*.*.*.*.*.*

September 26

"That asshole! That motherfucking asshole!"

"Hey, leave mothers out of it," I mumble, picking at my short-cropped nails.

"Really, Tay? Even at a time like this?"

I lift my puffy eyes and blurry vision to see Marla fold her arms across her chest and raise her eyebrows at me. I force a small smile, sniffing back the tears and mucus. I've stopped crying now, feeling so much better Marla's dramatic rant that was more curse words than actual speech. At least watching her pace around my room while performing theatrics with her hands made me feel better.

"I can't believe he'd do that," Marla repeats for the dozenth time. "I swear I wouldn't have let you go alone if I'd known."

"I wouldn't have gone at all if I had known," I add.

Marla bites her lip, shaking her head. "How can he do that?" she exclaims, clearly still not over it. "You're his daughter's age, like, what the fuck? And Riley's always saying what a great man he is and how terrible her mom was to leave him --"

"One side of the story." I shrug.

"-- he's an asshole."

"Being a good father doesn't necessarily equate being a good person in general," I tell Marla.

"He's an asshole."

I chew on my lower lip. "I've been thinking --" I say slowly. "What if he does something like this to Riley?"

"She would tell us if he did, though."

"You think so? I mean, I don't know. She might be scared or ..." I trail off.

She sighs, sitting at the edge of my bed where I sit cross-legged under the fluffy comforter. I pull at a loose string of the hoodie I'm wearing -- one of Carter's. I catch sight of my open hair and all the split-ends, realizing I need a haircut. Taking a strand between my fingers, I begin to break off the hair with double -- or multiple in most cases -- ends.

"Should we report him?" I ask Marla. I've been thinking about it and don't really know what to do. I don't really have any proof but raising the alarm might help.

"Maybe we should ask Riley first?" Marla suggests. "She already hates us because we hate her boyfriend. Imagine if her dad went to jail because of us."

I nod quickly. It's not like I want to go to the cops and talk about this experience. It was scary on its own and -- with neither Mom nor Dad on my side -- who would even believe me? I'm not even sure what happened.

"Okay, let's put this all behind us," Marla says after a while and I can tell she's finally moving on. "What can we do to make this day a little better and not a total waste of time?"

A smile slides onto my lips and I sniff again. "We can eat a tub of ice-cream," I suggest. "But I don't have any."

Marla smiles. "Okay, well, in that case ... I can drive to the local store and get some?"

I flash a bright smile. "You're the best."

Laughing a little, Marle gets to her feet and walks over to kiss me on the cheek.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," she tells me and I nod. "Don't think too much till then. How about you pick out a movie and I can stay the night?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." I beam.

"We can watch Pirates of the Caribbean again."

"Oh, no no no, we're not watching that. I'm picking out the shittiest, cheesiest, lowest-IMDB-rated rom-com I can find on the free web."

Marla looks mortified. "Why?"

"Because I don't want any negative thoughts tonight and think it'll help to sit in bed and make fun of some crappy plot and amateur actors."

She laughs. "Sounds like a plan. Don't forget me while I'm gone, babe."

Waving over her shoulder, Marla leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I sit with the laptop over the comforter and search through my collection. Katy Perry plays in my headphones because her songs don't allow me to go back into my own head and get sad again. My stomach grumbles and I realize I haven't eaten anything in a while. A part of me says I should tell Marla to get more than just ice-cream but another part stops me. I don't want to be more trouble than I already am.

However, when Marla comes back twenty minutes later, she not only has a tub of ice-cream but also packets of marshmallows and a bowl of microwave popcorn that gives off the delicious smell of cheese.

"You are an angel," I tell her as soon as she hands me the stuff.

"I met your mom in the kitchen," she tells me. Kicking off her shoes and folding the sleeves of her t-shirt up to her shoulders, she scoots closer. "When I was preparing the popcorn. I told her we're having a sleepover."

"Did she ask anything?"

Marla shakes her head, sliding into bed next to me and tugging at the comforter. I make the task easier for her, handing her the bowl of popcorn and moving the laptop screen toward her. It's all so I can distract myself from the sinking in my heart.

It's strange how we miss the smallest of things when they're gone. I almost wish Mom would ask me why I hadn't asked her before having friends over or why I've been in bed since I got back. I almost wish she'd get mad at me for asking my friend to get me ice-cream rather than going out myself.

Maybe then I wouldn't feel so insignificant.

The sounds of the cheesy Korean romance movie that we only understand because of the English subtitles begins to echo. We laugh and snort at every phrase because neither Marla nor I can keep ourselves from making a joke out of every romantic word the couple says. And yet all night, nobody comes to check up on me. I keep hoping -- not expecting -- to have Mom knock on my door and tell us to unlock the door. Or that my dad to get mad and ask me to turn the volume down because the neighbors are sleeping. Nobody comes and I stop hoping they will.

Hope is easy to shatter sometimes.

Calling Racheal at 1:00 am is the kind of thing I do when I'm with my best friend on a school night and too high off cheese. She answers, confused and sleepy-voiced. But when the voice call turns to video call and we all begin to laugh like jokers, all traces of sleep vanish.

"We," Marla begins, throwing an arm around my neck and pulling me closer, "have made a decision and we need you in on it."

"We're not going to worry about Riley anymore," I tell Racheal.

"Because she doesn't deserve our unconditional love." Marla nods.

"So Riley can go fuck herself," I say.

"Or Carlos." Marla glances at me.

"But fucking herself is better than fucking that piece of shit so I'm hoping she'll do that instead."

Racheal snorts, raising her eyebrows.

"We realized we might not be able to save Riley but the only way of keeping Taylor virginity --" Marla explains.

"And sanity," I add.

"-- intact is to distance ourselves from this entire matter as soon as possible. Besides, Riley's the same age as we are and she should have enough sense to know when someone's messing her up. Maybe this experience will actually teach her that her friends aren't bitches like she thinks we are," Marla concludes.

"You guys are just saying that."

"I'm not," Marla says quickly. "But we all know Taylor is going to change her mind as soon as the sun rises."

"Yeah, she's soft on the inside," Racheal agrees.

"Like these marshmallows," Marla coos, poking at my cheek and laughing when I shove her.

"She's got a manwhore as an abusive boyfriend and a pedophilic father," I point out. "Do you really expect me not to care about her well-being?"

Marla doesn't answer, shoving marshmallows into her mouth as if to elaborate how 'soft' I am.

"Why didn't you guys invite me for the sleepover?" Racheal pouts.

"Because you have to go to school in the morning," Marla answers.

"And you guys don't?"

"I'm taking a day off because I'm depressed," I say.

"And I'm the good friend who's going to make sure she's okay," Marla states like it's obvious.

"Besides, someone needs to have all the notes so that we can copy them," I add. "You'll do that for us, won't you, Rach?"

Racheal, however, is too busy scowling at us through narrowed eyes. "I hate you guys."

Marla starts arguing why that isn't a good idea and I smile and sit back, eating popcorn and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. It's not every day that I can sit in bed at 2:00 am and watch stupid movies I don't understand while eating cheesy popcorns and having meaningless discussions with my friends. Sometimes, though, these are just the kind of things we need.

It's these spontaneous adventures I'd had with Carter that I miss.

In third grade, when we missed the bus and walked to school in the rain, jumping in puddles and dancing in the water because we were young and free. It was a daring act, his rebellious plan, that got us both grounded. Not to mention I'd been sick and running a fever for two days while he got the blame and whined constantly about how my immune system was garbage.

During a camping trip in seventh grade when I liked a guy Jack, Carter learned that he was my older brother -- by two minutes -- and needed to look out for me. I didn't get my first kiss but Jack landed in the campsite pond so that he got in trouble for swimming so late at night. I'd been mad at Carter for a week before he got me my favorite chocolates to make it up to me.

Even after getting into high school, Carter made it his job to make my life miserable by calling me 'toot toot' randomly in the corridor. Not many people cared but I found it embarrassing, especially when he would appear around a corner and interrupt my conversation with any cute boy by his absurd singing of a train horn.

As soon as we turned sixteen, Carter dismantled the lock of my bedroom door and told Mom and Dad we need to have a curfew. No matter how many times I whined about it, he simply laughed. He told me he wasn't doing it to jeopardize my chances of having a boyfriend but also his own of ever having a girlfriend.

Now that I think about it, it's exactly these things I miss.

Looking at Marla and Racheal who are arguing about how K-pop is more than just guys who look like girls, I realize how important these small, apparently simplistic moments are. Maybe, these are the exact moments Marla and Racheal will think about when we're not together anymore.

Or when I'm not with them.

*.*.*.*.*.*

A/N: I've noticed I don't write friends' scenes like this in any of my stories, mostly because I'm not a very friendship oriented person. However, as friendship is one of the major themes in this story and Taylor doesn't have a very positive family environment and I don't want to make the story entirely depressing, here you guys are! For those of you missing Shane, though, he's coming next chapter and the story will focus more on him as it goes on. He's the main dude after all <3

As for what I asked you last chapter, the scene with Riley's dad and Taylor actually happened to me. Only, I wasn't sixteen like Taylor but rather thirteen and completely freaked out and got out of there. I've never told anyone but I really distanced myself from that friend and never told her what happened. I didn't want her to think badly of her father. I haven't seen my friend or her dad in over ten years. I just hope he's a better man now.