Natalia

“What’s your greatest weakness?”

I freeze. The teacher is smiling at me expectantly. What’s her name? Didn’t I just learn her name? Stupid Get-to-Know-You games. My classmates all are waiting and I stare at my teacher. What had others said? Some girls had winked flirtatiously and announced “boys.” The guys had mostly rolled their eyes, slouched in their seats, and grumbled “math.” I try to spout one of these but the words won’t come to my mouth. What is my greatest weakness? I know, but I can’t tell her. I won’t tell her. I bite my lip and shake my head.

“It doesn’t matter.” I murmur, “Not anymore.”

The others give me the look you give strange people when they say strange things.

Thanks, Natalia. I think. You can’t even stop ruining my life when you’re-

“Thank you, Trisha.” The teacher, Ms. Collins, that’s her name, says with forced brightness, “Please have a seat.” I bite my lip again and sit down.

Almost immediately, the whispers start.

***

I collapse onto my bed. That was a disaster. First days of school usually are in my experience, but this was the worst.

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins.” I growl. “Thank you, Mom.”

Although moving schools was really my idea, I like to blame it on Mom when I’m annoyed. It’s totally my fault though. Actually, it’s totally Natalia’s fault, but who cares?

“Trish, dinner!” I sigh as Mom’s voice floats up the stairs to my room.  I bite back a sarcastic remark. I am saving them all for the major fit I plan on throwing at dinner, and the wafting smell of creamy mashed potatoes that touches my nostrils is too incredible to ignore. I stand, crossing to the mirror in my room. Yea, I look like I have been crying, even though I totally haven’t. Just close to it. I start to turn away.

That’s when I see it.

I freeze. I stare at that reflection and see the horror come over my own face. On my dresser, there is a flash of brilliant white against the black paint. Purple, flowing ink shows words I wish I could unsee.

I turn slowly and move to the dresser like I’m in a dream. This is a dream. It has to be a dream! Please, please, let it be a dream. I don’t dare to pinch myself for in case it’s not. I stop and stare at it. It’s the letter all right. My hands shake as I pick up the thing that started all this.

The note is simple and short. I feel a sob rise in my throat as I reread the words from eons ago.

I’m sorry I stabbed you. I love you.

I bite my lip to hold back my scream as I fall into my flashback.

***

I hurt. My side ached, even after I had wrapped it and taken roughly eight painkillers, I usually was able to hide the pain from my mom, but as I reached for the salt, my entire side erupted in agony and tears filled my eyes.

“Honey!” Mom gasped, startled. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t tell her the truth. The knife would land closer to my heart next time if I did. “Me and Natalia got in a fight today.”

My mom got that disapproving, worried look she adopted when we talked about Natalia. “I don’t think she is a very good friend, Trisha. Do you have to hang around her?”

I look at her and I want to tell her so badly. I want to explain that Natalie is really my only friend, that she is the only thing that makes me popular. Without her, I am one of those geeky losers that get shoved into lockers when jocks walk by. I want to tell her that if I’m like that, Jason wouldn’t look at me twice.  But I can’t. I just give her a weak smile.

“I love Natalia, Mom.” I lie, “She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Which is not a lie. I force a laugh. “She’s probably the only thing keeping me from getting beat up in the hallways.”

How very, very ironic that is. Mom will never know. I bite back a cry as I lift my fork and my eyes haze over in pain again.

“Besides,” I manage to murmur, “she told me that she’s sorry.”

***

I can still feel the ache in my side as vividly as if it happened yesterday.

“Trish, I’m waiting!”

I snap out of it and grab the note, stuffing it in my top drawer. My Secret Drawer. That name turned out to be more accurate than I ever wanted it to be.

***

“Hey, girl.” I started as a meaty hand landed on my shoulder. As you can probably imagine, they did not actually say ‘girl.’ Instead it was a series of words I hadn’t ever heard at church.

I turn. “What?”

At first I am not sure if it’s a boy or a girl. Judging by the fact that it was flanked by multiple feminine cronies and it was definitely not attractive enough as a boy to have a fan club, I decided it was a girl even less graciously endowed than myself.

She gives me a condescending look and appears to hold back a laugh. “Didn’t you and Jason Demure have a thing?”

I am so shocked I stammer. “Uh, I don’t… a little. I mean, not really.” He just kissed me. But how did that follow me here?

She laughed crudely. “Yea, that’s what Natalia made it sound like too.”

She looked hard at me. I felt my mouth open, working, but I couldn’t speak. A chill shook my entire being with so much force the jerk rose her eyebrows. Finally, I find my voice.

“How did you know Natalia?” It comes out sounding casual, shocking myself.

She gave me a disbelieving look. “We were friends? Duh?”

I nod. “She had a lot of friends.”

The girl’s face clouded over in an even more unattractive way. “I was her best friend though.”

Please no. Please, please no, I don’t want another Natalia. I would…who knows what I would do?

I push past her. “She had a lot of those too.”

***

Melissa.

That was the girl’s name. Natalia’s ‘best’ friend. Natalia had never even said her name.

She found me in the hallway three more times, always with the same loving greeting she had given me before. I didn’t respond. Once she shoved me. I scurried into the closest classroom. I had learned long ago how to hide from an attack.

I am amazed at my bad luck.

“Is this some kind of a joke, God?” I mutter. Actually, it seems likely. A joke. Or a punishment. I didn’t realize how much trouble I was in until dinnertime.

We were eating silently, which is normal. The steak and potatoes were amazing, which is also normal. But as I delved into my potatoes, I spotted something that was anything but normal.

“What the-” I stopped myself as myself as Mom’s startled eyes met mine. “-heck did you do to the potatoes, Mom? They’re amazing!” Mom beams and goes off about some new spice, but I can’t take my eyes off the bracelet staring me in the face.

Mine and Natalia’s friendship bracelet. And, attached to it, a note in Natalia’s purple print, the untidy scrawl of a fourth-grader.

I know what you did.

It takes all my energy not to faint.

***

Melissa is waiting for me outside the doors. I slow down but don’t stop. There are no teachers around, and I know I can’t hide from her. I have to go inside or I’ll be late and they’ll call Mom.

I try to walk past casually. “Hi, Melissa.”

“Hey, Ho.” She grins cruelly at me, but it looks more like she’s baring her teeth. She moves in front of me.

I sigh. “Melissa, let me go inside.”

She grins again, unmoving. “I don’t like to be told what to do.”

“Really?” I shot back, “Then how were you friends with Natalia?”

Her face became a mask of fury. “Shut up! Don’t you talk about Natalia like that!” She moved closer. I had to fight to not take a step back. “You were there, weren’t you? When she died? Do you know what people are saying? They are saying you were involved.” Her breath on my face is foul and I feel vomit rising in my throat.

Why not? I think suddenly, and in a moment it is out.

Melissa stared at me in horror and fury, a string of expletives coming from her mouth as she looked at her soaked blouse. I wipe my mouth, my knees shaking.

“You look lovely in yellow, Dear.” I manage to gasp before I run into the school past her and collapse in one of the nearest bathrooms.

 I think suddenly, and in a moment it is out.

Melissa stared at me in horror and fury, a string of expletives coming from her mouth as she looked at her soaked blouse. I wipe my mouth, my knees shaking.

“You look lovely in yellow, Dear.” I manage to gasp before I run into the school past her and collapse in one of the nearest bathrooms.

 I think suddenly, and in a moment it is out.

Melissa stared at me in horror and fury, a string of expletives coming from her mouth as she looked at her soaked blouse. I wipe my mouth, my knees shaking.

“You look lovely in yellow, Dear.” I manage to gasp before I run into the school past her and collapse in one of the nearest bathrooms.

I know I’m dead. Maybe I can get Mom to change schools again. No, this is the only one around for at least fourty-five minutes. I wait for Melissa to reappear all day, jumping at everyone who brushes me and checking each hall before I go in. It is probably the worst day of my life. Actually, no. Not even close.

I hurry home after school, awed that I am still breathing. As I open the door I see a note on the table and freeze. But the pen is black, not purple. I approach it slowly.

Sorry, I had an emergency meeting. See you at 9:00. Love you!

I sigh in relief, then check the clock. Only 4 ½ more hours. I pick up the notebook and head to the fridge. A larger note is scribbled there.

Trish, look at the table. There’s a note there.

“Thanks, Mom.” I mutter. “I already saw it. You just assumed I’d go to the fridge first and foremost. Got it.”

I pull it down, grab a soda, and turn around. Another note is on the table. It must have been under Mom’s original one.

“Seriously, Mom?” I grumble as I go to grab it. Then I freeze. The pen is purple. It’s not the flowery writing she adopted in high school, but a more messy scrawled hand of a third-grader.

Trish, come play with me.

I remember how excited I had been that Natalia had invited me over. That was before.

I pick it up with trembling hands, letting my Mom’s notes drop to the floor with my soda.

Who was leaving these? Who had found them? I kept them all in my Secret Drawer…had they been to my room? Were they here now?

This last thought pricked my spine with chills. I looked up slowly. “Hello?” My voice cracks. I glance down at Mom’s note. 9:00 stares up at me. The thought of Mom dominates my frantic mind. She can’t know.

I grab the note and take the stairs two at a time. My hand brushes on something. I know what it is before I see it. The purple on white glares against my eyes like it always did.

Party tonight. 8:30. Scary movie. Jason will be there.

I rip it off and hold it in a sweaty palm. I stumble on the top stair and stare at the three slices of white and purple on my door.

I’m sorry I hit you. You’re my best friend.

I didn’t mean to hurt your ribs.

And the last one. The last note she ever sent me.

I’m not apologizing any more. I’m sick of your crap. You don’t deserve Jason. I’m going to kill you.  

I put my hand on the doorknob and there those words are, right in front of my face. “I’m going to kill you.” I choke back a sob as the pain swarms over me, the pain of all her slaps, her kicks, the cuts, the bruises, washes over me. I remember every one. I remember every one.

I throw the door open and the sob comes out as I see what is waiting for me.

Notes. All the notes. All the notes she ever gave me, all the ones I wrote but never took over. They cover my walls, my dresser, my bed. The only thing untouched is the mirror, reflecting more, more, more notes. Natalia’s words drown me in horrified glimpses as I stare at her past in the face.

Best friend. 

Love you.

 I’m sorry. 

Come play. 

Jason.

Hit. 

Slap. 

Kill. 

Kill. 

Kill.

The word echoed over and over again in my mind and I can hear her say it, see her face, her fury that night. That terrible night. I fall to my knees.

Natalia. 

Kill. 

Kill. 

Kill.

I sink into darkness.

***

The flashbacks are coming. The pain is coming. I can tell. They attack in an instant, tearing me apart, leaving me helpless.

The day I met Natalia.

The first time she had me come over.

The secrets we shared.

The first time I saw her cry.

The first time she hit me.

The first time she introduced me to Jason.

The first time I had ever been kissed.

When I hid from her in classrooms.

Laughing with her in the lunchroom.

Cowering as she hit me.

The notes. The notes.

That note.

I come inside her house, not bothering to knock. We’ve known each other too long and I don’t want her to know I’m there for as long as possible.

But she is waiting for me. She is alone, her parents gone on vacation. She stands, her voice and eyes cold.

“Did you get my note?”

I nod, wordlessly holding it up.

“Good.” She snarls. In a moment she has crossed the room and struck me with so much force I fall down. She grabs something off of the bookshelf. A trophy. She slams it against my head, screaming in rage. I gasp as black spots cloud my vision. She hits me again.

“I told you I’d kill you, Trish!” She shrieks, lifting the trophy again. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” She raises it again, but then a noise deafens us. Her mouth flies open, her eyes wide and shocked. Something warm splatters on my face but I don’t scream. She falls to her knees, her face close to mine. I hear her take a last, shuddering breath, then she doesn’t move.

I drop the gun, rip the gloves off my shaking hands, and sob until the police come.

I told the lies I had planned. Someone came into the house, hit me, and shot Natalia. Her parents were rich and no one was supposed to be home. Believable. Believable.

I went to the funeral. I cried, I dressed in black, and I put a flower on her grave. But I had never felt more at peace, more safe in my life.

I thought I was safe.

***

I woke to darkness, foul breath, and a gun pointed at my head.

“Good morning.” I started at the familiar voice.

“Melissa.” I tried to say, but my throat was too dry. I shuddered as she spoke again, her voice high and grating.

“You never really know who your friends are, do you Trish? You don’t know if they’re your friends…or your enemies.”

I stared at her. Did she know? Could she possibly know?

You’re  tied to a chair in the girl’s basement. Pretty sure she knows.

I wet my lips. “What do you want?”

She laughs, nails on chalkboard. “So cliché, Trish. I expected something better from someone as smart as you.”

“What-” I begin again, but she holds something up that stops me. I feel a wood chip lodge in my throat, blocking all speech as I stare at the thing that started it all.

I’m sorry I stabbed you. I love you.

“You were smart, weren’t you?” She growled, “You burned the gloves and told the police a robber shot her. Explained your bruises and your hysterics, right? But I know.”

“How?” I whisper.

Melissa sneers. “I was there, Ho. She said she didn’t want me to see her crazy neighbor because she could be violent. She was protecting me. She had no idea how violent you could be, though.”

“She hit me!” I plead, “You saw her hit me!”

“It was provoked!” Melissa snarled. She seemed to calm a bit. “Well, now you’ll know how she felt.” She levels the gun at my head.

I tried to whisper, “Melissa, please,” but it comes out as “Natalia.” This was how it was always meant to be. I wasn’t meant to kill her. I was meant to die. I knew she’d kill me someday. Now, it was going to happen.

Suddenly, I heard loud noises from upstairs thumping. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. A door above me flew open, flooding the room in a brilliant, blinding light.

“Melissa!” A woman screamed just as the explosion of a gunshot filled my ears for the second time. Pain exploded in my entire body. I was vaguely aware of the screams of several more gunshots, then nothing at all.

***

“Trish, would you hurry please?”

“Yes, Mom.” I call out, checking my makeup in the mirror one more time. I nod and turn, looking over my new room. It was perfect, even better than the last one. School wasn’t terrible either. A hundred miles can do that for you. Today I would check out church for the first time in two years. I backed up so I could see if the bulky cast on my arm looked stupid. A little, but there was nothing I could do. I put on a smile, feeling truly happy.

I am happy. Even with Melissa. That was a funeral I didn’t attend. After she shot me, she attempted to kill three police officers her mother had called when she heard me moaning downstairs. The officers had returned fire, and Melissa was as fortunate as Natalia.

I felt a great sense of peace. For the first time since fourth grade, I wasn’t afraid. I could even make some real friends now.

I turn to the door and put my hand on the knob. There is something in the crack. Curious, I reach for it and pull it out. I unfold it slowly, then can’t stop the scream the erupts from my mouth. I drop it like poison, but it floats the ground face-up, like some other-worldly warning. The purple writing from so long ago stares up at me as I fall to the ground.

I know what you did.