15| red

NADIA

I lay on my bed, my cheeks aching from the wide smile that had been plastered on my face for what felt like hours.

I couldn't help it - the conversation with Elijah and our time together was still so vivid, so precious, that I couldn't bear the thought of stopping the nostalgia trip anytime soon. So, I got up from my bed.

I rummaged through my old bookshelf, searching for a piece of paper to write on. Finally, I found an old notebook, its pages yellowed with age, and tore out a sheet.

I began writing, the words flowing effortlessly as I poured my heart out to Sam.

Dear Sam," I started,

"It's Red again. I can't believe the nickname you came up with for me ended up being what everybody else started calling me - mainly because I owned it, and it was the only thing I had left of you." I paused, my pen hovering over the paper as I collected my thoughts.

"I know I haven't written to you in a while, and that's partly because I had nothing to share. My parents enrolled me in a new high school, and speaking of them - I feel like they're hiding something from me, and my gut instinct is never wrong." I sighed, my mind wandering back to the strange looks and hushed conversations between my parents.

"I hope everything is going well for you, you must be old now. I wonder if you eventually got to figure out what my name was; that's if, if you really even care anymore,"

My thoughts turned to Sam, "I wonder if you think about me like I do you. Have you met anyone? Have you made any new friends? Knowing how welcoming and kind you are, you probably have." I smiled, remembering Sam's infectious laughter and warm smile.

I continued writing, sharing my news with Sam - about my new school, my counseling sessions, and my new friends. "Besides the fact that I'm attending counseling and I haven't even been to Everton High for that long (don't ask), I think things are going well for me. I met Elijah Grey's parents - I know, it sounds a bit crazy, and at first, we didn't get along, but he isn't as bad as he seems." I chuckled. 

Can you believe he can dance? And his really good at it too. He smiles when he wants to, he is somewhat bearable and his laugh? It's contagious.

Anyways, I hope you have something good going on for you as well and maybe one day... we can meet again.

Yours truly,

Red.

As I finished writing, I folded the letter and placed it in a box in my drawer, where the rest of my letters to Sam were kept. I smiled, feeling a sense of closure and connection to my past. I knew that Sam would never read these letters, but writing them was my way of holding onto the memories, of keeping our friendship alive in my heart.

I heard a knock on the door, and I knew instinctively that it was my brother, Zeke. "Come in," I said, not looking up from my frantic search for my biology book. I had my bag with me, but that one book was nowhere to be found. I scanned the room, my eyes scouring every corner, but it was nowhere in sight.

Zeke opened the door and sauntered in, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to my growing anxiety. "Hey, have you seen one of my notebooks lying around? A biology one, to be specific?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the panic rising inside me.

Zeke shrugged, not even bothering to look around the room. "Nope," he said, his response dismissive. "Maybe you forgot it at your friend's house," he suggested, his eyes fixed on his phone.

My head shot up, and I felt a surge of relief wash over me. That had to be it. I must have left it at Vicky's house. "Crap," I muttered, releasing a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Mr. Johnson had announced a surprise mini-test for tomorrow, and I was not fully prepared. Vicky and I had studied a bit of biology together before everything went haywire, but I knew she'd probably see the book lying in her room.

Just then, Zeke seemed to notice my distress. "Come, I'll help you study," he offered, his tone softening. I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden willingness to help. "Really?" I asked, skepticism lacing my voice.

Zeke nodded. "Yeah, and we can watch a movie after. I'm sure Vicky will find your book and bring it over." His words were reassuring, and I felt a small sense of gratitude towards my brother. Maybe, just maybe, this study session would be exactly what I needed to calm my nerves and ace that test.

"Mom and dad are coming sooner than we expected," "How soon?"

"They should be here just in time for your 18th." He replied and I nodded.

"I got an email from the school today," my brother said, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and concern. He was lounging on the couch, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like an insect under a microscope.

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the anxiety brewing inside me. "Why the hell are you attending counseling?" he asked, his tone incredulous. I could tell he was trying to process this new information, fit it into his understanding of our family dynamics.

I raised an eyebrow, my face a mask of neutrality. "Didn't they tell you?" I replied, my voice even. I knew my brother and I hadn't exactly been close lately, but I thought our parents would have filled him in on my therapy sessions.

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "No, they didn't. What's going on, Red? You're not...you know, messed up or anything, are you?" His words were laced with a hint of disbelief, as if the idea of me needing counseling was unfathomable.

I sighed, feeling a familiar sense of frustration. How could I explain something I barely understood myself? "It's just some stuff I'm dealing with, Zeke. Nothing major." I tried to brush it off, hoping he'd drop the subject.

But my brother's curiosity was piqued. "What kind of stuff?" he pressed, his eyes boring into mine. I knew he wouldn't let it go, not until he got some answers. And I wasn't sure I was ready to give them.

"Why don't you go and ask your little side piece, huh?" I spat, my anger and frustration boiling over. Zeke's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I didn't give him a chance to respond. "She was the one who started the whole thing," I continued, my words dripping with venom. "She came asking for stupid advice on how to get to you and made a scandal in front of everyone."

I couldn't believe I had to explain myself, that my family thought I was some naive little girl who didn't know the consequences of her actions. Everything I did, I meant it, and I didn't regret it. But they couldn't see it that way.

"You know you can't keep this whole fighting thing up, right? It's for kids, it's immature," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Can you stop?" I snapped, not wanting to hear another lecture from my brother. "I don't need you to lecture me, you're not Dad," I reminded him, my voice firm.

But Zeke didn't back down. "Clearly, but you can't keep things like this from me, Nadia," he said, his tone firm. I scoffed again, incredulous. "Oh, you want to talk about keeping secrets? You really want to go there?"

My brother's face reddened, and he took a step forward. "Oh, don't start with that," he warned, but I was beyond caring.

"Oh, you have every right to be mad at me, but you yourself didn't tell me you were involved with her?" I threw back, my anger and hurt simmering just below the surface.

Zeke's expression turned defensive. "It has nothing to do with you, Nadia," he said, his voice cold.

I laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Look, if Mom and Dad find out—" he began, but I cut him off.

"So to hell with Mom and Dad," I spat, my anger and frustration boiling over. "They never cared enough to tell me their damn secrets, so why should I?"

"I mean, they're always so quick to judge me, to assume the worst about me," I continued, my voice rising in indignation. "But they're the ones who are hiding secrets, who are lying to our faces."

Zeke's expression turned sympathetic, but I didn't want his pity. "Nadia, come on—"

"No, Zeke, you come on," I interrupted, my eyes flashing with anger. "You're always so quick to defend them, to make excuses for them. But what about me? What about what I want, what I need?"

I turned away from him, my eyes welling up with tears. "I'm so sick of this family, Zeke. I'm so sick of the lies, the secrets, the pretending. I just want out."

Without another word, I stormed out of the room, leaving Zeke looking worried and helpless behind me. I didn't care. I just wanted to escape, to get away from the suffocating weight of my family's secrets and lies.