Toxic (Ruin 2)

“Thanks, Gabe.”

I saluted her and piled some cheese onto my taco, hating that I was being put through the torture of watching Saylor nibble on a damn chip like a bunny who couldn’t decide if it liked its food.

“Anyways…” Saylor stuffed the chip into her mouth. Thank God. Then took another. Of course. “I decided that we could work on my idea together. The professor had already put a few teams together, and we were the last two left.”

“Bummer, and I thought I was important,” Lisa joked.

Saylor smiled, and I had to look away. If only she had lipstick on her teeth, or a damn tortilla chip stuck somewhere. Instead, it was blinding and way too happy for my taste. Playing the happy one was my job, but I didn’t have to enjoy it. Happy just seemed easy for her, so basically, she reminded me of a female version of Wes. Great, now there were two of them in the world, and both in my life indefinitely. I could only handle Wes’s wisdom in small doses; otherwise, I figured I’d strangle him or try to punch him in the face. Don’t get me wrong. I loved him more than a brother, but when a person’s so stuck in their own hole of darkness — it hurts like hell when someone shines a light on them. Your eyes have to adjust, and let’s just say it isn’t a pleasant experience; it’s why people stay there. It’s why a lot of us, and I do mean a lot of us, choose the façade rather than the reality of where we’re living. Hell, I’d been living in my dark hole for so long, I’d set up camp, put up pictures, and ordered cable.

Light reminded me of her smile, of what I’d taken, of what I’d never deserve again. It reminded me of loss, and I hated being reminded of loss. At least in my darkness I was comfortable. I didn’t have to think about the light because it was such a rarity I sometimes forgot what it even felt like.

“Stop smiling,” I blurted.

All heads turned in my direction.

“What? Me?” Saylor, still smiling, pointed at herself.

“Yeah, you got a chip stuck in your teeth or something,” I grumbled. “Didn’t want you to be embarrassed in front of strangers.” Holy Hell.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Chip free,” Kiersten announced after a two second stare down at Saylor’s mouth. “So what did you guys choose?”

Great, so everyone was back to ignoring me. I could handle that. I took a huge bite out of my taco and waited.

“One of the local group homes. The one down by the Sound.”

I spit out my taco onto my plate and started choking.

Lisa’s face went pale, and with shaking hands she reached for her water. “Oh, for some reason I thought you said retirement home this morning?”

“Oh, I did.” Saylor grinned. “Only because I wasn’t sure if they were going to let us

into this other facility. For some reason the security is kind of crazy there. Anyways, my older brother did an internship there for a year before med school and said it was fantastic.”

“Why the hell would you choose a group home?” I blurted, voice scratchy after nearly asphyxiating on a taco.

“Gabe!” Kiersten smacked me in the arm. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

I shrugged, not sure how long I could take the conversation.

“If you must know…” Saylor said in a tense voice. “My younger brother has Down syndrome. He had to go to a group home when he was really small because my parents had so much trouble with him. He wouldn’t eat, would scream all the time… that is until we finally learned how to take care of him the way he needed. His ears were really sensitive…” Saylor’s voice died off.

“And?” I prompted.

“And none of your business.” There was that damn smile again.

“Great, so…” Lisa nodded awkwardly. “Guess we’ll be going to the group home this weekend?”

“I’ll have to call and—”

“—they have game night Friday nights. Better go Saturday afternoon.” With that I pushed away from the table. My chair toppled to the ground as I made my way out of the dorm room and down the hall. I pressed the elevator button so hard I jammed my finger.

“You gonna tell her?” Wes’s calm voice said from behind me.

“Shit!” I hit my hand against the elevator door, praying it would open soon so I could escape. “Tell her what?”

“About the fact that you basically visit that same group home at least four times a week?”