indie

thursday

she sat at her desk, head tilted back and her hair falling across her face. she blew it off, only to have it land back where it was before. this process was repeated a number of times before a sharp clearing of a throat jarred her into the present. she peered between the strands of her dark hair to find the new lady math teacher staring at her with eyes overdone in purple and blue shadow. the latter wore a skin tight purple suede dress that exhaled 80’s fumes. and her shoes made indie shudder. her mouth was naturally curved into a frown.
“and vut eggzactly ahre yoo do-ink?” she spat. the indie girl looked at her with one eyebrow raised, and flipped through a decaying math text, under the pretense of doing work. thinking she had won a great victory, the purple one turned on her heels and resumed her rounds. indie cast a sideways glance at the purple one’s poodle-permed peroxided hair. indie sneered. only thirteen more minutes. she looked down at the text, the numbers and figures swimming around lazily, boring her as they always had. not that she was stupid; far from that. she was terminally bored of school, as most subjects required simple regurgitation. nothing was learned, nothing was applied. everything was recitation. facts and rules were crammed down her throat, never explaining why. it was society’s attempt to squelch out all inquisitiveness; accept the government conspiracies, someone call the thought police. she stared at her text. she glanced impatiently at the clock, willing it to go faster. tick tick tick. seven. with a sigh of defeat she began to balance her pencil on her nose.
“hey indie!” a familiar voice called. indie looked up to see self-pity heading towards her. indie cringed; the sight of self pity made her physically sick, not to mention the smell of him. self pity was beside her, his stench invading her personal space. she drew back, the nauseating fumes of cigarettes, marijuana and body odour turning her stomach.
“yeah?” indie snapped, wishing he would leave.
“whoa, talk about pms...just wonderin’ if you’d do me a favour.” self pity said, his eyes dead and dull. indie hated that look, his pathetic look of apathy. he didn’t care about anything except girls and sex, but no girl had ever looked twice at him; he was just a loser asshole who got stuck somewhere between ninth and tenth grade for the past four years.
“what?” she asked impatiently.
“i’m just thinkin; that maybe you could get me a copy of that midterm, y’know, the new version. the one i’m takin.” self pity drawled, taking his time much to the misery of indie.
“yeah, sure, okay. whatever. i’ll put it in your locker.” indie gasped between breaths. she shot him a look of annoyance and hate. stupidly, self pity didn’t take the hint.
“so whatcha doin’ tonight?” self pity asked, a leer on his face.
“nothing that includes you.” indie spat. self pity was taken aback. although every girl had shot him down, his ego never shattered, it just bruised a bit. his reality was a twisted distortion of the truth. with an attempt at a look of nonchalance, he smiled, exposing his tobacco stained teeth, and waved as he strutted off.
“thanks, you’re a pal.” self pity called as he left. indie swallowed gulp after gulp of sweet, fresh air. as much as she hated self pity, she did pity him. he was just such an asshole that one couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; she felt sorry that he had to be so pathetic. midterm...midterm...indie could easily get a copy off prototype, the school hacker. all tests were stored on file, and when one knew their way around, it was easy. indie glanced at the clock and got up. she stuffed the books in her bag. so much for working in the afternoon. the purple one glared at her as she headed out the door.
“vhere do yoo sink yoo ahre go-ink?” the purple one asked, as indie slammed open the door and raised her middle finger in salute. the bell rang as if on cue. the halls were instantly flooded with zit-faced, pubescent teenagers, all chattering loudly. indie was promptly swallowed by a gaggle of chattering, blonde, cheerleader-type girls. indie shoved her way through the crowd as the purple one searched for her among the sea of hormones. indie’s pace quickened at the sight of obnoxion. indie grabbed his sleeve.
“you know, the violent obsesser’s still after you.” she informed him.
“tell her to get the fuck off my back or i swear to god i’ll kill her.” obnoxion threatened, pushing past her, his over-inflated ego now bloated at having been able to blow her off. indie was seething. hey, the violent obsessor wasn’t her problem. let obnoxion handle her himself, the little anal bastard. fuck, she was mad. who did he think he was? she should have kicked the shit out of him when he was a 9er. her and the mdm, the mentally deranged militia. the head of the mdm left that year, and the militia simply became non-existent. try as she might, though, she knew she wouldn’t stay angry at obnoxion for long. he just exuded this aura, this intangible personal magnetism that no girl could help but feel. indie felt like screaming. a hand touched her arm, and indie whipped around. it was cadet.
“hey, indie, you okay?” cadet asked. cadet was always so perceiving. she could read moods as fast as indie changed them.
“yeah, i’m fine.” indie said, trying to control her anger by taking deep breaths.
“good, cos you know tonight mechanic’s having that party. you’re coming, of course, aren’t you?” cadet asked. indie shrugged, trying to remember what else there was to do. “well, you know zero’s going, so’s skater, acid, mohawk, the usual crowd.” cadet prompted. they were a group of social outcasts which indie had somehow found herself in.
“i’ll try.” indie promised vaguely. cadet flashed her a smile and disappeared. indie trudged down the stairs and was swept along by the crowd. god, she needed a cigarette. indie pushed open the doors of the school, doors she would be free of in a matter of weeks. she could have dropped out, now that she was free of her parents’ tyranny, but she wasn’t that stupid.
“indie!” indie turned sharply at the sound of the face’s voice. the face had saved her, taken her in after she had left home. he had been both a stranger and a lover at the same time. she never really knew him, yet she knew him all too well. had provided for her, taken good care of her, that was all that mattered at the time. then she made the mistake of loving him. indie pushed the past from her mind. he was standing beside his car, holding the door open for her. indie sneered at him and continued on her way. she wasn’t going to forget his little escapade with blondie that quickly. face slammed the door and drove off, his wheels screeching, leaving black stretch marks on the road. he wasn’t going to beg for a woman’s forgiveness, much less a younger woman’s pardon. he’d never stoop that low. for now, indie was staying at her friend lisp’s place. she could stay there forever; lisp was always out somewhere with someone. she deliberately took the long way home to avoid any gossips who might have witnessed the tableau. when she arrived at lisp’s, she found obnoxion sitting on the doorstep.
“i acted like an asshole and i apologize.” obnoxion said. indie was shocked. obnoxion never apologized for anything he’d done.
“what do you want?” indie asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“can’t a guy say sorry without getting the third degree? c’mon, let’s kiss and make up.” indie pushed her way past him to the door.
“aren’t you going to say anything?” obnoxion asked. indie was about to close the door in his face when his hand smacked against the door, holding it open.
“listen, indie, i apologized. okay? now about the violent obsessor...” indie sighed. always someone wanting something. did it ever end?
“she’s your problem, not mine.”
“hey, she’s your friend.”
“fine. if you want my advice, tolerate her until her obsession wears off.”
“any appealing options?”
“become an untouchable.” she said simply. supposedly, there were 5 categories of males which were deemed untouchable: male relatives, male relatives of friends, attached males, friends’ exes of less than a month, males which hold superiority. obnoxion thought over the possibilities.
“well, i’m not related to her or any of her friends, nor have i ever gone out with any of her friends, and i don’t hold any authority over her whatsoever. i guess i’ll just have to become attached. so, indie, i hear you and face broke up. what’re you doing Friday night?” indie stared at him. obnoxion? the only time he ever dated was when he needed something, and she wasn’t about to cater to his needs. with a shove, she closed the door and locked it.
“indie, c’mon, it won’t be that bad. indie? indie! c’mon, you’re her only friend other than that weird nerd guy, and i’m not about to be a fudgepacker for her.” indie deafened her ears and went down to the basement, which had become her living quarters. the cool dark basement was one large room, with doors leading to the laundry room and to a small bathroom. a mattress lay in the corner, an old dresser against the opposite wall. a fat old sofa sat dejectedly on the other side of the room next to an ancient, battered comp, spasmodic television and cd player. she turned on the stereo and turned up the volume until trent reznor’s voice drowned out that of obnoxion’s. she looked around her. lord, the place was a mess. clothes were strewn about the room. she suddenly felt sick of the mess that so closely resembled her life. indie dumped the clothes into a basket and headed for the washing machine. she loaded it, thinking about obnoxion’s offer. it couldn’t be that bad, could it? she had once loved obnoxion; there was something about him that always made her want to be with him. what had changed all that? a suspicious and familiar pain throbbed in her head. she rubbed her temples resignedly. indie wandered back into the main room and dug around in a drawer. her fingers found the bottle of aspirin automatically. she opened the bottle and swallowed some of the bitter white pills. she flopped down onto the mattress, closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the manufactured sound of nine inch nails and drifted off to sleep.

*
“indie..indie..” indie groaned as she strained every muscle to move away from the voice. she couldn’t move. her body simply didn’t respond. she felt as if her body were a leaden weight. lisp shook her gently.
“indie..get up. someone’s on the phone for you.” indie forced open her eyes and searched the thick darkness for lisp.
“wha? time?” she asked thickly.
“it’s about 11:30. you’ve slept ever since you got back. well, i think it’s obnoxion on the phone. he says he really wants to talk to you.” with much effort, indie sat up and groped for the phone beside the mattress.
“hello?” indie asked groggily.
“hey, ind, it’s me, obnoxion. hey, how’s your head? lisp told me about it; she’s great, eh? she’s gonna get me into one of valium’s parties. i don’t know how she does it, but she always knows where every party’s gonna be and who’s doing it. it’s almost as if she’s some kinda psychic. y’know, valium does the best parties. there’s one tomorrow night. friday. wanna go?” indie sat thinking as lisp shoved a bottle into indie’s hand. she took a drink, the sweet liquid burning a path down her throat. vodka. lisp passed indie some more aspirin which she washed down with some more ethanol.
“i don’t know. got stuff to do.” indie muttered.
“well, if i see you, i see you. lisp knows where it is.” obnoxion hung up. indie sighed and leaned back. the pain in her head was beginning to lessen.
“so, you going to valium’s tomorrow night?” she asked lisp.
“yeah, well, you know valium and me...wanna go?” lisp asked brightly. although lisp was no stranger to the dark side, she still spoke in the soft, fearful voice of a child, as if she were unsure of what to do. it always seemed as if it were the first time she had a drink or smoked a cigarette. sometimes she still coughed gently on the first drag. guys were always attracted to her pretence of sweet innocence, taking her under their wing, taking care of her and making sure that nothing ever bad happened to her. for the last month or so, she had been valium’s newest protégé. she had access to anything she wanted; valium controlled a lot around there. indie had warned her not to get mixed up with valium’s crowd, but she merely laughed. lisp never took anything too seriously. indie became aware that lisp was waiting for an answer. she hadn’t been to one of valium’s parties for a long time.
“yeah, sure. i’ll go.” indie knew that she wouldn’t be pushed into doing something she didn’t want to with lisp around. she thought back to a couple months ago, when she had been to one of orchid’s parties. she got coaxed into toking up some unknown stuff; she hadn’t bothered to ask. she didn’t remember much about it; anything she did remember was distorted and bent out of shape as if she had been hallucinating. none of her memories of that night made sense; it seemed an out-of-control blur. the worst thing was waking up in a strange bed in a strange room, beside nitroacid. she remembered the shock and surprise she felt, mixed in with fear, especially when she’d missed her period, and even more fear when she missed the next one. she made an appointment with the doctor, only to find out that she was two and a half months pregnant. somehow her parents had found out. her parents had snapped. they screamed at her, blaming her for all their problems, accused her of being so blatantly stupid. she hadn’t felt ashamed or mad at herself, just violently angry. they never understood anything. for the first time in her memory, she had screamed back at them that night. she remembered being hit and hitting back, scratching, spitting, colourful language filling the room like so many butterflies. she remembered giving up and succumbing to the blows raining down on her body, and finally numbness. not that she didn’t feel the pain, she just didn’t care anymore. her parents had left her on the floor bruised and silently crying, left her to die, left her to fend for herself against the scavengers that had come to pick out her eyes. your death is my life, they had whispered as she spun around in a whirlpool of darkness before she finally gathered what was left of herself. she had felt her baby seeping bloodily out of her abdomen; already she knew it was dead. she wouldn’t give her parents the satisfaction of seeing her die as well. it was then that she decided to leave. and it was then that she ended up with face. indie took another drink from the bottle and laughed, a cynical, sarcastic laugh. well, too late for regrets. she’d made her decision and she was going to live with it. she thought back to obnoxion’s offer. surely it wouldn’t be that bad if he could just get over his conceit. she’d see tomorrow night. she glanced at the clock. 12:13 am. too late to do any homework, but she didn’t really care. she placed the bottle on the floor beside her bed. she could hear lisp scuffling around upstairs, probably getting ready to go out to some party. indie knew she wouldn’t be getting back until early in the morning. she admired lisp, how she had the courage to just up and leave, how she never concerned herself about her future and so never went to school, how she could face the fact that her family had shipped her off and put her in her own little house, so that they wouldn’t have to acknowledge her existence. how she could live with herself. how she could adapt to new situations. indie could never do that. she needed something stationary in her life, something she could rely and depend on to always be there, somewhere where she’d always belong, something to ground her. that something had been school, pathetic as it seemed. indie enjoyed the stability of it all, something she’d never had before. she hated the work, but that was the price to pay. another reason she had never quit school was that it had never really occurred to her. it was as if she were watching a very bad movie: she hoped fervently that it would end soon - it was all so predictable and boring - but she didn’t have the courage to leave in the middle of it. something good might happen at the end. and of course, nothing good ever did happen, and one breathed a long-held sigh of relief when it was all over.
“indie? i’m going out, one of mechanic’s parties. you know how they are, so if you need anything ask now or forever hold your peace.” lisp called down the stairs, cutting into indie’s reverie like knife through gauze.
“no, just have a good time, be careful.” indie said.
“okay, i’m gone!” the door slammed. indie’s stomach growled promptly. she shoved herself off the bed and trudged upstairs to the kitchen. she flipped on the lights and winced at their bright glare. she wandered over to the fridge and looked inside. nothing except for a few beers, a shrivelled cucumber and some bottles of expired medicine. she sighed. why had she expected food? there never was any in the house except for immediately after grocery shopping. and even then there wasn’t much. most of their money had gone into the house. indie’s bank account was slowly diminishing. there was no more than $130 left in her account from all her money carefully saved up for university. the idea of going to university seemed absurd, even perverse. it was like a childhood dream that suddenly seemed naive and stupid. indie wondered where she’d get more money. lisp, however, always had a bountiful supply. she paid for most of the expenditures. indie didn’t know where she got the money but she never asked and lisp never told. indie thought that one of her many benefactors graciously gave her money, but she never quite knew. indie crawled back downstairs onto the mattress. it was too late to do work, to do anything but sleep. that’s what most of her time had been spent doing lately. one more night didn’t matter.

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