Bitter Sunshine

Peppy's Pizzeria

Water.

That's all I feel- all I see. I'm surrounded and trapped, a prisoner to it. I attempt to move my limbs, but they can't. They won't work because I need-

Air.

It is not a craving. It is not want. I need it right now. The thought consumes me more than the water itself. I'm swallowed whole by it.

Air. I need air.

That's when my panic settles into acceptance.

I accept it.

I want air. This water doesn't have it.

The growing darkness, gnawing at my skin and mind, has what I need.

The limbs I once willed to move now have stilled on their own volition. The cold- had it always been there?- has conceded itself to the stronger being. The darkness. It turns the cold into a numbing chill. I'm frozen. I'm dying.

I'm not dead yet.

Why aren't I dead yet?

My lungs can't hold out any longer. They love the darkness. I love the darkness. I welcome it with open arms.

Then a cold metal pricks my lifeless skin. The metal is somehow colder than me. My numbness turns into an excruciating pain as I feel myself lifting from my prison.

Just like that, my head raises above the water, and I collapse. The darkness has turned into a dull blackness- not quite as inviting, but better than the blurry vision before me.

The blood mixed with chlorine on the blue tile.

My body flings upward, sweat covering my skin. Gross. I look like I just ran a marathon. Based on the violet sky outside my window, I guess it's time to shower.

I haven't had a nightmare like that in months.

It's probably just first-day jitters. Yeah, that's it. They normally come from stress.

Yesterday hadn't been my ideal way to start the year. Kayla skipped the last two periods, (mysteriously leaving the same time Jarin did), and Shay constantly complained about leading track try-outs after school. Both were busy or gone by the time the last bell rang.

Of course, leaving me with no ride.

Adam had pulled up to me in his Jeep, offering me a ride. Me, being the stubborn person I am, politely declined in hopes of finding anyone else to give me a lift. Once he drove away, the universe decided to add the cherry on top of the crap sundae.

It started raining.

Hallelujah, thank the Lord for Cynthia Barkley, my savior of the night. I had practically begged my lab partner to drop me off on her way. She wasn't too keen on it, but in her defense, I looked like a tsunami hit me.

But today was different.

Today it will be better than yesterday's fiasco-

-or worse. It definitely could be worse.

I could get hit by a bus, or Kayla's car could break down, or I could spill my coffee, or the school could run out of pizza; I could go on and on with possibilities.

Just hopping off my bed sets forth a chain reaction of analyzing. Thoughtfully, I calculate the amount of time I have to shower and dry my hair. Plus, I need to squeeze in breakfast for utmost brain performance. And I need to wake Mom up before I leave.

Is it wrong to hate life? Not hate life in the suicidal, depressed kind of way.

The I-hate-life-because-I'm-tired kind of way.

The last thing I want to do right now is get up. All night, I binged Teen Wolf reruns in the living room, refueling with an hourly cup of coffee. Hey, cut me some slack. I always run out of time when it comes to TV.

And if one thing comes close to my love of pizza, it's my love of Teen Wolf.

Perhaps I could have spent my night more responsibly... but I have no regrets. What is high school without depressingly dull binge nights, dressed in Dylan O'Brian and Tyler Posey?

After covering up the aftermath of my night- dark under eyes and a rat's nest- I am out the door and in the car. Kayla's sipping coffee in the driver's seat, sunglasses perched on her nose.

No Shay.

"Where is our favorite Arab?" I joke halfheartedly. It was an unusual sight to see half of our trio. We were like the three musketeers; it was either all of us or none of us.

Kayla merely shrugs. "She said skipping today. Can you believe it?"

No, no I can not.

"I pulled into her driveway and was greeted by none other than Man of my Dreams. He said something about having a siblings day, or whatever. I don't know, I was too distracted by his very being to pay close attention. Did you know he got a haircut? I definitely didn't, and might I say, he looks almost unholy. Do you think I look fine? I bet you I look like a depressed hooker next to him. Oh God, Ly, do I look like a-"

"Red, Jesus Christ, stop talking," I interrupt. The active volcano that is her mouth finally shut.

A "siblings day?" Van was cool and all but was never an actively loving brother. Throughout every vacation, I'd get calls from Shay with endless complaints on how her brother is acting. Kayla might have missed it, but Van was obviously covering up for her.

I trust Shay, but I can't relinquish the curiosity biting at my mind.

The rest of our drive is filled with mindless chatter. We of course discuss our Saturday plans.

"No Red, no bringing Jarin," I repeat for the millionth time.

She rolls her eyes. "Come on. Wouldn't that be better than going home with a total stranger?" I couldn't hold back my sarcastic laugh.

"It's the same thing. The only thing you know about that guy is his name and the size of his d**k," I scoff.

"Seven."

"What?"

"You said the size of his d**k," Kayla smirks, "and I said seven."

"Gross!" I squeal, covering my virgin ears. I've already heard enough about her s*x life to last a life time.

"Oh grow up," she laughs as I try to contain the bile in my throat.

Unlike the newfound "rebellious" Shay, I do not skip school. I need all the good merit I can get to afford college and leave this crap town. However, I am no stranger for sneaking out to lunch. The poor excuse of pizza can only satisfy one's needs for so long.

Hence, the reason why I am currently in line at Peppy's Pizzeria.

It's a small building in the distant corner of South Bay. Due to its inconvenient location, it's the most obscure a place you can get here. That doesn't deny the fact that they have the best pizza, though. Domino's has nothing on these guys.

I've always wondered if Peppy was a real person. Is it his name? Is it a pseudonym? Is it some made up gimmick, like Little Caesar's? The world may never know.

These were the thoughts running through my head when I saw them.

Tucked in the back of the room, pressed against the unwashed table, was Shay. Scratch that, Shay plus a mystery person with their tongue shoved down her throat.

The dim lighting makes them look like blurry animals. Horny animals.

Christ, her fingers were practically tearing off mystery person's scalp.

I look between the Animal Planet scene unfolding and the cash register. Pizza or friend. Deliciousness or impending fight.

Sometimes I wish I was a worse person.

Slowly, I eased my way across the restaurant. What do you say to this? "Hey Shay, I know you lied to us about where you were, and I notice the smudged lipstick on your face. How's your day?" I don't think that would go down well.

I now am standing right in front of them. Up close, I can see the mystery person's long blond hair, tied into a loose pony-tail. Hair that look strikingly familiar. Once my presence becomes known, my fear is confirmed.

There before my frozen figure stands a disheveled and confused Shay Butler and an infuriatingly smug Jenna Wallace.

Jenna fricken Wallace.

Her bubblegum-pink lips curl into a smirk. With how heavily she was panting, I'm surprised how she can form words. "Lyric, this is a surprise."

I turn to Shay, whose face is now bright red. Guilt floods through her eyes.

"Ly, I wanted to tell you guys-"

"Bullshit." She winces at my tone. It was a tone I reserved for my parents, not her.

"I was afraid okay! I didn't know how you'd react. Especially Red, she's so religious..." she trails. The smirk still evident on Jenna's face is only making this worse.

It had to be Jenna. Out of every girl in our school, it had to be Jenna. Of course I don't care she's gay. We live in the 21st century, after all. But the secrets, the person, the lies- I thought we were better than that. We are better than that.

"You think that's why I'm upset? Because you're into girls?" I half-shout. Shay doesn't respond, merely looking at me with wide eyes. I roll my eyes. "I'm upset because you lied. To your best friends, who you knew wouldn't care about this. Sure, I know it's your choice. I get that. But telling Jenna before us?"

Somewhere inside me I knew I was being unfair. But right now, staring at my least favorite person who left pink smudges all over my best friend's face, I don't care.

I just don't care.

Ignoring everything inside me that's screaming to stay, I rush out of the building without giving them a second glance.

I'm a bad person.

Because I don't feel bad right now.

I've always hated crying. Real tears of course, not the fake ones that you get when the wind's in your face. Or there's smoke in your eyes. Real, fat tears that run right off your face onto your sleeve. Real tears that make your face red. Real tears that make your makeup run in a misshapen trail of mascara.

I just find it uncomfortable. Real tears make it impossible to hide the fact that you're upset and no one can do anything about it. Usually, they can't do anything because you did it yourself. It's all you.

I took Kayla's car to drive out here, so I know I need to go back eventually. I can't just leave her stranded, no matter how easy it is for her to find a ride with one of her past flings. I've already screwed one friend over today, I'd rather not make it two.

But the idea of waiting in the Peppy's Pizzeria parking lot is very tempting. Here it's secluded- minus the few retired folks pulling in and out every ten minutes. I could lean on the car hood and let my face dry.

Wouldn't that be nice.

Hudson's POV

If there's one thing I've learned in my short lifetime it's this: Life f*****g sucks.

I actually managed to stay the whole school day, deciding that graduating and getting an actual job is my only ticket to a real life. Yet the universe hates my guts and chose to express its vendetta through towing my car.

"Wrong lane" my ass.

Of course, Dave was God knows where, leaving me stranded. Just my luck.

I sat on the concrete, wallowing in self-pity and existential crises, when I noticed a familiar red head having a heated conversation with her phone. She was the one who sat with Green Eyes at lunch. Because I had nothing better to do, I strained to hear her one-sided conversation.

Better than nothing.

Her cheeks were flushed pink as she screamed at the device. "Last time I f*****g lend you my car, Ly. You even skipped school! You and Shay both left me alone. And how the hell am I getting home, huh? You expect me to walk ten miles in sandals?" She pauses.

"So not the point! Who cares if I can hitch a ride, I want my damn car. Where even are you? Are you at home?" I was about to turn away, already bored, when her face paled.

"I'll kill them I swear. Your parents seriously suck, Ly. You're lucky we're going to the club tomorrow otherwise I'd kidnap you out of the house." Another pause. "I can always sick my dad on them for you. I don't know why you defend them."

Damn, red head had a mouth on her. But whatever she was going on about spiked my interest.

"Sweetheart, it's your lucky day. I have an open passenger seat that's just waiting for your fine ass," the ache in my side calls out.

I turn around to face a smirking Callum leaning against his black Audi. The setting sun behind gave him this ironically holy glow, as if he were an angel gracing the world with his presence. I thought by skipping lunch altogether I'd effectively avoid him. Once again, just my luck.

"I think I'll pass," I bite back. I'd rather keep my ears in tact.

Callum rolls his eyes. "You're stranded Powell. I'm being a good person. Now, be a big boy, put your pride aside, and get in my car."

With how he's standing right now- shoulders tensed and arms crossed- I can see him as the football star he's been labelled. Before I saw an over-sized beach boy. Now I see an athlete.

But of course, he's right. If I didn't want to be stuck in Hell overnight, I need that ride.

"Fine," I sigh.

"That's the spirit."

Perhaps cheerleading is right up his alley. I can picture it perfectly; Callum decked in South Bay's green and white, holding pom-poms and a smile. The way he manipulates me into doing his bidding is so cheerleading-esque it's almost comical.

"Come on Hudson, you can do it! / Get in my car, don't throw a fit!"

"Hudson please, don't put up a fight! / Buckle up and just sit tight!"

Yup. He'd totally be a cheerleader.

"Sweetheart, I know you're helplessly attracted to me, but more moving and less staring," he winks. Asshole.

We climb in on our respective sides. I strap in, planting my head on the window. Hopefully I don't live too far out from him, because I'd hate to be a pain in the ass.

None of this would be happening if they didn't tow my f*****g car.

"Where to?" he hums. A forgotten '80s song plays mindlessly in the background.

"Newman Avenue. Across town."

He whistles, a smile creeping on his face. "That's pretty far. Good thing I'm only a block away."

Son of a f*****g-

"Welcome to the neighborhood, then. Heads up, there's this house on your street that's falling apart. This old man lives there- he's like 80? 70-something?- and he's your classic dickhead. Anything that touches his property line's as good as gone." He turns to me to see if I was still following, to which I assure with a brisk nod.

"Anyways, my little sister popped one of her tires by his driveway and ran to our house to tell us. When we came back, he already scrounged it for parts. The whole thing was f*****g wrecked."

He stops as if waiting for my response. I shrug. "No offence man, but what's your sister's sob story supposed to mean to me?" He laughs.

"It's not- it's a warning. I'm speaking to you man-to-man, friend-to-friend, lover-to-lover." I roll my eyes at that. "The guy's a lunatic that belongs in an asylum. Until he kicks the can, avoid him like the plague."

I scoff and turn back to the window. "I think I can handle a senile old man. But thanks."

"You're welcome," he replies, completely disregarding my sarcasm.

We spend the rest of the ride in silence. I scan my surroundings and try to soak up as much of South Bay I can get before I leave. All the neighborhoods roll by slowly. Lawns of green, backyard pools, large-ass houses.

As we pass through a poorer neighborhood, something catches my eye.

A familiar girl with blond hair is hunched on her doorstep, head in hands.

But just as quick as I see her, she's gone.