Under Her Skin

Chapter 24

Sunny's pocket dinged. Twice. She let the TV turn off and fished the phone out of her jacket. Without thinking or choosing, Sunny's thumbs ricocheted over the screen.

Josh: Hey

Josh: How are you

Sunny: like you care.

Josh: Woahhhh

Josh: What's going on

Sunny: nothing

Sunny didn't bring up the talk with Tate. It still made her angry to think about it.

Josh: You good?

Sunny: fine

Josh: I was thinking we could hang out today

Josh: Haven't seen you in a while.

Josh: Hellllloooooo?

Josh: You there?

Josh: I miss you.

Josh's words intruded or heedlessly barged their way into the calm bovine space inside Sunny's heart. Even though the words came from Sunny's phone and lit up on her lap, it felt like a bite-size piece of him was here. She didn't understand why Josh texted these things instead of calling. Was she supposed to make the first move? Or would calling be too aggressive and raise the stakes in their relationship.

Sunny: I wish you did.

Josh: Ok. What's going on

Josh: I've been busy with school, you know that

Sunny: ya, right

Josh: I'm sorry hun.

Sunny: don't call me that

Josh: ?

Josh: I'm coming to your house now.

Sunny: no need.

Sunny slipped her phone into her pocket without saying goodbye to the cold, precise, characterless messages.

***

The next day, Sunny woke up to abdominal convulsions, which felt like something rough and compacted slicing her insides. It hurt a little, then a lot, and was like a tectonic plate inside her mantle, grinding and acting up against its own rocks. Sunny made do with Lyssa's heating pad, and by lying on her side, moaning like a seal. Pain became the priority, which was good because it cleared Sunny's mind from all thoughts and feelings. In what category of pain did this belong? She asked herself as she swallowed three Tylenols. None. There was no category for the pain of being a woman. Rank your suffering on a scale of one to ten, Hiram came and asked. Sunny just looked at him like, Why are you even here?

Every so often, Sunny changed sanitary napkins, rolling them into snowballs and stacking them on top of each other like legos in the trash can. With convincing, Lyssa made her go to school in the afternoon.

Mrs. Lennie asked a question. A nerdy brown kid had the answer and shot his hand up into the air. The teacher saw it, nodded up and down, but pointed at Sunny. Sunny shook her head, she didn't know. Mrs. Lennie called her to the board.

"Remember to show your steps." Sunny was dead. Sunny was screwed. "Tied hands or do you just not know the answer?" Sunny looked at her feet awkwardly. Mrs. Lennie was a bitch. The teacher scoffed and said, "Who wants to help Sunny do this problem? Devon? Great." God, please let this moment be over.

Sunny looked at her with red laser eyes that burned her chocolate forehead. She hated her for being the person she was supposed to be. Devon scribbled numbers and equations across the whiteboard. Then, she capped the marker and nudged Sunny with her ashy elbows. Mrs. Lennie smiled at Devon, who fluttered her eyelids and returned to her seat. Sunny pulled her lower lip in between her teeth. I could tell her stomach was sizzling like an egg on hot concrete. The Kitties were right: she is a bitch.