Click to Subscribe - By L. M. Augustine Page 0,27

Bad. Just bad.

As soon as school ends, for once, I don’t wait for Cat to get out of class so I can walk home with her. I run the distance all myself, not once slowing. When I’m home, I trip up the staircase and stumble into my bedroom. I slam the door shut behind me, sit down on the edge of my bed, and bury my face in my hands.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What have I done? I want to cry again. In fact, I can feel the tears glistening in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I can’t let them fall. Not now. Not anymore.

Sure, Cat and I have fought before. Actually, we’ve fought a lot. Whether it be which color M&M is the best (blue, obviously), if one of us cheated at a game of FIFA, or even whether I should go out with Renne or Jessica (long story), screaming is not a rarity between us. But this fight… this one was different. It was too sad and desperate. It felt more like the end of something than a true fight, and I just hope this “something” is not our friendship.

God, I really screwed this whole thing up. I just want to punch something, or break down the wall, or whatever it is that will make me feel better and a hell of a lot less alone. Of course it had to turn out this way. Of course the instant I start to feel vaguely happy again after Mom’s death, things go to hell. I run my hands through my hair and kick myself in the ankle. Why can’t Harper just be real and Cat not love me and Mom come back to life and me and Cat to go back to how things were before? Why does this shit have to keep happening to me? I’d even give up my vlog for Cat. Hell, I’d give up anything for us to be back to normal again.

To me, Cat is the sister I never had. We know everything about each other; we mesh like fire and wood. So how did we screw this up? Because of love? Love? Aren’t we supposed to embrace love? People spend their whole lives searching for it and never finding it, so why is it that the instant I get a little taste of it, it screws me over? Isn’t it supposed to be a gift, not a curse? Not something that hurts this damn much?

The worst part is that I don’t know if I love Cat. I need her like I need a place to live, like I need a way to express myself. I can be myself around Cat, no judgment, and she can do the same for me. I’ve never smiled more than when I’m with her, and even when she was Harper, I still couldn’t stop smiling. Is that what love is? What Cat and I have? I have no freaking idea how to tell.

Then another thought hits me: how come I was so sure I was in love with Harper before I knew she was actually Cat, and now that I know she was my best friend all along, I’m suddenly not sure? She’s still the same person, right? So does that mean…?

I cut off the thought before I can let myself finish. It isn’t like that, and I know it.

I let myself slip back in bed. The truth is, I’m scared. I don’t know if I love her, but I also don’t want to love her, because loving her will mean losing her. And losing Cat… well, without her, I’d have nothing, be nothing.

“West!” my zombie of a dad growls from downstairs, interrupting my thoughts. “Dinner is ready! Hurry up.” Translation: “I’m hungry so go make me some fucking macaroni and cheese while I sit and read this newspaper for the millionth time. I’ve had a tough day of doing nothing.”

I sigh, close my eyes, and stumble down the stairs. I walk into our old, falling-apart kitchen, and I’m sure the dark circles around my eyes are entirely evident. Sure enough, my dad sits at our tiny kitchen table, his feet on the counter, a beer in his hand, and no dinner ready.

“Make me something good,” he says and takes a drink. I can smell his disgusting scent, some mixture of alcohol and pure evil, from here.

“Of course I will,” I mutter under my breath, “because what else would a son be for