Page 47 of Vicious Little Snakes
My heart feels like it’s racing, but Caroline seems so calm. But her chest is rising as fast as mine, so I know she isn’t. This is why she looked so sad—she cuts herself. My cousin Adelaide did that. I remember my mom telling me about it. She said it was because Adie was depressed and that she just needed to get some help.
Caroline’s looking over some wildflowers growing among the weeds, ignoring my question as she speaks.
“I’m fine, though. The nurse butterflied it. My parents were unreachable, so the nanny made the call for me to stay. It’s a small cut, but I guess the wrist just bleeds a lot.”
“Why’d you do that to yourself, Caroline? Is it because you’re sad, or are you sad because you do it?”
Her ice-cold eyes fix on me again, saying more than her words could.
“Both.”
“Can I see it? I won’t tell anyone in our class,” I whisper, feeling like we should be secretive.
“Promise,” she demands.
“On my life.”
Caroline pulls her sleeve up, showing me a small bandage wrapped around the side of her wrist. Her finger gently pulls back the gauze, revealing a jagged bloody cut about as long as a pen cap.
“I was sad because my gym shorts were too tight. And the teacher told me she’d send my mother an email to let her know I’d need another pair. But my mother hates that I’m fat.”
I look down at my shoes, wishing I could tell her mom to fuck off as she closed the bandage. Her voice is so small.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
I picked up a pebble off the wooden bed and toss it. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I think your mom is a jerk. But I also think you’re dumb for doing that shit.”
Her face shoots to mine, and a smile breaks out. “Dumb? You’re calling me dumb after what I just told you.”
“Yeah. But if it makes you feel better, you’re also really pretty.”
“Are you lying?”
I toss another rock, feeling my cheeks start to burn. “Nope.”
Two big teardrops run down her cheeks before she wipes them away.
“Whatever, the sun is in my eyes,” she snarks.
I just nod and grin. The bell rings, and we jump.
“Oh shit. We’re going to get busted,” I laugh, looking over my shoulder, knowing that our stolen moment is over.
She walks past me and shrugs. “It takes two minutes to get back to class through the hallway but probably three if we go the back way.”
I walk next to her, wondering which way we’ll take, a little sad, but she reaches down and takes my hand, letting me hold hers half of the way back—the long way.
* * *
“Take your seats, please. Quiet down.”
It’s the start of Thursday, and Mr. Green is already on the warpath, but I don’t care because my eyes are on the girl two rows over. Caroline sits at her desk and reaches inside for her morning journal when she stops and leans sideways to see inside.
Here we go.
She pulls out a small blue Tiffany’s box—one I stole from my mom—and a folded paper bag. Her head turns my way, but I’m already looking forward, pretending I don’t notice. I wait for a few more seconds and look back over, watching her unfold the bag and pull out the chocolate chip cookie—the cookie I made. Well, made with the help of our chef.
Caroline brings it to her nose, inhaling it, and places it back in the bag. She pushes it aside and opens the box, checking again over her shoulders to make sure nobody is watching her. The top lifts, and the scraps of tissue paper I ripped up fall out. Her delicate fingers reach inside and pull out the Care Bear sticker I stole from the nurse’s office days ago.
