Komal Kant - Wrong Side of Town

That was why I didn’t want to dredge up my problems and make things worse when they were already bad enough for my friends. There was only so much a bunch of seventeen-year-old girls could handle.

“Hey, Ray,” I responded in a flat tone, calling Mariah by the nickname we’d coined for her in elementary school.

Ray flashed me a smile that I could barely bring myself to return. “How did your job interview go?”

That was another topic that I wanted to avoid. “Yeah, it was fine. I got the job.” I tried to act like it was no big deal and Ray didn’t seem interested enough to ask about it further.

Besides, Hadie’s well-being was more important than discussing my tutoring job. Her eyes had been glassy the entire time and that wasn’t a good sign. It meant that she was thinking about the one thing that was killing her inside.

“Hadie,” I said in a gentle tone, “how are you?”

“Huh?” She looked up at me, startled. Her eyes were watery, and I couldn’t help myself; I reached out and wrapped my arms around her.

At first she was tense, but eventually she relaxed against me. “I love you,” I whispered, “and if you need me, I’m here. Always.”

Hadie didn’t respond, and that was okay. I just needed her to know, needed to remind her, that she wasn’t alone. The worst feeling in the world was one of complete and utter loneliness where you felt like no one understands you and that no matter how loud you cry and scream, no one will come and rescue you.

When I released her, Hadie seemed a little more at ease, and that made me feel better. It made me feel better knowing that I could help someone else, even if I couldn’t help myself. Helping others made me momentarily forget that I had problems of my own—problems that nightmares were made of.

And, right on cue, the skin of my left arm began to itch again.

That night, we didn’t have anything to eat.

The only thing I’d managed to find in the cupboard were two cans—one was tuna and the other was diced tomatoes. We didn’t have bread or rice or pasta, but I still made an Italian-style sauce.

Despite the lack of carbohydrates to soak up the sauce, Anna and I scoffed it down because we were so hungry. We probably would’ve finished it all, but I saved some for Dad like I always did. I wasn’t too sure where he was tonight, but he got angry when there wasn’t food waiting for him when he got home.

Once we were done eating, we stood side by side at the kitchen sink and did the dishes together in silence. Normally, Anna would talk non-stop, but after the ordeal with Dad yesterday, I think she was just as exhausted as I was.

Afterwards, Anna pressed two fifty dollar bills into my hand. I stared at her in surprise, not sure what she was trying to pay me for.

“It’s the money Seth gave me yesterday,” she said impatiently. “Just take it, okay? We need food or we’ll starve.”

We did need food, but I still wanted to argue with her on this. I wanted to argue with her for taking money from Seth and for making me take it now. Except, she was right. We would starve without food, and I didn’t tutor until Friday. That was still two days away.

“Okay, I’m taking it,” I said in defeat. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“You can’t do everything yourself, Estee. Sometimes you have to accept help from other people.”

I couldn’t even begin to explain to Savannah how important it was for me to do everything myself. That there was no one in this world who could truly help me or the people I loved, which was why I had to do it.

When Savannah headed out with her friends, I took a quick shower and, afterwards, just stood there and stared at myself in the mirror. I stared at myself and wondered why everything was so wrong in my life and why bad things happened to my family. First Dad lost his job and gambled our savings; then Mom left and I was forever changed

My eyes shot to the scar on my arm and I allowed hot tears to burn my eyes and fall down my face. I stood there a little longer until the lump in my throat dissolved and I could focus on my scar without blurred eyes.

Then I went into my room and grabbed the permanent marker from my desk and wrote over the disfiguration until the dark strokes and my skin were one and the same.

The rest of the week dragged by, and I was relieved when Friday finally came around.

Sure, I was somewhat wary at being employed by a Madden, but I was doing this to help my family. Besides, I couldn’t help but be a little curious of the notorious Madden family. It wasn’t every day that you got an inside look into their lives.

After school, Mariah drove me to Penthill and talked endlessly about her boyfriend, Connor, so I didn’t really need to say much. I was thankful for Ray’s chatter because it gave me time to think about how I would act around Vincent.

I still had mixed feelings about him. On one hand, I knew I should be afraid of him, but on the other, I couldn’t ignore the anxious butterflies that exploded inside my stomach whenever he got close to me.

Normally, I didn’t take much of an interest in boys—I usually just avoided them and turned down the ones that did ask me out—but Vincent intrigued me. I wasn’t sure what it was about him, but I wanted to get to know him. At the same time, I wanted to stay away from him. These feelings he stirred inside of me were terrifying.

Anyway, I wasn’t the type of girl I expected him to go for. He probably found me about as interesting as a rubber pot plant. The way I dressed—long, baggy clothing, even in summer--was to keep wandering eyes off me. Despite, my best efforts, people still commented on my appearance and insisted that I could be a model, but I could never do anything that put me in the spotlight like that.

No. My body needed to stay covered. There was a scar burned into it that I never wanted anyone to see.

All I wanted to do was keep my head down, study hard, and get a scholarship to college. Then I could make a better life for myself and for Savannah.

When Mariah pulled into the parking lot of the library, Vincent was already there. This time, though, there was no truck. Instead, Vincent was leaning against a black motorcycle with his bare arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you think he’s one of the Madden gang?” Mariah asked, staring out the window at Vincent. “I hope not. He’s pretty hot.”

“Yes, he is.”

Ray turned to me in surprise, looking like she’d run into a brick wall. “Seriously? You think he’s hot?”

“No! I mean, yes, he is, but that’s not what I meant.” I felt embarrassed that I was acting so silly when it came to admitting that Vincent was attractive. “I meant, yes, he is in the Madden gang.”

I must’ve sounded pretty confident, because Mariah picked up on it. “How do you know? Have you seen him with the Madden gang before?”

Not meeting her eye, I reached over to the backseat of the car and grabbed my bag. “He’s an actual Madden, and he’s also my boss.”

“What? Shut the fuck up!” Mariah grasped my shoulder before I could even open up the door. “Is this your idea of a joke? Because it’s not funny.”

Sighing, I turned to face her. “No, Ray, I’m not joking. Vincent Madden is my boss. I tutor his little brother, Dylan.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not even sure I know what I’m doing.”

“No shit!”

The wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression on Ray’s face was quite comical, but I barely had time to register it because all of a sudden, the door was pulled open and I almost fell out from the weight of Mariah’s hand pushing into my shoulder.