Stand By Me

nueve | pretending

❊

LAUREL

                  THERE'S NOTHING worse than having an awful, superbly terrible day, and – after finally reaching the long-awaited door to your apartment – dropping your keys as soon as it hits the key hole. It was as if the universe had one last "sike!" left to interject before the day was through. Defeated, I stared at my keys for what felt like forever, sighing heavily. The keys had fallen right by my feet, where my shoes were disgustingly stained from the vomit encounter I had with the Prince of Spain hours ago.

          Oh right. These are probably worth thousands now. The Prince of Spain himself puked on these.

           I must have been staring at my keys for a long time, just lost in a dazed, exhausted trance and thinking of the possibilities of selling my shoes on the black market, because suddenly, the door swings open, and Isabel stood in front of me.

              "Laurel? What are you doing just standing there? You alright?" she asks. "I heard the keys fall and then -- silence." She takes one good look at my baggy eyes and slumped shoulders, and frowns. "Oh gosh. Long day?"

             I shook my head. "You have no idea."

            I stumble in after grabbing my keys and dropping them on my nightstand. Isabel had been studying on the kitchen table, made clear by the scattered design of loose-leafed paper with chicken scratchings of calculus sprawled on the surface. Two cups of coffee laid beside a can of Red Bull. Isabel was wearing her hair in a half up, half down messy bun, with stray hairs sticking up like wire. Her baggy Harvard T-shirt, which she claimed was lucky and had "intellectual powers" paired well with her maroon flannel pants. Isabel always said that comfort was the key to studying, hence why she always went to the library in her pajamas, without fail, even if it was a random Tuesday morning at eleven am. I sighed, not even having the energy to be stressed about school anymore.

               "Eugh," Isabel's nose turned up as she closed the door, her fingers flying to pinch her nose closed. "What in the world is that smell?"

         "Oh," I cursed under my breath, looking down at my shoes. In seconds, I kicked them off of my feet and placed them out in the hallway. "Trust me, you don't want to know. I'll tell you, I promise, but first I just... have to..." and without another word, I crashed on top of my fluffy white duvet. Within seconds, I could feel myself being pulled into the abyss that was sweet, sweet sleep.

                "Wait, what do you think you're doing?" Isabel was suddenly in front of me, poking my cheeks with a mechanical pencil. "We have a study group with Louis and Elise in like ten minutes. Did you forget? That calc test is tomorrow, and everyone said it's a bitch."

           My heart sank right through my bed. I didn't tell Isabel that my scholarship was revoked, and therefore, I was about to be out of the program. I couldn't face the possible self-pity, or the inspirational speech that Isabel was so known for.

          "Uh, Izzie, about that, I'm not so sure I'll be at the school for much longer—"

          A sharp vibration in my pocket interjected suddenly, followed by a sharp ringing. I reached for my phone and was greeted with the words blaring across the screen: MOTHER.

          "Oh God," I muttered. "Here!" I tossed the phone to Isabel like a hot potato. "Tell her I'm sick. I'm sleeping. I'm knocked out."

         Isabel caught it and frowned, "You're still avoiding your mom? Just answer it yourself! She's probably worried sick!" She tossed the phone back to me, but I recoiled.