Something Tragic

Chapter One: Auricomous

Auricomous (adjective): having golden or blonde hair

IT STARTED LIKE THIS…

When they met, it was not of their own accord. In fact, they never would have crossed paths if it wasn’t for the project. They were juniors, and Addison was the quiet, new girl. Having to move in with her uncles after the fire was one of the most difficult things she ever had to endure. Tragic, really. Life always seemed to turn out that way for Addison.

They were in the same Advanced Placement English class. English. Addison couldn’t fathom a girl like Crisa Grayson even opening a book, let alone completing AP level homework. Pretty girls like Crisa got things handed to them because of their Marilyn Monroe looks. She was surrounded by a loyal posse; in this case, a Rylie and an Olivia, who stood by her side. The trinity of popularity ran the school while Addison - poor, innocent, nerdy Addison - barely even existed on the social radar.

Before Addison knew who Crisa was, she knew who Crisa was. Crisa Grayson, it seemed, was the type of girl that everyone wanted to talk about. Most of the rumors were typical gossip.

"Crisa Grayson can do a keg stand for over five minutes."

"Her family's loaded."

"I heard her mom got her a fake ID, so she could buy alcohol."

"Her parties are epic!"

"And exclusive."

"Not the New Year’s one. And those are freaking legendary!"

Some just seemed outright ridiculous.

"I heard she dyes her hair with melted gold."

While others made Addison feel uneasy.

"Isn’t she seeing an older guy?"

"I heard he’s in college."

"I heard he graduated college."

"That’s why she sneaks around after school to go see him."

"More like—have sex with him."

Addison didn’t like those rumors. Regardless, one thing proved unanimous: Everyone wanted to be friends with Crisa Grayson. Everyone but Addison. She knew her place.

***

From the back of the room, Addison watched Crisa sitting at her desk between her sidekicks. She admired the way Crisa’s blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. It was opposite of the braid Addison often sported in an attempt to tame her unruly strands.

Over time, Addison noticed Crisa’s habits of texting in class, passing notes, and smiling as she doodled in her notebook. She also noticed Crisa never got in trouble. If Mr. Jackson was ever aware of her rebellious behavior, he never mentioned it. Or maybe that was just part of Crisa Grayson’s charm.

Addison redirected her attention to reading their Greek tragedy, scoffing aloud at Oedipus' stupidity, only to result in heads from around the room turning in her direction. Her eyes descend to her desk as she tried to ignore the burning her cheeks. After a beat, she raised her gaze to inspect the classroom. All eyes had returned to the instructor, save for a pair of captivating blue ones. Crisa Grayson looked back with her sparkling eyes before eventually retreating to her notebook.

***

A month passed, and Addison assimilated into the hierarchy of Parkville High School. She was at the bottom, but at least she had a place, and she intended to stay within the status quo. That was, until she heard the words that would change her life forever.

Crisa will partner with Addison. Mr. Jackson decided.

Crisa turned her head, gaze catching Addison’s as her pink lips slanted to the right. Addison’s eyes widened before returning to what she hoped was an impassive expression. How did Crisa know who she was? And why was one of the most popular girls in school smiling at a lowly band geek like her? Shouldn’t she be rolling her eyes protesting that Mr. Jackson pair her with Rylie or Olivia.

She didn’t. After class, Crisa exited with her posse, just as she did every day. Today though, she strolled to where Addison was still gathering her things and slipped a small Post-it note onto the desk as she passed. Her eyes never left Olivia as they continued to chatter until they were out the door.

Addison,

Project after school? Text me.

-Crisa

555-221-6251

***

Addison had band practice after school and texted Crisa she would be free afterwards. She twirled her drumsticks to the beat of her step as she proceeded towards the practice rooms. As she went, she passed by a large group of high school elitists, including her new project partner.

Crisa was leaning against the lockers, glowing among friends and drooling boys. Most of their eyes rested lower than they should as they spoke to her, but Addison didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her life. She didn’t know Crisa. Though a part of her was rather curious to.

Addison scampered past, pressing herself as close to the far side of the hall as she could. Crisa gave her a quick once over, and Addison caught that similar glimmer from the classroom in Crisa’s stare. The whole event ended in a flash as Crisa returned her attention to a scruffy senior boy. Addison didn’t know much about him, except for the fact that he was Bradley Burk. The Bradley Burk: arguably the hottest senior boy in the school. At least, to most people. Addison Warren was not one of those people.

With a blatant disrespect, Bradley chatted to Crisa’s chest. She seemed unfazed and continued their discussion. Addison shook her head and carried on.

***

After a taxing rehearsal, her arms ached, and her head pounded from the Russian march the band had drilled. She popped her earbuds in, hoping the sound of acoustics would ease the throbbing behind her eyes. A forest-green Saturn rounded the corner and the driver pulled up, honking the horn at the unsuspecting percussionist. Addison’s eyes shot open as she examined her surroundings.

The passenger side window creaked open, revealing a familiar blonde in the driver’s seat. Get in loser, we’re going shopping.

W…what do you mean?

"Mean Girls. Crisa replied as though it was obvious. Haven’t you seen it?"

Addison wrung her hands around her wooden drumsticks. Yeah, but we’re not really going shopping, are we?

Blue eyes twinkled. I wish. But we have a project, so let’s go.

Addison took her time approaching the vehicle, still wary. After all, aside from having class together, Crisa Grayson was a stranger. A beautiful, intimidating stranger.

Come on! Crisa laughed. I don’t bite.

Addison climbed in and placed her bag at her feet, shuffling as close to the door as possible.

"Look just a little more uncomfortable, why don’t you?" Crisa teased, her eyes never leaving the road.

Sorry. Addison dropped her gaze to her lap. She tried to occupy her mind with other things. She counted the number of beats per second in the overplayed pop song blasting through the radio. She watched the pebbles on the floor dance against the vibration of the loud motor. Maybe that’s why the music was booming, a way to drown out the overwhelming grumble.

I don’t really want to go home. Dad’s not there and Mom’s a bitch. You good with working at the library?

Addison swallowed uncomfortably, before Crisa let out a bark of a laugh.

Geez. I’m kidding! Lighten up, will ya? A chuckle preceded the flip of blonde hair over her shoulder. As it came floating down, Addison noticed a small patch of darkened skin on Crisa’s neck. She couldn't recall seeing that earlier this afternoon. She wondered if it was from 'the older guy', whose lips had latched onto that porcelain skin. She wondered why she even cared.

I just don’t wanna be at school or at my house. I mean, we could walk, I guess. You obviously don’t have a car.

Addison blushed. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her lack of driving abilities or the depression she’d struggled to overcome. She hesitated to voice her thoughts; but it didn’t appear to be of any concern to Crisa.

It’s not a big deal. I didn’t have a car until a few months ago either. Crisa stroked the steering wheel with affection. Addison fought the urge to smile at the endearing look bestowed on the inanimate object. Not everybody can afford a new BMW, but I’ve got the next best thing. Just call me chauffeur.

I’d rather just call you Crisa, Addison mumbled to herself.

The car slowed to a stop as they approached a red light. Well, look who’s actually funny. Addison looked up to see a shining ocean of blue twinkle in amusement. The corner of her mouth angled upwards as she attempted to hold the intensity of Crisa’s gaze until an impatient blaring from the vehicle behind them jolted them apart.

Crisa stepped on the gas.

***

How was dorkestra? Crisa shouted through the rolled window. She sat in the driver’s seat, answering a few text messages, as she waited for Addison to get settled.

It had been two weeks of working on the project and the partners had since transitioned from the library to working at Addison’s house. Crisa’s hickey had faded, and Addison almost wondered if she had imagined it being there in the first place. During their time together, Addison learned that though Crisa carried herself in a way that could only be described as captivating, she otherwise acted like any other teenager, despite what the rumors insinuated.

Addison strapped herself in as Crisa tossed her phone into the cup holder and started the engine.

You know, it’s really not that bad.

I’m sure. Was that a hint of a smile?

Really, it’s not!

I know! Crisa rolled her eyes. "I’m agreeing with you. It’s not bad."

Yeah right. Addison narrowed her eyes in the same manner of sarcasm. I’m not dumb, you know.

Crisa released a laugh, husky and pretty, into the air. I know. That’s why I’m glad I get to be partnered with the class brainiac.

Addison glared.

Okay, you’re pretty cute too. Crisa winked.

That was unexpected. Since they started spending time together, a feeling started brewing in Addison's stomach. But Crisa was so painfully out of her league and so…straight.

You okay?

Addison shook her head until the thought rattled away. Headache.

We don’t have to do anything today. I could just drive you home, and you can just chill. I think we’ve made pretty good progress so far anyway. The smile didn’t quite reach up to Crisa’s eyes.

Was that…disappointment? Addison nodded, and they pulled into her driveway moments later.

You gonna be okay? Crisa’s brows knotted together in concern. Her tone was so genuine Addison unlocked the front door without a second thought, holding it open.

Want to just come in for a bit?

***

Addison hung her keys on the hook by the door and carefully unlaced her shoes, placing them neatly in the foyer. Crisa, in contrast, resolved to prying each heel out with her toes before kicking off her shoes.

Could you be a little neater? Addison squatted to retrieve the haphazardly removed Converse, aligning them beside her own.

Crisa shot her a cheeky grin, accompanied with the biting of her lip.

Addison chuckled. Why can’t you keep things nice and straight?

Crisa suddenly tensed with visible discomfort. Do you mind if I get us a drink? Without waiting for an answer, she headed in the direction of the kitchen as Addison watched, befuddled. Had she said something wrong?

Crisa returned with two glasses of water in hand. Her troubled expression was minimized by her shining eyes.

Addison tried not to dwell on the abrupt change in mood while she extracted her textbooks from her bag. Crisa withdrew a novel from hers and burrowed into the cushions, phone in hand. She occasionally typed for extended periods before returning her attention to her book.

Why don’t you ever want to go to your place? Or like, just stay at the school library? Addison closed her calculus book, too distracted to focus on anything but the puzzling girl in front of her.

Ahh, you’ll have to buy me dinner first, if you want to know my secrets.

Addison had a feeling it was more than that…that Crisa was embarrassed to seen with a pity-case nerd. The project was a month long. In high school terms, that was plenty of time to completely downgrade someone’s reputation. You wouldn’t actually want me to do that. I’d damage your street cred.

Not true, I like hanging out with you.

Alone doing homework? Addison tilted her chin at the books scattered around them.

Alone doing anything. Crisa reached out her hand, giving Addison’s a squeeze that caused her lungs to constrict.

Umm, anyway… Green eyes forced themselves to tear away, as Addison pried her hand from the gentle grasp. What’re you reading?

The corner of Crisa’s mouth twitched. She held up the book, rotating it for Addison to see—The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

How is it?

"It’s good. Here, listen, ‘There is a universal language, understood by everybody, but already forgotten. I am in search of that universal language, among other things. That’s why I’m here.’" She leaned against the couch with a wistful sigh. Her eyes closed, and a small smile fashioned across her contented features.

Addison observed her, as the grin transformed into a smirk before Crisa spoke again.

I can hear you thinking.

Addison guiltily ducked her eyes.

What’s up?

Addison peeked out from behind her curtain of hair. Crisa giggled, tucking a strand behind her ear. There it was again, that feeling.

Can I ask you a question?

Didn’t you?

Addison frowned, resulting in another small chuckle. Alright fine. What’s your question?

Why’re you taking AP English? It just, well, kinda doesn’t fit you. Addison grimaced. Her words may have come across as too harsh or a bit out of line, but Crisa sat patiently waiting for her to finish. I mean…I just don’t see you as the type to hyper-analyze literary themes and stuff.

Crisa shrugged. I’m not. Honestly, I kinda hate it. No offense.

That’s okay. Addison liked to overthink things. She was good at it. So why the class?

Crisa fidgeted. I don’t know. I like the escape, I guess. I don’t really pay attention to symbolism or the metaphors. I just like the plot. Different places, you know? You can pretend to be the characters, and they take you away from your own life.

But you’re perfect, Addison blurted. I mean, your life is perfect. Why would you want to change it?

Crisa’s shoulders drooped. I’m not as great as you think.

Addison shook her head. "No way! You’re popular and gorgeous and everybody loves you. I think it’s pretty obvious that it’s not just me that thinks that."

Glorified tales of Crisa Grayson floated in the halls of Parkville. They were whispered between bathroom stalls, written in pages of tattered notebooks, and stuffed in the backs of metal lockers.

You’re sweet. Crisa smiled, but the tone in her voice was almost…sad?

She reached for Addison’s hand, pulling it into her lap. "So, what’s your story, Addison Warren?" Crisa’s eyes remained focused on the random doodles her finger was tracing on the back of Addison’s hand. A hand that was now clammy and gross.

What you see is what you get, pretty much. Addison pried her hand away to rub her sweaty palms against the fabric of her jeans. Orchestra dork, nerdy, socially awkward…that’s about it.

Like I’m gonna believe that for a second. There’s more in there you don’t want to share. Crisa tapped Addison’s temple gently before pausing, her expression softening. I get it, though. I’m the same way. But I’ll get it out of you. She patted Addison on the knee, solidifying her determination. Even through the fabric, heat from that touch pooled in Addison’s gut.

Addison cleared her throat, trying to expel the feelings. I should get back to studying. Her eyes fell to her textbook, and she did her best not to look at the enigma.

Addison could hear the pounding in her chest. The only sound between them was the scratching of Addison’s pen and the occasional flip of a page. Her peripheral vision made her hyperaware of Crisa’s every move as she switched from her book to tapping on her phone.

This was nice. Crisa’s raspy voice broke through the air. We should hang out more. Outside of the project.

Addison choked on her own saliva, grasping for the glass of water on the coffee table.

Blue eyes watched in mild amusement.

She downed the entire glass before speaking. "You want to hang out with me?"

Yeah, why not?

This had to be some sort of a joke.

You’re so cool and popular and I’m so not.

Oh, whatever!

I wouldn’t fit in with your friends.

So, then we won’t invite my friends. Crisa waved a hand, picking up her place in The Alchemist. Just you and me. Blue windows peeked up over the edge of the pages. The rest of her face was obscured from view, but Addison still saw the creases by her eyes.

Okay. She returned a smile of her own.

Chapter Two: Vagary

Vagary (noun): a whimsical, wild, or unusual idea, desire, or action; an unpredictable or erratic action, occurrence, course, or instance

GRANT GAVE HER A loving squeeze, patting her head. Have fun, kiddo! Go crazy, but not too crazy. Addison and Crisa had decided to take a break from the project and hang out on the weekend.

Where are we going? Addison asked that Saturday evening. The curiosity had been eating away at her as the anticipation built.

Addison assumed Crisa’s Saturday nights typically revolved around house parties and dancing. That’s what the rumors said anyway. Crisa Grayson was a party girl, and judging by the stories, she was pretty good at it. But a popular girl wouldn’t have taken Addison with her to something like that. Not after she’d suggested they be alone. Alone. The idea of being with Crisa without homework to use as a distraction made Addison’s heart race.

It’s called a surprise for a reason. Crisa rolled her eyes with a grin.

Addison didn’t like surprises. The last time she was surprised, it ruined her life. The Saturn approached a yellow light, still plenty of feet ahead of them. There was a cop car staked out on the side of the road and Addison watched Crisa eye up the vehicle, a devilish air of defiance manifesting in her eyes. Addison knew what she was thinking.

Don’t! We’ll never make it!

Challenge accepted. Crisa squared up the light and the car lurched forward.

This is bad. This is definitely bad. The engine groaned in protest of their acceleration and the Saturn ended up crossing the intersection just short of the light turning red. Sirens blared, and Addison caught sight of lights flashing in the rearview mirror. She slumped in her seat, expecting Crisa to admit defeat and accept their fate. Addison mentally calculated her allowance. She hoped the speeding ticket they were sure to receive wasn't too hefty.

Crisa floored it.

Addison’s eyes widened in horror. What’re you doing?

I got this. Crisa took a sharp turn, veering into a busy shopping center. She flung the car into one of the free spaces in the crowded lot before killing the engine.

Get down! she commanded as she yanked Addison’s sleeve. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as they ducked for cover. Crisa was panting and Addison’s breath caught. It was quiet.

Crisa started to lean across the center console and Addison’s heart pounded against her ribcage. For a split moment, Crisa's eyes dashed to Addison's lips before changing direction. She peered over Addison’s shoulder to look through the window.

Crisa’s rich, raspy laughter filled the cramped vehicle and drowned out the thudding in her ears.

Okay. He’s gone, Crisa said triumphantly, pleased with herself. I think we’re good!

We just outran a cop! The realization finally sunk in. It was free-spirited, wild, and bordering on reckless, just like Crisa.

We did. Crisa beamed, eyes shining. She reached out, binding her arms around Addison’s shoulder, expelling a giddy squeal. Crisa had held her