Sweet Little Nothing

Me: I’ve been here almost a month.

Mommy Dearest: Are you taking your meds?

Me: As prescribed.

Unlike you, I think bitterly to myself.

After Rob assaulted me, I was diagnosed as clinically depressed with a heaping side of anxiety and a dash of PTSD.

I was distraught upon my diagnosis and utterly terrified of meds. Not entirely surprising, after seeing mood stabilizers all but turn my mother into a mindless Stepford wife.

Luckily my therapy team was able to teach me that, when prescribed and administered properly, meds can be a good thing... a glorious thing.

I still have my good days and my bad. Sometimes, I even think I can skip a day when I’m feeling particularly great. But deep down, I know I can’t... so I don’t.

Mommy Dearest: There’s no need to be snappy, Emmalyn. Also, talked to Robert, and we decided it would be best for you to remain on campus over the holidays. You understand, right?

I understand you couldn’t pay me to come back there. That’s what I understand.

Me: Sure. Got it.

Mommy Dearest: Oh, and, Emmalyn, please don’t cause any more trouble. Keep your nose clean and your legs closed.

Frustrated tears dot my lashes and hurt grips my heart. A mother should support her child, fight for them. A mother should be a child’s number one advocate, and mine... she threw me under the bus in favor of keeping her rich and shiny lifestyle.

“Emmy, you okay?” Stella asks.

I sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were done showering.”

“Just got out.” She looks at me hard, studying my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

I shrug. “I will be.”

“Well, you’re in luck! I know just the thing to take your mind off of whatever’s got you down.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes! I’m going to do your makeup!” Her smile is megawatt and her tone pure joy.

Who am I to pop her bubble? “Sounds great, Stell.”

If possible, her smile grows wider. “You called me Stell! A nickname. We really are besties now!”

“And we weren’t before? Rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “Let me get dressed and then it’s on!”

“Okay.” I click off the television and haul myself up from the couch. “Want me to come to your room when I’m done?”

“Yes. Oh! Wait!” Stella holds up a finger and then darts into her room. She returns before I can so much as blink. “Wear this.”

“What is it?” I shake out the silky material and grin when I see what she’s handed me. “Where did you get this?”

“Zach had them made.”

I snort out a laugh and clutch the jersey to my chest. “Of course he did.”

“Just wait until you see them all together.”

“Oh, God.”

Stella shoos me into my room, where I change into my jersey. I layer it over a white turtleneck, also from Stella, and pair it with distressed jeans and my favorite knee-high boots.

“You’re not going to do anything crazy, right?” I ask, stepping into Stella’s room.

We’re dressed similarly, except she’s wearing Uggs and a royal blue zip-up jacket over her jersey.

“Of course not.” She pats the seat of her desk chair. “Now, sit.”

Stella gets to work, slathering my face with God only knows what. Before Rob, I loved makeup, but now, I typically stick to the basics. It makes me wonder how far Stella will try and push.

After about fifteen minutes, she steps back and appraises her work. “Perfect.”

“Can I look?”

She passes me a mirror, and I’m pleasantly surprised with the outcome. I look like a slightly more polished version of me, but with my eyes painted Wildcat gold and lined in Central Valley’s signature blue. She even drew a little paw print on my right cheek.

“I love it.”

She beams. “Give me twenty and we’ll head out.”

* * *

“It’s a beautiful day for some ball,” Stella says as we step outside.

“Cold though,” I mutter, rubbing my hands together for a little warmth.

“You’ll get used to it.” She links her arm with mine. “Where are we meeting Zach again?”

“He said at the wildcat statue.”

“Perfect.” She tilts her head to look at me. “You think any of his friends are single?”

I laugh under my breath. “You’re so boy crazy.”

Stella scoffs. “False. I’m only a little boy crazy. You would be too, if you were me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get laid with an older brother as protective as mine? Orion is like a freaking pit-bull with Spidey senses. Impossible! Hence how I’m still a freaking virgin!”

“Deep breaths, girl. You’re not going to die with your V-card.”

“I just wanna know what it’s like, you know?”

I try to inhale, but it’s as if there’s an anvil on my chest. “No, not really. My only experience was torture than anything else.”

“Oh, shit. Babe.” Stella stops and pulls me into a crushing hug. “I am so thoughtless. I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her, mostly meaning it.

It’s not that I’m against sex or anything.