The Boiling Point

Chapter 4:

The Boiling Point

Reese

I can’t believe I did that. Mariah never cried in front of me. Not even when we were eight. I remember once when we were little, I beat her in a board game and she looked like she was about to cry. But instead, she went to my room and cried for about five minutes. Mariah has always been a sore loser.

I feel so bad for doing what I did, but I couldn’t help it. It just rolled off my tongue like spit. I really wish I hadn’t. Now I just feel like a dick.

Over the next two days, I beat myself up for Mariah not being at school and knowing it was my fault.

If only I could not have gone to her. I should have just gone to bed. And none of this would have happened if my parents hadn’t been fighting. I ran my hand through my dark brown curly hair, feeling remorse. I felt like s**t when I walked into sixth hour because Mariah wasn’t there and once again, I knew it was all because of stupid a*s me.

Mariah

I’ve lied curled in my bed for the past two days, not eating, only drinking water, bathing myself in ice cold water thinking I’ll relieve some of my problems. But it didn’t. I also tried writing my problem on my arm in whiteboard marker and showering it all off, but of course, we all know that your problems don’t really go down the drain with a smelly whiteboard marker. I checked my Facebook wall at an average of every hour and more hateful comments were put up.

On Thursday morning, Amy came into my room. “You can’t just mope and sleep all day, Mariah. You have to go to school and don’t let that stupid boy hold you back, okay?”

“Okay,” I said nodding and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. So far, Reese has come over every day to give me my homework. I didn’t give him the cold shoulder, but every time he asked me if we could talk about it, I’d slam the door on his face and escape back into my room. I walked over to my closet and put on lacy red pantie and a lacy red bra, hoping to feel confident and strong today, then, I stood over in my pants section. After a minute of standing there, I chose white thread jeans with silver rhinestones on the back pockets forming an ‘M’ for Mariah. I put the ‘M’ on myself. When I went to my shirts, I chose a green and white striped shirt. It was a mix of vertical stripes and horizontal stripes.

I stepped into my bathroom and examined myself in the length mirror on the back of the door. So far so good.  I then looked at my face and it was not pretty this morning. My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, crying, and stress. I just put a little saline in them and was just going to wait for them to clear up. For my make-up, I used a bottle of coffee colored liquid eyeliner by Elf and Maybelline Classic mascara. I then put on brown eye shadow, also from Elf and began to brush my teeth. After brushing them while singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in my head twice, I put on some lip gloss and a small amount of burgundy lipstick which I though looked good with my caramel complexion. I then moved onto my hair, turning on my waver by Revlon and evenly smoothing heat serum and anti-frizz in my hair. By the time I was done combing my straight raven hair, my waver was heated. I kept the heat on each piece of hair for six seconds.

When I thought I looked acceptable, I went back to my closet and slipped on a pair of white Toms. I then put lotion on my arms, stomach, and neck, grabbing my backpack and racing out of the door, snatching two peaches from the table on my way out.  Why’d she have to do this to me? I was perfectly fine sleeping in my bed and crying with the occasional cup of coffee.

I went to my 2001 Toyota Corolla and crawled in,  pushing my keys into the ignition, I put my backpack into the passenger seat. I pulled into the student parking lot and parked my car. I scooped my backpack onto one arm and my peaches in the other hand.

Reese                        

I had my eyes on her as soon as she got out of her car. She hurriedly walked to her first hour building I’m assuming and walked in.

“… and b*****s want to get on my dick all the time. You know what I’m sayin’ man?” Avery tapped my shoulder.

I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, so I nodded my head and said, “Yeah. I’m going to have to excuse myself.” I said, walking away from my group of friends towards the 2000 building. Here I come, Mariah. She’s probably going to slap me or something. I really don’t know what I was thinking when I did that.

First hour was only homeroom, so we never really did anything, so when I saw her walking down the corridor, I grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her into a nearby bathroom. “ I really have to talk to you, Mariah.”

“F**k you,” she spat, wrenching her wrist from my grasp.  “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t told. Now who’s getting bashed for nothing?” I didn’t say anything. “Yeah, I think we can all say that it’s not you, Reese.”

“Just hear me out,” I started, not really knowing what to say, but wanting her to know how sorry I am.

“I’m really sorry. I wish I never did it and I--” I stopped talking. S**t, I didn’t know what to say.

She took a bite out of her peach and said, "Well? And?"     

“And I regret it,” I said, blowing out a breath and scratched the back of my head.

“That’s it?” She asked, eyebrow rose. I nodded and ran my hands through my hair. “You’re pathetic.”

She turned around and left the bathroom, dropping her peach in the trashcan.

I’ve. Fucked. Up. Royally.

Mariah

What type of pathetic excuse for an apology was that? Did he really think I was going to accept that s**t? I walked into my homeroom. My teacher glared at me for being late and I just dismissed it, walking to my desk. “Hey, it’s Reese’s b***h. What happened to you? Anal hurt too much ?”

“F**k off,” I told her, giving her the finger. I plopped down in my chair and go out my book. I was reading one of those 70s pocket book historical romances. I was more than relieved when the bell rang for first hour.

I walked out and walked quickly to second hour. The rest of the day went very fast.

And so did the next month and a half. I thought I could put up with the hurtful promises and such, but it’s gone on for too long and they’ve gotten worse. It’s started to hurt more than the time my turtle died. I loved the slowpoke. I went home one day and got on Facebook. Why do I even bother anymore? I went to my wall and took note of what things people have said about me today. I decided to go through all my friends and delete them all. Except for my true friends. Or friend. I now had 56 friends. I then went to go delete someone else when another post caught my eye.

It said: I saw mariah on the corner of 18th 2day leaning over the car if ya no what i mean!

That pushed it. It had 24 ‘likes’. Oh. My. Gosh. The tears sprung to my eyes almost immediately and I would not even dare let one drop.

My phone rang and I looked at the screen through blurry eyes. Unknown Number. Who could it be? I answered it and put the phone to my ear. Trying my best to sound like I’m not trying to hold in tears, I cracked out, “Hello?”

“I’m at your door.” The voice was easy to place even though I hadn’t heard it in over a month.  I deleted another ‘friend’ and the page refreshed. The rumor post about me being a hooker had a comment on it.

It said:

From Reese Corvetti: Are you sure it wasn’t your mom, Casey?”

I went to the door and swung it open. And who was there? None other than Reese Corvetti.