Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

49 - Rebecca

          The next morning, I sat at my island eating eggs and bacon thinking about Katrina. I had decided sometime between sleeping and waking up that I would contact her first, considering she would need ample time to get ready and tell the other girls. But I was stalling, because I dreaded the thought of anything to do with that house.

Without me, however, Katrina had pointed out that she was the odd one out: she was the one who was normal and wanted to stay normal, if only for a little bit longer. So she was the best choice in this situation anyway.

Eventually, I gathered my guts together and unblocked Katrina, pressing the call button. I left it on speaker as I reluctantly put my plate in the sink, hating that I had to do the dishes now.

And then Katrina answered. "Rebecca," she said, sounding extremely surprised.

I rolled my eyes. "Hello, Katrina. I need to do something otherwise I'm going to go fucking mad. Me, you, Tara, and any of the other girls at a club tonight."

There was a short silence.

"Really? A club? I don't know if that's-"

"Trust me, I'm over what other people think. Answer the question."

"Okay," she squeaked.

"Ask Tara. No boys, I mean it. And definitely not him."

"He wouldn't come anyway. He's locked himself in his-"

"I don't give a shit," I snapped before I could process what she said. I was glaring at the phone, my hands gripping the counter.

"I'll tell Tara as soon as she wakes up," Katrina promised, then paused. My finger was just above the red button when she suddenly spoke again. "How about we go to lunch first? Get you out of your apartment," she suggested.

Why do I want to say yes to that? It seemed both like a fantastic idea and a terrible one. If I wanted to be friends with Katrina, I did have to do some of the shit she wanted to do... Oh, fuck it. "Whatever. Text me a time and place, I'm not coming over."

"Okay."

I hung up and walked to my bedroom, finding an outfit that would help me fit in with all the other girls. I didn't want to stand out because if anybody looked at me funny, they would get a broken nose and I'd go to prison for the day. I wore a pair of black ripped jeans with a simple black shirt — it laced up at the very top, but hardly showed anything — underneath a red checkered flannel shirt that I left completely open. I slipped on a pair of lace-up boots and put my hair in its half-up style.

I spent nearly two hours watching a movie that held no interest for me whatsoever before Katrina texted me an address and the word 'ASAP'. She had sent me her exact location, which meant she was already there. I rolled my eyes as I flung a purse over my shoulder. My shoes weren't nearly as loud as I wanted them to be, but I still managed to stomp on my way to the front door.

As I walked down the hallway, I noticed a black mass behind me. My eyes naturally scanned over the space, looking for the foreign neighbour who'd ratted me out to Angela before. But I didn't see her, so I continued walking.

Outside's breeze wasn't comforting like it should have been, and that was just more frustrating to me. I climbed into the driver seat of my car and worked the controls quickly, eager to get out of my own head. Just a minute after I started to drive, Katrina called me. I barely glanced at my phone as I turned a corner.

I answered.

"Hey, Becky" — she sounded much too friendly to be speaking to me — "I know you're on your way so I want to know what you want to order."

I paused, frowning at the phone. Katrina was weird. Since the address was some sort of cafe, I instantly assumed that there was coffee — there better be coffee. "A Mocha," I said, waiting for her to say that wasn't an option. She didn't. "And I don't care what else."

"Okay, I'll order that for you... how do you feel about paninis?"

"Whatever."

"Great. See you soon." She hung up on me this time. I found myself frowning at the air, confused. I wasn't used to this sort of treatment and I didn't think I liked it all that much.

That was the package deal with Katrina, though: complete normalcy. We wouldn't fight because she didn't fight with people; we wouldn't argue because she'd relent; we wouldn't glare at each other because she'd start blushing and look away. It would be impossible for me to justify my annoyance, which made me remember why Tara and I had become friends to begin with.

I groaned, smacking my hand against the wheel as I pulled up to the cafe. Why was I doing this to myself? Why couldn't I just make my own life easier and stop trying to ruin it?

Because those were just the choices I made, weren't they? Life-destroying ones. It had never been any different besides getting away from my family. But now look at me, using my office again and designing. There was no escape from bad for me. Maybe I should have thought about that a day ago.