Sunshine (2 page)

“I’m fine. Sit down in the cafeteria and I’ll come and get you when I’m done.” I turn away and start walking.
All I have to do is make a left, then there are two more left turns, cross the hallway once and I’ll be there. Easy.
I’m about halfway through the second left turn when I feel like the ground is made out of some kind of slippery substance made especially for me to crack my face on, but everyone else has no problem walking on it. I hug the wall the rest of the way there. All I have left to do is cross the hallway. It should only take me about three big steps.
One: Doing good.
Two: Almost slip on something, but I’m still good.
Th— Damn it.
Someone slams into me, sending my bag and me flying, causing my tailbone to come in hard contact with linoleum. I decide the best thing to do in this situation is try to find my junk and get to the bathroom before I throw up, seeing as the unexpected landing has made my stomach angry at me.
“Are you okay?” I hear a concerned male voice say from above me. I’m guessing it’s the person who bumped into me.
I ignore him.
“Hey,” he says.
I feel something cold touch my shoulder. As soon as I realize that it’s a hand, I shove it away. That makes my head pound and my stomach gets worse. I see the wobbly outline of him kneeling down next to me, gathering my stuff into a pile near me. The swaying, blurry person only makes me dizzier than I was before.
“You could have hit your head. Do you want me to get a doctor?” he asks.
I try not to smile at the irony of this, and shake my head no. My sunglasses slip down a tiny bit. The guy gasps. I guess my eyes are all red and puffy. Pushing them back into place, I grab my pile of miscellaneous purse contents from him and throw them back into my bag.
The same cold hand touches my shoulder, I’m guessing to help me up, but I pull away before he can. I stand all by myself. “Maybe you should see a doctor,” he says again.
“No,” I finally answer.
Then we’re silent as I smooth out my jacket and adjust my bag.
“I’m really sorry,” and he sounds like he is.
Now I feel bad. He didn’t mean to knock me over. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. Anyone else would be grateful that they were being helped.
But I’m not anyone else.
“Do you want me to help you get somewhere?” he offers.
I don’t want to go anywhere but to the bathroom then home to sleep until the sun just completely burns out. “I’m fine,” I say, trying to keep my breakfast down. But he’s trying to be nice and everything. I can’t just leave to vom without saying anything to him. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“No problem.”
Now there’s no time for talking.
Sometimes, your body has complete control over your mind, over what you do. Sometimes, you just
have
to do what it says because it will do it anyway. Right now my body is saying,
Either you go to the bathroom to throw up, or you throw up all over this complete stranger.
So I casually feel behind me for the bathroom door, open it, chunk, and black out.
I wake up in the back seat of my car; Jade is driving and blasting Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees.” It’s dark outside and the windows are slightly cracked open.
“Woah. How long were we at the hospital?” I ask.
“Oh thank
God
! You know, Mom is so going to kill me when she finds out that I almost let you drown in your own projectile.”
Oh crap.
I glance at my face in the rear-view as I sit up. My sunglasses are still on, so I carefully peel them off. My face is swollen, like I got stung by a million bees. My eyes themselves are so watery that I can barely see, not to mention I feel like crap on top of it. I lie back down so I don’t throw up again.
“Please tell me you did not tell Mom,” I say.
“No, you think I’m stupid?”
I sigh and relax a little bit more.
“If it hadn’t been for that guy bumping into you and telling a nurse you were in that bathroom, you would have been there forever.”
“So how long was I passed out?”
“They thought it would be a good idea to watch you for a little bit, so you didn’t like, I dunno,
die
or something. So about twenty minutes before they said you were just sleeping from the painkiller and I could take you home.”
“I was fine,” I say after a while.
Jade smiles. “Yeah.” He only says this to make me feel better, but it works.
Stevie and Jade let me stay in their spare room for the night. Partly because it’s closer, and partly because I don’t want to go home. So as I snuggle into the blankets that smell a little dusty, I think. Thinking can be good. Or bad. Sometimes thinking can amount to absolutely nothing. But I think nonetheless. I don’t care if there is a cure, Christ, I don’t care if he tells me he has Robert Smith over and they want to play a game of cards; there is nothing wrong with me and I’m not going back to that doctor ever again.

Chapter 2
Enter Mom
“
Remember when we were all so beautiful? But since then we've lost our glow.”-AFI

When I’m awake, I slowly open my eyes.
Nothing. It takes me half a second to realize that I’m not blind, but there’s sticky note stuck to my forehead blocking my vision. I peel it off and manage to read it, but my eyesight is still blurry.

Sunshine, you look like a train wreck. Your mom called. Boy is she Piiiiiiised. You better get your ass home. I’ll talk to you later to see how you are. I love you.
—Stevie.

I fall out of bed, fighting with the blankets and pillows to get up. The clock reads eleven. I find one of Stevie’s white painting shirts, speckled with various colors, and throw it on. I wear the same jeans from yesterday. I don’t flick on the light as I go into the bathroom to wash my face. I turn on the water, look in the mirror.
My eyes seem okay, just a little bit more blood shot than usual. The rest of my face looks horrible. Everything is red and pink and in some places it’s almost purple, making my green eyes stand out against the swollen skin. At least the sunglasses will cover most of it up.
I dress in my anti-sun-gear and drive directly to work. No need to anger Momzilla just yet.
The good thing about working in a book store in the mall is that it’s quiet. Plus, it’s the last Saturday of the summer; no one wants to be stuck inside.
It’s three in the afternoon before anyone walks in. It figures that it’s Boo and Trei who have absolutely no intention of buying anything. But after hours of mind numbing boredom, I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am to see my best guy and girl.
Boo and Trei’s parents, when they were younger, were trying to escape their strict Korean parents and so they turned to the path of non-conformity. So Mr. Phan met Miss Phan at some hippie thing and they fell-madly-in-love-and-felt-one-with-the-Earth and saw-moonbeams-in-each-other’s-eyes, or whatever.
They used to be all, down with the man and flower power, and sure how ’bout we let our kids pick their own names when they’re old enough to talk? That has
no
negative consequences. But now they’re just like everyone else’s parents. Divorced.
So that’s Boo, as in Peek-a-boo, and Trei, as in…Tree. My two best friends. We met in kindergarten, where we sat at a table together with some weird kid that liked to shove random things up his nose.
I go to “stock shelves,” which is code for talking to my friends and
pretending
to stock shelves. “Sophie, are you okay? Why are you here, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Boo asks without even taking a breath. He brushes his straight black hair out of his face and it sticks to the back of his head, making him look like Elvis for a split second.
“Will you leave her alone?” Trei scolds. “Can you blame her for coming to work? Her mom would kill her if she saw her like this.”
I’m guessing they talked to Jade today.
“Well, yeah, look her face,” Boo agrees.
“Wow, you guys make me feel so beautiful, I should become a model or an actress,” I say.
“Are you going to school on Tuesday?” Boo asks, ignoring my awesome joke.
I look and feel like crap and still came to work just to avoid my mother, why would I skip school—the place where you sit down for half of the day?
It would be so nice to sit down. Maybe this headache would go away
“Uhm, Yes,” I say it like he just asked me the most insane question.
Boo continues our conversation as I walk behind the register to sit. “So does your mom know what happened?” Boo asks.
“Not unless Stevie or Jade told her.”
“Are you planning on going home tonight?” Trei pulls a loose thread from her brown peasant skirt as she asks me. She doesn’t like anyone fighting.
“Maybe,” I answer.
Three teenagers walk in: two boys and one girl, but they’re probably just browsing. I pretend to work, wiping imaginary dust off of the counter. The girl has light lavender hair that falls to the middle of her back that I wish I could pull off without looking like a total albino. One of the guys—who I guess is her brother at first, but by the way they’re holding hands I guess he‘s her boyfriend—has short, almost white hair. He’s also super-giant tall.
The other boy, who must be their third wheel, has dark brown, almost black hair that’s shorter in the back, but his bangs fall in his face every now and then so he has to swipe them aside. And he has these light blue eyes that I don’t think I have ever seen on anyone before. What’s weird about this guy is that he’s almost as pale as I am.
I’ve never seen that before either.
The girl walks straight up to me and I whip out my reserved-for-the-customer-smile. “How can I help you?” I ask
Her skin is slightly tanner than her friends’ and her eyes are a dark cobalt blue. Her lips are almost a perfect upside down heart shape, the cupid’s bow of the upper one indented in a V. “I was wondering where the poetry section was,” she says.
“Isle three,” I say to lavender blonde, who gives me the biggest smile.
“Thank you, Sophie,” she says.
“Uhm, you’re welcome, but…” She walks away before I can ask her how she knows my name. I sit down again in front of the register and start doodling to distract myself from the weirdness.
“Do you know her?” Trei asks me.
Boo leans against the wall behind my counter.
“No,” I say. “I’ve never seen them before. Maybe they’ve heard of our band. You know, maybe they’ve heard us play or something?”
Maybe they’ve heard rumors about me.
“Oh, yeah, like at our cousin’s wedding where we played nothing but Mariah Carrey covers, Sophie? Or was it that two year old’s birthday party where we covered the Telletubies’ greatest hits?” Boo asks.
“I don’t know,” I snap, getting a little pissed that he would bring those things up. “It’s possible. Or maybe they heard you practically screaming my name.” I guess that one makes sense. Boo’s got a big mouth.
Instead of apologizing, he changes the subject. “What time is it?”
“2:30”
I get off at four, so I curse under my breath.
“Well, we’ll see you later. We’ve got clothes to buy for school.”
I promise them I’ll call so we can hang out one last time before school starts and then they leave.
Now I’m bored and my eyeballs are starting to feel dry. I sit and stare at the clock and zone out until there are only fifteen minutes left of my shift. Good. I can go home and sleep. My head is killing me, and my stomach isn’t too much better.
I’m surprised when I look in front of me again to see the kid with the brown hair staring at me. I guess I’m pretty good at zoning. I thought I was alone in the store.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “Ready to check out?”
I ring up his things without looking at him. Anyone else would do the same thing if someone they didn’t know was staring at them like they have five heads because they’re wearing sunglasses indoors.
His friends are behind him, the two blondes smiling at me. Great. I must look like a circus act. The girl nudges the one at the register. He ignores her, pays for his things and I finally have to look at him to give him his bag. His ocean blue eyes are staring at me, which is no surprise. Then the inevitable question comes out:
“It’s a little dark in here for sunglasses, isn’t it?” His voice sounds nervous, unsure of himself. His friends probably put him up to it.
I know I shouldn’t answer. I should just ignore him, but I say, “For some people,” under my breath anyway. I’m thinking the reason he’s smiling now is because I’m an insane looking girl with pink hair wearing industrial shades indoors who is now talking to herself.
“Thank you,” he says as he grabs the bag from me before I can give him a real answer. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just smiles and leaves.
The girl turns to me and says, “Thank you for all of your help.”
“Anytime.” I force a smile.
Then her and her glued to her hand boyfriend leave.
Good.
My head hurts worse now.
The only thing I want to do when I get out of work is slip into my pajamas and close my eyes in my dark room. I can hardly see straight as I’m dragging myself up the stairs, ready for hours of sweet, sweet, sleep.
My door is open. I never leave my door open.
When I go inside I see my mother in my closet, dressed in a way too short red dress, throwing all of my clothes around. All hope of slumber is shattered. I just know it.
“Don’t you have anything decent to wear?” she shrieks. I’m not sure if she’s asking me, or if she’s screaming that loud for a different child in Canada to hear.
“Why?” I ask quietly, trying to make my way past her thin frame to get to my bed.
“Because you skipped out on dinner last night, we’re going out tonight instead.”
Oh yeah. My Step-Dad, Adam got a promotion at the insurance place he works for.
My mom met him seven years ago. He was looking for a clown to host some un-orthodox seminar, and my mom was looking for a clown for my sister Laura’s ninth birthday. They both had appointments the same day with the same clown, because crazy things like that just
happen
sometimes. They got married not long after that. Then they had my baby sister, Leena. They fell in love over balloon animals, and he’s probably been miserable ever since. But he’s been my replacement dad since I was about eleven. That part is cool.
Anyway, we were supposed to go out last night to celebrate his promotion. I’m sure he didn’t mind that I was sick and ruined things. I’m sure he won’t mind if I go to bed now. But she will, and everyone in Canada will know it.
My bed is just in my reach. I have an idea to crawl under my covers anyway, pretend I’m deaf and can’t hear her or something. Somehow, I doubt that would work.
“Mom, I really don’t—” I start.
“And why are you wearing those sunglasses in the house?” She turns toward me; her tennis bracelets make clinking noises as she places a hand on her hip. “You look like a freak.”
I take a deep breath, preparing myself to explain to her everything. If I’m going to do that, I have to do it all in one breath. Really fast. “Mom, I had an allergic reaction to these eye drops they gave me at Dr Helmet’s and now I have to wear these stupid sunglasses around any type of light.” I try to make myself sound strong, yet totally bummed that I have to mess up her image by protecting my eyes. The last part is just acting. I really, really, love messing it up.
I’m not sure when my mom became this way. When she stopped caring, stopped believing me.
Maybe it was when I was seven and told her I wanted to be a princess, maybe it was when I was nine and told her about my piano teacher being a little too friendly, maybe it was the fact that I was a constant reminder of the mistake she made by pro-creating with my real father.
The one I’ve never seen.
But I don’t get much of a response besides, “You’re going.”
So I’m dragged to the fancy restaurant, despite even Adam saying that I didn’t have to come if I’m not feeling well. My mother dresses me in the only thing that she deems decent enough to wear.
A dress she bought me shortly after Jack and I broke up. She didn’t buy it to boost my confidence, like a normal mother would have, she bought it for me to go and get Jack
back
. I thought I’d thrown it out, but it was stashed in the back of my closet somewhere.
It’s white with different colored flowers all over it, and the sleeves cover my shoulders so that my back and some of my arm tattoos are covered.
Of course this ensemble would not be complete without my shades that I cannot take off.
Adam sits next to me and my mom sits on his right side, or his spending arm, as Boo, Trei, and I joke. Laura sits next to her, and Leena, my five year old half sister, sits on the other side of me.
“Will you take those ridiculous sunglasses off? It’s enough we couldn’t find anything else to cover up those disgusting tattoos,” my mother complains with a fake smile.
“I told you, I can’t take them off.” I stare down at the silverware in front of me.
“That is such a lie and you know it,” Laura, Mom clone chimes in.
She too, is wearing some fancy dress. To be honest, I couldn’t care less what shade of look-at-me-pink or I’m-better-than-you-yellow it is.
“I will say it one last time,” Mom says calmly.
“Look, if take them off, there’s a good chance that I’ll go blind,” I cut her off.
“I believe Sophie,” Leena speaks up in her tiny voice as she stabs a carrot with her fork. Her light orange eyebrows knit together as she concentrates.
I love my baby sister.
“Shh!” Mom scolds.
“I believe her too,” Adam says loud enough to shut her up, but not so loud that he draws attention to us. Mom shoots him a look. A few freckles play on Adam’s cheeks when he smiles the only way I know that can stop Mom in her tracks.
How does he do that?
“I’m just saying that we shouldn’t let Sophie’s bad day turn in to a bad night.” Then he winks at me so Mom can’t see, like he’s saying,
yeah, I got this.
“How are you feeling Shoph?” Adam asks after a little while. One of his dress shirt covered arms wraps around the back of my chair.
I mean to answer, but I’m too dizzy so I nod. I have to cradle my head in my hands just so the room will stop spinning, and Mom starts complaining, saying I’m embarrassing her and to get my elbows off of the table. The last thing I remember about dinner is trying to get up to go to the bathroom to puke, but I trip over my combat boots and I assume I pass out not too long after.
I wake up at home in my bed, wishing that I could stop waking up in places that I didn’t remember going myself. “I told you she was sick,” Adam’s muffled voice says from outside my door.
Mom huffs and then stomps in her heels down the hall to her and Adam’s room. Then sleep finally grabs onto me and doesn’t let go.