Phia's Fragile and Fantastic Fingers || ONC 2023

The Conference Room

Ghostbusters ends and we turn on Bridesmaids. We're halfway through a no-emotions-necessary movie marathon when Mercy gets off the floor.

"My butt hurts," she announces. Then she takes her tablet from my lap and heads toward her bed.

The butterflies that perpetually live in my stomach when it comes to Mercy wake up in a flutter of spastic wings. It's stupid, I know it's stupid, but that's the point, right. Unrequited love is stupid and painful, and when Mercy pulls the fluffy duvet off her bed and nods me toward the soft mattress, it's also perfectly lovely.

I struggle off the floor. The linoleum isn't kind and the few pillows we gathered before sitting down didn't do much to change the fact that we were essentially sitting on colorful concrete.

Mercy's bed. Okay, Mercy's bed. 

Mercy wraps herself in her blanket and scoots close to the wall. I'm trying to figure out the least worst place to sit when she opens her arm and offers the place next to her.

"Like old times," she jokes. "Remember when we all used to fit under Penelope's ugly purple blanket?"

"The itchy ugly blanket," I say. There's a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I'm trying to act natural and I'm trying not to cry. My fingers are hot and sticky. I'm not going to tell Mercy that I'm going to find Penelope, but I'm going to find Penelope. Then we can get her itchy purple blanket back out, and then maybe I'll still have a friend around after Mercy and John leave me.

I sit on the edge of Mercy's bed and then, because I'm a masochist I slide in next to her and let the warm blanket wrap around my shoulders. Mercy taps play and snuggles in.

The movie feels longer now that I feel every twitch of my body and every slight shift of Mercy's.

I don't like having to think so much about where my body ends and another person's begins. My breathing cannot be normal.

"You okay?" Mercy stops the movie, probably ten minutes from some dramatic climax. She shifts and our bodies separate. It feels like peeling duct tape off. It hurts like hell. I was almost okay when I was in Mercy's arms, but also stressed.

"Why are you here with me instead of cuddling John watching movies?" The words leave my mouth before I can process how stupid they sound.

"Because John's fine and you're the one who needs a friend right now," Mercy says it matter-of-factly, like she's explaining why the sun came up again. It's not, but I don't know how to explain that it's not.

"You do get that I care about you right?" Mercy fumbles around with her blanket to free herself and turns so she's fully facing me.

I glower, because she doesn't care about me. She cares about John and having a nice Harvard golden parachute when she gets out of YEPP.

"Phia?" Mercy's left eye squints like it does when she's trying to get a mission director or, more often, me to tell the truth. It's her lie detector eye twitch.

I'm halfway to a moody growl before I manage to stop myself and say,

"Why do you say you care about me when you're clearly planning to leave with John and never look back?

"What?" Mercy doesn't sound mad, just confused.

"The SATs," I say. "You're taking them so you can go to college. John's powers are disappearing, so you're going to leave with him."

"Phia, I'm not going to leave with John. Yes I have plans to go to college, but not right now."

I snort. She's really laying it on thick.