the time, I wasn’t even aware of who had pushed, shoved, or slapped me. I was attacked from behind, through the thickness of a door, or in lighting I didn’t see well in.

There were two main culprits that I could identify, but I was too afraid to tell on them. Suddenly, I understood why Aubrey hadn’t fought back that summer. The shame of it all rolled over me like waves cresting the shore. Even not understanding where the vitrail came from, I felt I deserved it. I was convinced of my sin, and I basked in my punishment, living through it and enduring it alone and in silence.  

I felt like my life had become one of loud silence. The only thing I heard were the continuous sibilance of hisses. I saw lips next to ears, hands covering the sides of faces. I heard whispers just loud enough for me to hear the sound

of an S continuously rolling in the air. It always felt like walking through a pit of seething venomous vipers, snapping at my heels, buzzing in my ears. Their fangs embedded in my heart. And through it all, I saw Aubrey’s solemn brown eyes, tearstained cheeks, and frowning lips. There in the memory of Aubrey’s misery, I saw myself, hand hiding whispering lips, eyes bright with vicious pleasure in her pain, sitting in judgement of her and doing nothing to stop the bitterness covering her like slime. And then, I understood why she so readily forgave me in those stolen moments that I pretended to be her friend in front of my mother. Her words sang like a symphony in my mind.

You’ll reap what you sow. Aubrey had whispered the words while hugging me.

I saw the bright eyes of the girls who’d sat across from me at breakfast and who held all the answers to the corruption of my soul, and nearly started to laugh. They knew, and I was learning. Oh, what a lesson to come wrapped in the same bile I spewed all over another. What will come next? I wondered this as I walked away to shed my lonely tears and face the hoards of whispers, shoves, and slaps I so rightly deserved.

Thank you for joining me for another part of Cassie’s story. It’s not over yet. We haven’t gotten to the end. Will Cassie get a happy ending? Do we think she deserves one? She certainly doesn’t think she does anymore. Sadly, as teenagers we do things we regret and can’t take back. Did you ever do something you regret? Did you ever take up for yourself even when you felt you deserved a little push back for something you did? Share a little of your story with us in the comments. I always enjoy hearing from you.

Till next we meet, stay well & keep creating!

CSA

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