The Girl in the Hooded Jacket

Toilet Paper

When I woke up Sunday morning, Cameron had already left. I was glad; I didn't know what I was supposed to say to him.

I quickly brushed my teeth, showered, got dressed, and jogged down the stairs.

Ashlyn was sitting at the kitchen counter eating pancakes. She was wearing a white t-shirt, with her strawberry blonde curls cascading down to her waist.

"Theresa and Isabelle are out running errands." Ashlyn said in a monotone voice. "Cameron is at some college thing. Violet is..."
She paused, then dropped her fork back into her plate. "I don't even know where Violet is. Or what she's doing."

"Mm." I said, only half-listening. I made myself a bowl of cereal, then sat down across from Ashlyn.

Ashlyn cocked her head at me.

"What?" I paused, my spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Why are you here, anyway?" She asked.

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Come again?"

"I know you're not a foster kid." Ashlyn said. "So how'd you end up here?"

I shoved a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. "Long story." I mumbled.

"I bet," Ashlyn said, leaning forward, "that I can sum up your entire life right now."

I licked my lips nervously. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Try it." I challenged.

"Okay." Ashlyn jutted her chin out. "Your mom died when you were really young. Eight, or something. She was either killed by your father, or it was a suicide. Your dad hasn't been sober in years, and my guess is," she gestured to the bruise on my jaw, "he's the cause of that. You think you've got more problems than anyone else in the world, and often pity yourself. You met Violet two years ago, right after she was kicked out because she fucked Cameron."

"She did not fuck Cameron." I fumed.

Ashlyn just waved it off. "Whatever. You met Violet, realized you were hopelessly in love with her but she was way out of your league, and you've just been trailing her around like a lost puppy ever since." She leaned in closer. "Am I wrong, Jones?"

I stared down into her cold, grey eyes. I didn't answer. Instead, I said this:

"Your mom was an alcoholic, and you've never even met your dad. She had a boyfriend, and you hated him with a passion. When your mom died— probably because of a drug overdose, you felt just the smallest bit of relief. You've been thrown in and out of foster homes, in which you've developed your "I hate the world" attitude. You wear black and cover your eyes in dark makeup because you think it will make people stay away from you. You hate Violet because, despite everything she's gone through, she's still happy. You pretend to hate living in this house, but you know you couldn't bear to live anywhere else. You pretend to hate me, but you don't even know who I am. You think the world owes you something, and you think you have yet to receive it." Now it was my turn. "Am I wrong?" I asked her.

Ashlyn didn't say anything. She just narrowed her eyes at me, pushed her chair back, and stormed out of the kitchen.

I had my answer.

***

It was 4:01 when Justin pulled up in his black Lamborghini, with Ray sitting shotgun.

"Get in." Ray called. "We have candy."

I laughed and sat down in the back seat. "Where are we going?"

"I was thinking Thailand." Justin pondered as he pulled out of the cul-de-sac. "Maybe we could stop by Italy on the way there, grab some pizza?"

"We're going to Justin's." Ray clarified.

"Yes!" I pumped a fist into the air.

Let me tell you this: Justin was rich. Or to be more precise, his parents were rich. His father, Howard Castle, was the founder of Castle & co.

What, exactly, is Castle & co, you ask?

A toilet paper company.

You heard me. Toilet paper.

They didn't only make toilet paper. They also made paper towels, napkins, and tissues, but toilet paper seemed to be their strong suit.

Sometimes I wonder how one can make a living off of simply creating a product you would use to wipe your ass with.

His being rich wasn't the reason we were friends, but it did have its perks. For example: endless shelves of video games, a mini movie theater, a twenty-foot screen TV.

Unfortunately, his parents didn't like having us over too often. Something about loudly cursing repeatedly while playing Call of Duty just didn't seem to please them.

"Hey, dude?" Justin made eye contact with me in the rear view mirror. "Try not to piss off my parents, okay?"

"Me?" I asked, as if the very idea itself was preposterous. "Never!"

When we arrived at Justin's house, we were greeted by a very irritated Mr. and Mrs. Castle.

"Carter." Mrs. Castle said distastefully, eying me up and down, from my worn-out sneakers to my plain red t-shirt. "How nice of you to... come by." She grimaced.

"Always a pleasure, Mrs. Castle." I answered. She just inhaled sharply and exited the room, her heels clicking on the marble floors. Her husband followed suit, sending daggers in my direction with his stare.

"She'll warm up to you, eventually." Justin said. "And by eventually, I mean never."

"They didn't notice me." Ray whispered. "I'm still contemplating if that's good or bad."

"It's like everything I do is wrong in her eyes." I said, laughing to myself.

Justin patted me on the back. "Welcome to my world."