Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

042. Freeze-Frame

042. Freeze-Frame

At Aquino High, it's the end of an era.

I'm halfway home when I slam on the brakes and make a U-turn.

For the past ten minutes, I've been driving with knuckles white from anger and teeth gritted so hard my jaw is aching.  Street lights have flashed before me as blurred circles; I barely hear the other cars on the road or the radio.  And then I realize: why should I have to sit here and simmer in my anger?

And so my make the drive back to Liam's house, cutting the time it takes to get there in half because my foot keeps inching harder on the gas pedal.

Once there, I park on the side of the road a few houses away—the street is already filled with cars—and sit in silence for a few seconds.  Over and over again I tell myself that no matter what Taylor says to me, I can't let him back in my life for any reason.  He's guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty.  This conversation is for closure only, to figure out why he did what he did—if he even has words to explain it at all.

When I'm satisfied that I've convinced myself enough, I open the door and step onto the curb.  The couple of minutes it takes to walk to Liam's lawn hurt my feet, but I grit my teeth harder against the pain.  The loud music and raucous laughter that I can hear as I climb the driveway seems so trivial to me right now.  I know what it's like: a glistening life of perfection on the outside, but a gnawing, overbearing pressure cooker on the inside.  Maybe I'll never be able to escape my position on the inside, but at least now I know I'm a better person for it.

It only takes me a few minutes to find Taylor.  He's on Liam's lanai, smoking a cigarette alone and staring out into the dimly lit backyard.  When he hears the porch door open he turns around with raised eyebrows.

"There you are," he says.  A breath of smoke clouds and expands in the frigid night air.  "I've been looking for you."

"Clearly," I say, gesturing to his stationary position leaning against the rail.

He stomps out his cigarette and approaches me, but stops as I start to back away.  "What's up?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Now he looks even more confused, a perfect picture of innocence if I didn't already know the truth.  He's a professional manipulator and a master actor, and even if I stare deep into his eyes all I can see is genuineness.  For a fraction of a second I wonder: What if I'm missing something again?

No.  I can't think that.  I trust Liam, and he's told me everything he knows.  I have to take his word for it. 

So I continue to stare at him, expecting him to finally crack and confess.  But he doesn't.  I let this go on for several minutes before I snap, "You want to play this game?  You want to act all innocent?"

"Erika—"

"No. You had your chance to talk, and it's gone now.  I found out the truth—the real truth.  Not the truth you've been lying to me with for the last who knows how long."

I don't give him a chance to interject; now that I've started I feel like I can't stop, not even to take a breath.  "You're working with Brianna whatever-her-name-is.  You've been blackmailing me.  You've been recording me.  And all this time you've been manipulating me and claiming to love me, because you're some psycho who's obsessed with me."

"I'm not obsessed with you."  His voice is deep and dangerous now.  "I got over you long ago, Erika.  Of course you're self-centered enough to think I still care about you—that I ever loved you at all.  Sure, I thought you were hot.  Sure, at some point I kind of wanted to date you.  But now that I know who you are?  You're pathetic."