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im-trying-1 · 4 years

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Who TF Knows

Chapter 1 You know that coming of age, teenage novel where a group of friends hangout, go to highschool, fuck each other, and ultimately figure out who they are in the end?

Yea, well, that’s not what this is.

This is a story about me and my friends, who also have no idea who we are in the world, but we’re more diverse. So, if you want a story with a bunch of white, straight people running around acting batshit crazy, this is not the story for you. If not, then hi. I’m Scarlett. And this is a story about how fucked up life can be.

“Yo, Scarlett!” Tate called as I entered the bookstore we meet up at after school everyday. It was pretty empty today, because no one really goes to bookstores on a Friday afternoon. I walked over to our usual table and saw that all my other friends were there too.

I have five friends: Stephanie, Uriah, Tate, Henry, and Natalia. We aren’t your typical group of kids. We all have our issues. But who doesn’t, you know? We’ve all been through shit that we wished we hadn’t, shit that messes us all up in some way. The shit that we want to forget so badly, but it comes back to us whenever. We help each other through it though. We have to. No one else is going to help us.

“Come on now, make room for Scarlett,” Stephanie said, scooting her chair over so I could pull up a chair next to her. Even though it was seventy-five degrees in our small, southern California town, Steph had on a white cardigan over her pink striped blouse. I didn’t even have to guess at what she was trying to hide.

Stephanie has been my friend since we were nine. We had to do this project for science class and she was my partner. I always admired the way she looked. She had hair so blonde it was almost white, crystal blue eyes, and a nose so small it could fit on a doll. My african features could never let me have that. She had a soft way about her. Her ora was always warm and she never seemed unhappy. Even down to the way she dressed, was always light and full of life. She had what seemed like the perfect life. I was very wrong.

Steph had an extremely rough homelife. Her dad owns the paper mill just outside of town, so her parents are loaded. Having a lot of money doesn’t make up for the fact that her parents are dicks. When she was younger, her older brother would sneak into her room at night. She was six; he was eighteen. Her parents never believed her when she told them though, because her brother was the perfect child. He was the captain of the hockey team, he had a 4.0; he was their most prized accomplishment. They didn’t want to believe their star boy was a rapist. So they ignored it, like they did every bad thing.

Soon, her brother went to college, so she didn’t have to worry about him except when he came home from college. After we became friends, she would spend the night at my house, sometimes, when her brother came home. When she told me what he did, we cried together. She would say that I was the only reason she hadn’t ran away, that I was the only reason she was sometimes happy. I had a crush on her for the entire year of fifth grade ( along with every other boy in our grade ), but it didn’t matter. Steph just wasn’t attracted to people. She’s never had a crush that I can think of, not one she told us about anyways. And she tells us everything. Or so we thought.

“Oh my god, did you study for Mrs. Rosweld’s Chemistry test today?! I studied for it for, like, four hours, but I honestly feel like I failed,” Uriah asked as soon as I sat down. It was like him to worry about that kind of stuff, even though we all know he passed.

I became friends with Uriah in art class in eighth grade. We were supposed to make something out of clay, and he made a rose. I made a stupid looking heart. After class, he walked up to me and whispered to me, “Um, ex-ex-excuse me? Um, I- I- made this f-for Micheal Walker. Do you mind p-putting it in his locker for m-m-me?” I asked him why he couldn’t do it himself and he told me “I- I would but, uh, I don’t wa-want anyone to s-s-see me.” I stood there for a second, and told him to meet me at lunch by Micheals locker. When he met me, I stood watch as he put the clay rose in his locker. He told me, in his stuttering voice, how thankful he was for my help. I asked him if he wanted to eat lunch with me and Steph. And we were happy to have someone new in our small family.

Uriah came out in sophmore year, right after his dad left. He was never scared to come out to us, but his parents were a different story. They never talked about stuff like that in his house, so he didn’t really know what to expect. His mom was supportive, but his dad didn’t really say anything. They never talk about it. They barely talk at all. You can tell it kinda hurts him. But he distracts himself with his Yale application. Uriah’s the smartest one in our friend group; you can tell just by the way he looks. He has that classic ‘smart person’ look to him. His favorite thing to wear is a sweater with a plaid shirt underneath. Nothing about him was dark, though. Other than him being black and gay, he is your classic ‘nerd’ cliche. Neither of his parents went to college, so him going to Yale would be huge. And that puts a lot of pressure on him.

This one night, Uriah was walking home alone, and some homophobes rolled up on him. He was found the next morning, unconscious. He woke up that afternoon in the hospital, but they kept him another three days to run some tests. He only talked about what happened to the police; we never found out what happened to him that night. His injuries somewhat told the story, though. He had two black eyes, a broken nose, two broken ribs, bruises on all his limbs, his stomach, and neck, and cut on the top of his head. The only thing Uriah would ever tell us about that night was that it was the worst night of his life. They never caught who did it. He never stuttered after that. We could never figure out why. He had been going to speech therapy for years, and what finally worked was getting the shit beat out of him, I guess.

“I’m sure you did great, Uriah. Don’t worry so much about it,” Natalia said to him, while patting his back. He seemed to calm down a little, but he still had this worried look on his face.

Natalia was Uriah’s protector. Uriah went to a support group after what happened and he met her there. I guess it was some sort of “Got the shit kicked out of you? Hey, me too. Let's talk about it.” kind of support group. Natalia hardly ever went to the support group though; it was her first day there and she only went back to go with Uriah. Natalia was the strong type. She was the type to get in a fight and not back down until she won, was unconscious, or dead. She was tough. She had to be. She was in the foster system for a while, and that can be pretty rough. Her birth mom was an addict who couldn’t pay her bills so they took Natalia away when she was three. She told the fam she had been in eight different foster homes by the time she was twelve, and that some were good ( like, give you your own room type of good ), most were ok ( like, feed you, clothe you, keep the bills paid, give you a bed type of ok ), and some were goddamn awful. And I mean, sometimes feed you, lock you in your room, barely pay their bills, or worse, type of awful. Natalia barely got to see her birth mom. And when she did, her mom made all these promises about getting sober and getting straight so she can get Natalia back. And she believed her, up until they finally went to family court, and her mom didn’t show. And let me tell you, when your parent doesn’t show up for you, it is the worst feeling in the world.

We never saw Natalia before she met Uriah. I mean, we had been going to the same school for three years, and somehow never crossed paths. She didn’t have any friends, but she got by I guess. We had classes together, but before she never went to them. It wasn’t until Natalia met Uriah that she started to care. Care about school, her grades, the way she presented herself, her reputation. She was the loner and she looked the part, too. She always had the ‘ready to fight but still kinda stylish’ look to her. Her style and Uriah’s really clashed. They were best friends. They weren’t interested in each other like that, though. They helped each other like that. They were good for each other.

Natalia has this vibe she gives off. Before you get to know her, she’s very off putting. Her grimace that she wears around people is one of the main reasons. Another might be her piercing blue eyes that seem to know everything before you even say anything. Like her personality, her hair is fiery and stands out in a crowd. She seems intimidating and hard, then she finally opens up to you and you realize she’s an amazing person. She loves painting, and she is amazing at it. She once made me this mural for my birthday, and it is the greatest gift I have ever received. She’s just one of those kinds of people I guess. The ones you have to get to know to really love.

“Yea, man. I wouldn’t sweat it. We all know you’re Rosweld’s favorite. Plus, you’re, like, the smartest person at our school. You did fine,” Tate said, looking over at Uriah from his seat beside Natalia. This made Uriah smile a little. Tate sat back in his seat, content with himself for his accomplishment.

Plus, there’s Tate. Tate’s the party animal of the group. He’s the one you call if you need help sneaking out or hiding something from your parents. He’s learned all the tricks to getting past parents.He’s always the life of the party, though, even when he’s sober. He always wears these outfits that are very over the top and crazy, because that’s just who he is. He can make anyone laugh, doing anything. Except for his parents.

His dad is a very strict catholic and his mom left when he was eleven, so he also has his issues. His dad is away on business a lot, which we all know is bullshit and just an excuse to not be with Tate all the time. Tate thinks it’s because he looks so much like his mom, and that everytime his dad looks at him, he feels the pain of her leaving all over again. I, for one, think that’s a bullshit reason not to spend time with your family. But it’s not my place to do anything about it, so I just stay out of it.

We met Tate one night when we were walking home and he was passed out on the side of the road. Steph was scared he may be dead, but Natalia checked his pulse and informed us that he was alive, just unconscious. We took him back to my house, and my mom let him sleep on the couch in the basement. We sat down there with him so when he did wake up, we could explain to him that we hadn’t kidnapped him. He woke up, puked in the trash can we had sat next to the couch where he was laying, and almost screamed before we handed him some gatorade and explained the situation. He then thanked us repeatedly and texted his dad to tell him where he was. We then asked him why he got so fucked up and he said “because my life is shit.” That’s when we knew we had a new friend.

One of the main reason’s Tate is the way he is is because he needs attention. Even before his mom left, she was barely around, much like his dad is now. He craved her love and attention, but she could never give it to him for some reason. He always blames himself, saying he should have tried harder, that maybe if he had tried harder she would have stayed. Not having a mother has been one of the worst things for Tate. Natalia was able to tough it out; she barely remembers a time she was with her mother. But Tate remembers the heartbreak of her not wanting him. So he parties. To forget, to try and get her attention, so she might care at least a little, at some point. He drinks and does drugs to try and numb the pain. Because that’s all we all want, is to numb the pain.

We’ve only met Tate’s mom once: at his sixteenth birthday party. She showed up two hours late and only stayed for an hour, but it meant a lot to Tate that she was there at all. When people say Tate looks like his mother, that’s an understatement. He is the exact replica of her. The dark curly hair, the freckles, even the way they walk is the same. The only thing different about them is their eyes. Tate has dark brown eyes that are always laughing, always full of laughter and joy. But his mom’s are full of sadness and anger. That’s the one thing Tate didn’t get from his mom. His personality.

“Look, Uriah, I did NOT stay on FaceTime with you to help you study for FOUR HOURS for you to doubt yourself. You did not fail that test, and on the off chance you got less than a 90, I will personally go up to Mrs. Rosweld and cuss her ass out because we earned that motherfucking A,” Henry said firmly, before bursting out laughing. Uriah looked surprised for a second, then started laughing with him, which caused us all to laugh.

Then there’s Henry. Henry was the mom of the group. He was the one who took care of us, no matter what. We met Henry the same night we met Tate. He and Tate had been best friends since kindergarten, so he was the person Tate usually called when he needed a ride. He was always there for every one of us, in any situation. If Natatlia got into a fight, the first person she would call to come pick her up and get her all cleaned and bandaged up was Henry. If Steph ever needed to get out of her house because her brother was home for the weekend, Henry would figure something out for her to do that weekend. He was the one who was always quiet when we were venting about our problems, who would always listen to the tea Tate would spill about the party he had just been to. He was just there for us, with whatever we needed.

Henry always had this sense of calm to him. It was as if, just by being around him, you instantly just felt better. You could never be upset around Henry because he just made you feel better with his energy. He always understood everyone’s problems, and he always tried to figure them out with us as if they were his own. He gave the best advice and was the wisest of the group. No one could understand it, though, because he had an amazing home life. His parents were lawyers and some of the nicest people I had ever met. He grew up an only child, so he always had the spotlight. His dad couched all his little league teams and his mom always made brownies whenever we came over. They were the white picket fence, poster family. There was no way anyone could tell that something awful was happening in that family.

“Anyways, does anyone wanna go to this party later with me? It’s at J.T. Wiliam’s place ‘cause his parents are out of town for the weekend. Anyone?”

“Sorry, Tate, I would but I have to finish my portfolio,” Natalia answered.

“Oh, yea, how’s that going? You’re still going to show it to us when you're finished, right?” Steph asked.

“Yea, whenever I finish. Mrs. Willis is making me do all these chores so I barely have time to paint anymore,” she responded.

Natalia was applying for art school in the fall and she wanted to get her portfolio finished before summer starts so she can focus on this art contest she entered into. She still has no idea what she’s going to make, but it’s not due until August, and she’s procrastinating.

“Yea, I can’t go either, Tate. I have to study for the SATs,” Uriah said.

“It’s alright. Steph, how about you?” Tate asked Steph from across the table.

“I wish I could, Tate, but my grandparents are visiting from Italy and my mom’s making me at least stay for dinner. I might be able to meet up with you after, though, if I can sneak away.”

“Wait, Steph, is your brother gonna be there?” I asked, consurned.

“No, he couldn’t make it, thank god,” she responded.

“Wait, do you want me to come over for dinner, Steph? I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can go,” Henry offered.

“Oh my god, yes, Henry that’d be amazing. Thank you so much!” Stephanie exclaimed.

“Well, I’ll go with you, Tate,” I said, knowing Tate was getting disappointed.

“OH MY GOD! YES, THANK YOU SO MUCH, SCARLETT! YOU WON’T REGRET THIS, I PROMISE,” Tate practically shouted.

“Yea, I’d better not,” I mumbled.

We stayed at the bookstore for another hour or so until Stephanie said she needed to get home. She asked Henry for a ride to her house and they left. Then Natalia and Uriah left ( Natalia doesn’t have a license so Uriah drives her everywhere ) and it was only Tate and I left. Tate proceeded to tell me that I needed to change before the party, so we headed to my house. If I had known that that was the last time we would all be together, I don’t know what I would have done differently.

***

Tate drove me over to my house and helped me find something to wear to the party. We settled on an AC\DC vintage tee-shirt, my Doc Martens, and a pair of ripped jeans. It was the perfect punk look, which is what Tate said the theme of the night was. Tate does this thing sometimes where when we go out, he gives us themes to dress like. One night, the theme was “hawiian chique” and we all had to dress like either hula girls or corney hawaiian tourists. So we were just walking around, all night, looking like fucking steryotypical hawaiians in the middle of October. It was very embarrassing. But we do it to make Tate happy.

“Hey, we should probably get going if we want to get food before we get to the party,” Tate said, looking at his watch.

“Yea, ok,” I said and grabbed my bag. We left my room, raced down the stairs, and walked into the kitchen where my mom was.

“Hey, Mom, we're gonna go now, ok?”

“Yea, that’s fine. Make sure to call me if you need me to pick you up.”

“Alright,” I said, walking around her to the back door, “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie. You be safe, you two. Bye, Tate. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mrs. Eyther. I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Tate and the group’s moms to say ‘I love you’ to each other. We were all a family, so Tate just adopted our mothers and they adopted him. I think that’s what kept him from not totally going insane: a mother telling him she loved him.

We listened to punk rock the entire way to Carla’s Diner ( just to stay on theme ) and we both ordered burgers with a double order of fries. We talked about who would be at the party, how long we were planning on staying, and other party related things before we both went quiet for a second.

“How are you doing, Scarlett? Really?” Tate asked, in a concerned voice to break the silence.

“What do you mean?”

I knew what he meant.

“Well, I mean, Monday is May 1st. How are you feeling about that?”

I sat there for a second. How did I feel? I mean, I felt sad. But not as sad as I usually did when May 1st rolled around.

“I don’t know. I’m hanging in there, you know? I just…..I don’t know,” I responded.

“Well, you know I’m always here for you if you want to talk right? Anytime.” Tate put his hand on mine.

“Yea, I know. Thanks, Tate.”

“Of course, babes. Now, hurry up and eat your burger, woman, so I can get to this par-tay!!”

***

We got to the party and upon arriving, I could already tell this was gonna be a night that I either remember forever or don’t remember at all. We walked in and were immediately greeted by two very drunk teenage girls in very short skirts. The lesbian in me wanted to stay and talk to them, but as the good friend I am, I walked into the basement with Tate so he didn’t accidentaly kill himself on xannys. J.T. was down there and greeted us. He handed Tate a joint and then offered it to me.

“Uh, no thanks, I don’t really handle weed well.”

It was true. One time I smoked with Tate, and I got really trippy. It was probably the worst experience with illegal substances that I've ever had. Then, I saw a bottle of tequila.

“Now, this is more my type,” I said, looking at the label.

“I thought your type was busty blondes,” Tate said with a smirk on his face.

“Haha,” I mocked.

Tate and I have this inside joke from sophomore year. Basically what happened was we were at a party and Tate caught me staring at this one girl. He then walked over to her and told her that I liked her hair. I don’t remember much of what happened that night, but I do remember making out with her for at least an hour.

“Yo, Scarlett.”

I turned around and saw Tate was already tipsy. He was sitting on the couch in between two girls with a vodka bottle in his hand. I walk over to him and he stands up abruptly.

“WHO WANTS TO DO SHOTS?!” He screams.

The rest of the night is a hazy memory of shots, stripping, and cherry chapstick that I don’t remember too well. At some point, I remember getting a phone call from Steph, but when I called her back later, she said it was nothing. So I didn’t worry about it. I should have.

I drove Tate home, because there was no way he could get home by himself. I then walked the block to my house. I don’t mind walking home, especially after a party like that. It gives me a chance to think. And with May 1st about to roll around, I needed that time.

I got home around 2 in the morning and my mom was watching TV in the living room.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby. How was the party?”

“It was great, thanks. How was your night?”

“Oh, I had some fun. Watched the TV. Did Tate get home alright?”

“Yea, I just dropped him off. Mom, I’m feeling pretty tired. I’m gonna go to sleep.”

“Ok, sweetie, well I love you. Sweet dreams.”

“ ‘Night, Mom. Love you too.”

I walked up the stairs and was walking down the hallway to my room when I saw the door at the end of the hall that we usually keep closed was open. I walked in and was instantly hit by the scent of dust. I looked around and took in what was my sister’s room. Her One Direction posters were still on the wall, her bed was still unmade, her room looked just the same it did on that May 1st, almost two years ago. I sat on her bed and smelled her pillow. It still smelled like the shampoo she used. I layed on her bed, just trying to remember her voice, not knowing that in about two hours, my entire world was about to come crashing down, just like that day.

#chapter1 #writing #firstchapter #who tf knows #triggerwarning

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