You're Not Worthless Page 7

  It kind of feels like the days have been going by in blurs.

  I can’t remember if people were making fun of me, because nothing feels right anymore. It’s like I can’t remember the last few days. They haven’t been real. When I pull into the student parking lot, I see Jazmine and three other girls, standing by a silver mustang. I park my car as far away from Jazmine’s car as I can-which is only three spaces. I try not to look at any of those girls as I open my car door, and make my way through the lot.

  “I haven’t seen your boyfriend in a couple of days,” Jazmine calls out. “Did you guys break up?”

  Ignore her.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Jazmine chuckles.

  “What’s wrong?” One of the girls asks, sarcastically. “Did you run out of room for cutting?” The girls all burst into laughter.

  Ignore them.

  “It’s okay,” Another girl says. “I’m sure you’ll find room somewhere else.” More laughter.

  “Can you please just leave me alone?” I ask, and I’m serious. I’m officially done playing whatever game that Jazmine is.

  “And ruin the fun?” Jazmine says. She brings a finger to her lip and taps three times, as if she’s considering the suggestion.

  “That would be so boring, though.” She says. “Letting a little hoe get away with all of her little games.”

  “Okay, for the last time,” I say. “I never had a thing with Derrick. And I honestly don’t know how you came to that conclusion.”

  Jazmine steps towards me, so she’s almost standing right in front of me. “You know what

  I hate more than fake people?” She asks, her voice as poisonous as venom. “Liars.”

  She brings her arm up and slaps me in the face. My head flings to the side, and a sting spreads throughout the entire left side of my face. Don’t Kalani. Don’t do it. I ball my hand into a fist and punch Jazmine in the jaw. She flies back a few steps, bringing her hands to her face. When she pulls her hands away, I see blood. I broke the skin. Jazmine lunges for me, knocking me down to the concrete. My head hits the floor, and a buzzing spreads throughout my head.

  Jazmine brings her hand up behind her head, and quickly brings it down. More pain hits me, and I’m afraid that I might pass out. She continues to hit me, over and over, and all I can do is squirm underneath her.

  After what feels like ten years, Jazmine pushes herself off of me. She stares down at me, a smirk on her face.

  “Even with a broken wrist, I’m still stronger than you,” she laughs. She brings her foot back, and kicks me in the side.

  I let out a groan, and pull my knees to my chest. I feel more kicks, hitting me everywhere.

  I feel hits to my back, my legs, to my head. The pain begins to overwhelm me, making me feel nauseous. It feels like the kicks are becoming fainter, like everything is starting to feel more distant.

  “Hey!” I think I hear someone, a boy yell. But it could just be my imagination.

  “Hey!” I hear it again, louder this time. The kicking and hitting stops. For a moment, I fear that the girls will start again, but I can’t find the energy to move away from them.

  I hear loud footsteps, like someone is running away. When I look up, the girls are gone. I close my eyes, relieved that they left me. Then I hear more footsteps that get louder and louder. When I open my eyes, I can see someone in front of me, but he’s a blur. I can’t quite make him out. He has dark hair, and dark green eyes.

  “Kalani,” I hear, and that’s when I know that it’s him. His voice has always soothed me, the way it does now.

  “Lucas,” I say, but it’s barely more than a whisper. That’s when everything begins to slip away.

  * * *

  The first thing that comes to mind is pain. Pain everywhere. Pain in my legs. Pain in my sides. Pain in my head. I don’t want to open my eyes, because I know that it will hurt. They open slowly; it takes everything I have to get them to fully open. Everything is bright. When the room finally comes into focus, I see plain blue walls, and a few pictures hanging on them. I can hear a loud beeping, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

  “She’s awake,” I hear a girl say, but again, I can’t tell where the sound came from. Suddenly, I see faces-too many for comfort.

  Caden is the first person I see. He doesn’t seem frightened, but just happy to see me awake. Then I see my mom, and my dad. They look concerned, but not too concerned. I’m surprised to see them concerned at all. Then I see Amelia, and Mia. They look worried. They look like someone just pronounced me dead. Skylar isn’t even paying attention.

  She’s sitting in a chair, looking down at her pink tablet.Then I see Lucas. Sitting in the back corner. He’s staring at me, through a gap in all of the people surrounding me. He looks sad. I try turning my head to the right, which sends shooting pains from my neck to my head.

  There’s a big machine sitting next to me.

  “Where am I?” I ask.

  “You’re in the hospital, sweetie,” my mom says. She strokes my hair with her hand. I don’t know what to say to her. In all my life, I can’t remember one time that my mom ever called me ‘sweetie’ or stroked my hair.

  “What happened?”

  “That girl, that you said was bullying you,” my dad begins. “She attacked you. In the parking lot before school. You fell unconscious. Her and her friends have been suspended for one month.”

  “One month?” I ask, shocked.

  “You were seriously injured, Kalani,” my mom says. “The doctor said that you have another concussion, this one worse than the last. And you have whiplash. And he said that Jazmine kicked you so hard that one of your ribs is broken.”

  “Is that why it hurts to breathe?” I ask. I’m not lying. Every time I inhale, I feel sharp pains in my chest.

  “The doctor said that you might need surgery to put the bone back into place,” my mom says. “Because it could potentially be close to puncturing your lung.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Nobody says anything after that. We just fall into a sudden silence. I look around, to survey my surroundings some more. I notice that I have my room, meaning that my parents paid the hospital for one. Then I realize that if I’m in a hospital, I have to be wearing a hospital gown. I look down to see that my arms are completely revealed, showing the cuts on my arms. A needle sticks out of my arm, to provide fluids.

  My mom places her hand gently on my arm, where the cuts are. I stare up at her, confused.

  “Let’s not talk about that right now,” she says. I look around at my family. Amelia and Mia stare down at the cuts, like they’re sad about it. And Caden tries not to stare at them, but it’s like he’s mesmerized by them.

  My dad doesn’t look at them at all. If anything, he tries to stare at me, rather than my arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

  My mother shakes her head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  I turn my attention to Lucas, who stares at my arms like he absolutely hates the cuts. He doesn’t look at them with disgust, but more like he hates that it even happened.

  “Hey,” I say. Lucas looks up at me. Then he stands from his place.

  “Can I talk to her alone?” He asks. My parents look at each other, but they don’t say anything. It’s like they can understand each other just by looking into each other’s eyes.

  My mom finally nods. Then without a word, everyone turns away from where I’m lying, and leaves the room. Lucas and I don’t speak for a moment. We just stare at each other. But unlike my parents,

  I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  “I’m so sorry, Kalani,” Lucas says. “I know for a fact that if I had been there, this would have never happened.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” I say. “You shouldn’t have to protect me 24/7. It’s not fair to you, to have to basically give up your life, just to make sure I’m safe.”

  “I don’t care,” Lucas says, shaking his h
ead. “It’s not fair to you, ​ to have to deal with all of the stupid things people are doing to you at school.”

  “Lucas-”

  “No, stop,” he says, and I fall silent. “I... I haven’t been a very good friend to you... I’ve made you go through this alone... I left you when you obviously needed someone to be there for you. And because of that, you’re in the hospital.”

  “You didn’t make me go through this alone,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ve been by my side through everything. You’ve helped me through everything. ​ I still feel guilty.”

  “Come here,” I say, patting the side of my bed. Lucas walks over to where I’m lying, and I scooch over to give him room to sit.

  He sits down, and pulls his legs up onto the bed.

  “I don’t want you to feel guilty,” I say.

  “Because none of this is your fault. It’s not like you started any of this. You are the best thing in my life right now. You’ve watched my heart break so many times this year, and you’ve always been there to pick up the pieces.

  You’re one of the best things to have ever happened to me. Because without you, I’m not sure where I’d be. You’re my best friend, Lucas.”

  Lucas grabs my hand with his, and kisses the top of my forehead.

  “You’re my best friend, too.” We sit there together, hand in hand, for a long time. And we don’t say anything. We just sit in silence.

  Together.

  * * *

  Friday was the last day of school before Winter break. I have three weeks off now.

  But unfortunately, I’m still in the hospital.

  “Bad news,” my mom says. “The doctor looked at your X-rays, and it looks like you do need surgery.”

  All I can do is nod. I’m starting to remember a little bit more about what happened yesterday. I remember Jazmine, harassing me, like always. Then I remember her hitting me. And I remember hitting back. It’s always when I refuse to walk away, that something bad happens. This, just like the first fight, is my fault. It’s always my fault.

  * * *

  “Kalani,” the doctor says. He has dark brown skin and dark brown eyes. “My name is Dr. Thom. Do you know exactly why you need surgery?”

  I shake my head. “Something about my rib?”

  Dr. Thom nods. “Yes, when you were kicked, the third rib on your left side, broke. When it broke, a few pieces of bone chipped off. Now, we have to go in and remove the fragments, because they have lodged themselves into your lung. Don’t worry, the fragments of bone did not puncture your lung severely, to the point where you’re in immediate danger, but they definitely punctured your lung enough to cause discomfort when you breathe.”

  I nod in agreement.

  “So, are you ready?” He asks.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” The doctor smiles at me, then calls in two nurses to escort me to the operating room. The nurses pull the handles up on my bed, and unlock the brakes. They wheel me through the doorway, and down the hallway. I’m beginning to feel nervous as they wheel me down one hallway, then turn left at the end of it. Then they turn right at the end of that hallway, and push me through a set of double doors. The nurses help me up onto another bed, which is skinnier than the bed I was laying on before; it’s barely wide enough to fit my body, and there’s no more room to move.

  I lay back on the bed, and try to relax.

  “Alright Kalani,” Dr. Thom says. He appears right in front of me, the light above him giving him a soft glow.

  “I’m going to put a mask for anesthesia over your nose and mouth. Then I want you to start counting down from 10.”

  I nod, as Dr. Thom grabs something from the table beside him. It’s the mask. He places it over my nose and mouth, and after a moment, I feel a small amount of air begin to blow over my face; it smells like bubblegum.

  Dr. Thom looks at me, and nods. “Start counting.”

  I take a deep breath, and then start counting. Ten... Nine... Eight... ​

  Everything begins to feel far away, like I’m falling asleep. What number was I on? Oh right... Seven...​

  Six...

  Five...

  Four...

  And then there’s nothing.

  * * *

  When I open my eyes, I’m back in my room. The only people in the room are my mom and Lucas. Everybody else must have gone home.

  “How are you feeling?” My mom asks, standing from her place.

  “It feels like I can breathe again,” I say with a small smile.

  My mom nods. Then she sits down on the edge of my bed. She’s staring at the cuts on my arms, but I’m not sure how she’s looking at them.

  “Let’s talk about this,” she says, touching my arm. “When did this happen?”

  I shrug. “When I started getting bullied at school...” Lucas makes a sound, then stands from his place. He leaves the room without a word.

  “Why did this happen?” My mom asks, after a moment.

  “I don’t know...” I say, and I don’t. “I guess I was just so sad that I didn’t care anymore...”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the things going on at school?” My mom asks. “Why did you resort to this instead?”

  “... Sometimes it’s hard to talk to you... About things...” I say. “I didn’t know how you would react.”

  My mom nods, but I’m not sure why. “Fair enough... I know that when I was your age, it was hard to talk to my mom, too. I think that maybe... That’s just a tough age to be.”

  I’m surprised that my mom seems to understand where I’m coming from. We’ve never had a conversation the way we’re having one right now.

  “I don’t want you to cut yourself anymore, Kalani,” my mom finally says. “I don’t think it will do you any good. And I think that maybe we should find a counselor, or a therapist, for you to talk to...

  And I plan to talk to your school principal, to see if she can do anything about what’s going on at school.”

  “Mom, I don’t need to see a therapist,” I argue.

  “That’s not your decision,” my mom says. “You may think you don’t need to see a therapist, but I know​ you do.”

  I don’t respond because I know that when it comes to my mom, there’s no winning the fight. She’ll always have the final say.

  “Did you trip down the stairs?” My mom asks. I look up at her, startled. She looks like she already knows the answer.

  “Who told you?” I ask.

  “Lucas did.” She says. “He said that Jazmine Davis pushed you down the stairs. Isn’t that the same girl who you got into a fight with? And who put you in the hospital?”

  I nod.

  “What else has she done to you?”

  “She spread a rumor about me at the beginning of the school year... And now everybody makes fun of me.”

  “Did you tell anybody about what was happening?” My mom asks. I shake my head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was scared...”

  My mom doesn’t say anything, not for a long time. “Well it’s like I said before. I plan to talk to your principal. Because this can’t go on any longer.”

  I nod, but don’t say anything.

  My mom is going to do what she wants. There’s not much that I can do to stop that.

  * * *

  The doctor finally let me go home, three days after having my surgery. Today is Monday. I’m sitting in my room with Lucas. I’m lying on my bed, and he’s sitting in the chair at my desk.

  “How do you feel?” Lucas asks.

  “I feel better,” I say. “My head still hurts, but my lung definitely feels better.”

  We fall back into a silence. That’s one of the things that I love about our friendship. We don’t have to talk to make the time we spend together valuable. We don’t have to do anything. We can just sit in silence, and still be perfectly content.

  “Lucas,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a question...” I begin. “
Are you... Happy with your life?” Lucas looks over at me, so I sit up to get a better view of him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean... Have you ever felt like you weren’t living your life... The way you want to?”

  Lucas stares at me for a moment, thinking. “I don’t know... I can’t find anything to complain about, so...”

  “Have you ever felt like maybe... The life you're living isn’t worth living anymore?”

  Lucas only stares at me. “I don’t know... I’ve honestly never thought about it before.

  Why?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “I was just thinking that maybe... There’s more to life than I’m getting. Like maybe I’m missing something.”

  Lucas shrugs. “I think that maybe you’re just thinking about it a little too hard.” I nod. “You’re probably right.” I say, shrugging it off.

  I don’t know if I should believe what he said or not. I don’t know if I was thinking too hard about it.

  But what I said before seems to stick with me.

  Is the life I’m living... Worth living anymore?

  Ten

  I know what my mom said: no more cutting. But sometimes, I can’t help but go against her wishes. Today I’m wearing shorts. The door is locked, as usual, and the shower water is running. I have the razor in my hand. I’m a little nervous about cutting into my leg; it’s so much more different than an arm, or a wrist. I’m not quite sure what’s going to happen. I bring the razor down to just above my knee cap. I push down, then I slice. The pain is ten times worse than a cut on the arm, in my opinion, and I let out a short screech before clamping my hand over my mouth to stop the noise.

  I look down at my leg. Blood has already started to bubble up over the cut. I take a few deep breaths in, and a few deep breaths out. Then I place the razor higher up on my leg. I slice again, this time harder, which sends more pain shooting through my thigh. This cut bleeds more than the last one, because I tried to cut deeper. I continue to slice up my leg, until there’s no more room for me to cut.

  Then I start on the next leg. I know I should probably stop, so that I don’t pass out like I did the first time I cut myself. But the truth is, I don’t care if I pass out. I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t care if these cuts mark my skin forever.