The Ties That Bind Us: (The Ties Duet Part One) by Danda K. (best books to read for knowledge txt) 📗

her at a local Starbucks not far from the pharmacy. She continued the conversation with herself and declared me her new best friend over coffee.

That was freshman year. Now, here we are, in our junior year.

The popular, beautiful girl and her weird, quiet, introverted best friend.

The friend I’m sure everyone assumes she pities. And no matter how much she tries to get me to join her regular group of friends, I physically can’t. Not only because I don’t trust anyone besides her, but her “friends” are the biggest douchebags to me. They act nice and say hi when I’m with Milla, but only because nobody wants to upset one of the most popular girls in school.

That would be the second quickest way to commit high school social suicide.

The first way to commit social suicide? Beingme.

The second she leaves, their asshole switch would turn on, and they’d begin the name-calling. Back then, I’d flip them the bird and tell them to fuck off, and for the most part, ignore it. But recently, things have turned physical.

I haven’t told Milla anything, though. Not because I was scared of what they would do, but because I didn’t want to burden her with my bullshit. They were pros at feigning innocence anyway.

And it’s not like they did it when anyone else in the school with an actual beating heart could see. Sometimes it was in the bathroom stalls, sometimes after PE when I was left cleaning up all the weights.

I mean, let’s face it, the abuse is something I’m used to. So, being the creature of habit that I am, I continued to take their digs and jabs and brush off as much as I can. The rest is stored in that deep, dark hole inside me where I keep all my other painful experiences.

The place my dad is the sole contributor of.

Camilla grips my arm, wraps it around hers, and begins to walk up the steps, entangling me with her. Fluffing her hair on one side, she says, “Did you know there’s this handy little message that pops up on phones when we’re wearing headphones? It warns us that listening at a high volume can cause irreparable hearing loss.” She points her pink manicured finger in the air. “And it’s not just a theory. It’s science.”

Taking the earbuds out, I sigh, “Luckily for me, I don’t have a fancy phone that can tell me the future like yours can.” I eye the latest iPhone she has. I wave her iPod in her face and continue, “I like the element of surprise.”

I wasn’t even listening to anything...I just like to keep the earbuds in as a KEEP AWAY sign to any and all who are not my bubbly, blonde best friend.

She rolls her eyes. “Suit yourselfbitch, but it’s gonna be hard to listen to any of that music you love so much without your hearing intact.” She side-eyes me and smirks, knowing she got me there.

Okay, maybe she does have a point. I usually do listen to my music extremely loud.

It drowns out the world.

It drowns out my thoughts.

“Anyway...” she continues, turning in front of me, staring me down, and placing her hands on my shoulders. She gives me a little shake like she’s trying to infuse me with her cheery attitude.

When she lets go, she blurts out, “I’m so excited to start junior year! The beginning of school’s the best. Finding out your classes, which friends you’ll be with, and finally getting the chance to sit up front in Mr. Sodo’s biology class to stare at that perfect ass all period...” She shoulder-bumps me. “You should be excited, too!”

Insert gag emoji.

I stare at her blankly. “You’re hyper and enthusiastic enough about junior year and Sodo’s ass for the both of us, trust me,” I deadpan and slide to her right to walk past her.

She puts her hand over her heart to fake insult. “I’m not hyper! I’m optimistic!” With a sing-song voice, she continues, “This year’s gonna be a good one!” She catches up to me and intertwines our arms again.

I huff out a breath. “Uh, yeah, maybe for you. Miss ‘I went on a date with Shane McHarris,’ the most popular quarterback in the entire high school.” I let out a long sigh, batting my eyelashes like it’s just so dreamy.

She counters, “Nooooo, my fickle, quiet, antisocial best friend. It’s going to be a great year for both of us!”

It wasn’t until she was gone, and I was left there defenseless, that it happened.

The first shove into the locker.

Followed closely by the stares, the name-calling, and the judgment from the vultures she calls friends. It was then I knew how wrong she really was.

Because optimism is for girls like my best friend.

Optimism has no place in the world for an underdog like me.

One

Cameron (Present day)

Sunlight streams through the slits in my dark grey bedroom curtains, piercing me right in the eyes. Groaning, I raise one hand to cover my face from the rays while I reach for my glasses with the other. Once I get them on my face, I grab my phone, checking the time. 11:33 a.m. Just as my mind churns over how I slept so late on a Wednesday, I hear it.

Nothing.

No sounds from the TV, no grunting, no snoring, and no movement outside my door. There’s nothing besides the kids playing outside, enjoying what’s left of their summer in September.

I’m alone.

My mother’s been gone for two years now. I guess she finally realized she could take off without having to come back and make excuses for why she had to work so much.

Her need to “work” was her need to do what she pleased, or should I say who she pleased. With her gone, it’s just my father and me. Things aren’t peachy between us, but we coexist.

And by coexist, I mean we pass by each other, vaguely acknowledging the other still breathes.

I quickly grab my laptop and log into my work station to