she barged through the door, scaring my cat. i can hear her downstairs surging through my uncleaned mess. i forgot to clean the litter.

hey! she screamed out quietly. it sent my ears ringing.

oh hey there, i said. don't shout. i'm unarmed.

you weren't in school today. and yesterday. the whole week, in fact.

and the week before that, i reminded her.

idiot, what have you been doing

wait how did you get here i had the door locked

oh ******* come on what have you been doing?

hill climb racing. i'm almost near getting the hovercraft.

and

binging a dog and a teenager having adventures

and?

marinating

okay, get up. god, you look like a sad hairy cheeto.

and you look like a pretty girl in a catholic school uniform

shut up, she said. she smells of vanilla and burnt cooking oil

she got me out of my floor and into a cushion. twelve year old me would've been excited.

you don't just chat to me like that and expect me to take it well, you ***. especially not during friday ******* mass

sorry. i got carried away. my folks aren't here

i could tell. have you eaten

(ugh. her voice softened)

uh, no, i haven't. i had coffee. there's uhhh, there's m&m's in my bag besides the alcohol flask if you want some

okay, no, we're getting you food. god you smell like the boy's bathroom

i didn't care. i couldn't smell anything before that until she came around.

my head was ringing. coffee without breakfast is like running without shoes.

i stood up and stretched. i couldn't find my glasses; i had to wear my old ones with a cracked left lens.

she looked pretty with her untied hair and her boring grizzly sweater. there was a blotch on her sleeve.

look, my wallet is in the table below and my folks gave me enough shekels to buy greece

there's a store in the next street that sells waffles. get a tub of ice cream too and get whatever you want or something.

and you expect me to mother you?

ugh just buy the thing and take a hundred for yourself, please.

she looked ******. and tired. i recognized a glint in her eyes.

fine. take a bath.

i will.

oh and also

what?

buy beer.

ugh.

.

.

.

the rain's here.

.

.

she came back with goods. i was drying my hair.

that was quick, i said

yeah, i know, and you took a bath during that time. did you even touch soap?

come on, open up the waffles.

she handed me the shopping bag. i took her arm

hey!

sorry, i said. but it's bleeding again.

no, it's the rain.

don't even, catholic girl. it's red.

she shied away

.

.

eat the **** ice cream, she said.

.

i went downstairs. i returned with plates, utensils, a bottle opener, and gauze

come on now, i said. let's do this all over again.

she sat besides me on my bed and showed her arm. several careless wounds and bare red marks.

there's alcohol in my bag, she said.

ha, me too

she doesn't look amused.

i applied a few sprays. she winces slightly. the glint in her eyes intensify.

how recent was this?

wednesday.

and how about your other arm

she rolls her sleeve. it was uglier before.

they still think it was the dog, the teachers. at least it's not long and straight and obvious

and the other guys?

you really think they'd talk to me about this?

ha, no. of course they wouldn't.

and neither would the other girls, except they would be talking about this to each other.

i wrap her wounds with the gauze. the glint turns into a tear.

you shouldn't have been absent. the teachers are mad about it

i don't care. it's not like you and that lot liked my company anyways

yeah, you're right. you're insufferable.

i cough out a laugh. she has a sad smile.

i fix her wrap in a tight knot.

the rain stops

can we have some food now please? she blurts out. i can hear her choking her emotions

okay. just relax now. i'm sorry i messaged you like that earlier.

you better be, you ****.

and i'm sorry i made you run under the rain.

and i'm sorry i only got a single spoon.

ugh, she goes. typical.

and i'm sorry i had to see this, again.

no, i'm sorry. this isn't about me

it's not about me, either.

it's all **** out there. but i'm not letting you go home with another shard of glass, now.

okay, she said. should've bought cans, then.

heh.

.

.

.

i don't know how to finish this prose.

it's been a while since i talked to her.

though she was never online on anywhere since then.

i should have given her some scar cream.

.

.

.

.