Favorite Friend

The Love Club

I feel like I was hit by a bus when I wake up the next morning. My eyes are still burning and my entire face feels tender, enough so to make me wince when I lift a hand to my cheek.

I dread looking at myself in the mirror, but a sense of morbid curiosity makes me get up and walk over to it nevertheless.

It looks worse than I expected. A violet bruise blooms on the left side of my face, my eye slightly swollen shut, and there's a scab on my lip, dark and crusty. I think my nose was bleeding, too, but Elena wiped away all the evidence.

"Who are you?" I whisper to the battered boy in the mirror.

He just keeps staring at me, his arms crossed in front of his frail torso like he's trying to hold himself together, the knuckles of his right hand raw. There's something dark in his eyes that makes me avert my gaze after a few seconds, abruptly turning around.

Even now, I can still taste metal and salt. I know I need to go downstairs and eat something, if not because I have an appetite then at least to get the sickening aftertaste out of my mouth. So I get dressed, uncaring of what the items are as long as there isn't any blood on them, and drag myself out into the hallway.

It's a Thursday, so I don't expect anyone to be there, only to freeze in the doorway when I find mom and Elena sitting at the kitchen table.

"Mom?" I shakily ask. My voice comes out raspy, like I spent hours screaming at the top of my lungs. "Don't you have to go to work?"

She shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line as she takes in the state of me. I know that expression; it's the one she wears when she's trying not to cry. "No," she whispers. "I called in sick."

I swallow, the metallic taste in my mouth growing stronger when I look at Elena. She's sitting with her elbows braced on the table, not meeting my gaze. "You told her?"

At that, her head snaps around. "What was I supposed to do?" she asks, her voice harsh and firm even though her eyes are welling with tears. She's an angry crier as well. "Did you think she wouldn't notice when she sees your goddamn face? I mean, look at you, you look like someone bashed your head in with a baseball bat and you seriously still want to pretend like nothing's wrong?"

I don't know what'll come out if I open my mouth now, so I don't say anything. Instead, I silently walk over to the fridge, but mom blocks my path before I can get there.

"Feli," she whispers, and this time there's a traitorous wobble in her voice. Her touch is so gentle as she lifts a hand to my cheek, the one that isn't one giant bruise, and tilts my head to fully take in the damage. "What happened?"

I want to tell her. I want to break down right here on the kitchen tiles and tell her everything, how I went to the pharmacy alone, how I spotted Bryce, how Aaron looked at me when I swung. I want to tell her that it's all my fault, that I'm a terrible fucking person and that God and all his angels probably hate me by now.

Instead, I avoid her eyes and murmur, "Nothing. I'm fine."

Elena stares at me in disbelief. Mom's lips part like she's about to say something, but I twist away from her before she can, making her hand drop, and grab an apple from the fridge.

"I'm going upstairs," I numbly say and turn around.

I've almost made it to the door when mom says, "Felipe? Can you promise to at least tell Melissa about everything?"

I pause, biting down on my tongue so hard it hurts. Lying is easier when I don't have to look her in the eye while I'm doing it. "Yeah," I say as I start walking again. "I'll talk to her."