Fireworks On A Summer Night

I've been playing dead

My whole life

And I get this feeling

Whenever I feel good

It'll be the last time

~ Phoebe Bridgers, ICU

The melting popsicle had started trickling down Bianca’s fingers. She stared at it. She’d expected it to feel more sticky, more unpleasant. But it didn’t really feel like anything, didn’t even leave much of a mark other than a faint line of orange food coloring, almost imperceptible under the dim glow of the streetlights. It had been at least ten minutes and she’d barely touched it, hadn’t made much of an effort other than a few small nibbles at the very top. The popsicle had tasted so sickly sweet, it made her want to puke. 

Kelly, Marcus and Jean had already finished theirs. They were all the way on the far end of the car park now, trying to light a new box of fireworks. A peal of laughter, a squeal. Then, Kelly shouting “run, run, run” as the three of them sprung back, a flock of birds scattering into the wind. 

A series of loud pops followed a smatter of red sparks. Then green, then blue, a halo of light casting shadows on all their faces. Kelly laughed as she danced to the tinny music blaring from the Bluetooth speaker at her feet. Jean walked over to lean against Kelly’s shoulder, beckoning at Marcus. He didn’t notice her at first, his eyes fixed on the dancing lights, but then Jean yelled and the spell was broken. He flashed her a dazzling smile, the corners of his mouth lifting with ease.

Bianca’s grip tightens on the popsicle stick. Everyone else was happy, why wasn’t she? For two blissful minutes, when they had gotten to the car park, she had managed a smile. Back then, her head had been quiet. The small, needling voice in the back of her mind otherwise incapacitated, or maybe too overwhelmed by the many moving parts of the world to do anything other than take it all in. Kelly had threaded their arms together, and for a split second, it had almost felt as though Bianca actually belonged. But Kelly had let go soon enough to get the fireworks, and Marcus and Jean had followed, leaving Bianca alone. The reminder thrumming with every heartbeat, that this was going to end. That she was going to get this one night, these few minutes of elation, before she would have to wake up again tomorrow morning. And then the flatness would come back. The empty, unending flatness, sitting in her stomach on her way to school, to class, to home.

Happiness, like those fireworks, bright for a moment but gone forever. She’d fumbled for it, a kitten propelling herself into the sky for an elusive butterfly. Opening her claws to find the creature’s paper-thin wings torn as it shuddered still. The bright colors she’d so coveted before fading into the mundanity of everything else. Could anyone blame her then, for not taking the chance when opportunity next presented itself? When everything she touched turned to dust, was it not better to leave everything, everyone alone? 

“Bianca!” Kelly’s voice shook her out of her reverie. She looked up to find the other girl beckoning at her. “Come on, you wanna light the next one?” Just like when they met on the first day of first grade. Kelly with her gapped-tooth smile, passing her the chocolates she’d brought from home. “You want one?”

Some people, like Kelly, burned bright, drawing people like Bianca and Marcus and Jean close, moths to a flame. Bianca, meanwhile, was little more than ash. Sidling up to the people she liked, hoping they’d get so used to her they wouldn’t mind her staying around. But people never came to her, not the same way they came to Kelly. Bianca had been in the same high school biology class with Marcus and Jean for two years now, and they barely spared her a minute of their time unless absolutely necessary. Not that she cared. She was terrified of them.

“I’m good,” Bianca shouted back at Kelly, gesturing at the popsicle in her hand. Her shield, her savior. So she could keep a safe distance without worrying of being left out. Because at least here, she could pretend that she might still be able to belong. At least here, she wouldn’t have to be left alone with her own thoughts, heavy shadows ready to eat her whole the first chance they got. 

People, to her, were like museum artifacts. She yearned to be around them, but she had learnt with time that it would be best to be careful. She’d already fucked up earlier tonight. Marcus and Jean had been talking, in this easy, off-handed way she’d never been able to really learn. And she’d been sitting beside them, hiding behind her phone, and she hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until she did, the word “what” hanging heavy in the air. Then silence. She looked up. Jean looked offended. Marcus shocked. She didn’t know what she’d responded to and she’d rather she never did. Neither of them talked to her much for the rest of the night.

The moment had been playing on loop in her head ever since, a sickening reminder laced with shame and regret. Sticky and heavy like the summer heat that was making her light blue tank top cling tight to her skin. She could only hope her pit stains weren’t too obvious. She could only hope she wasn’t too obvious.

Kelly placed another firework down onto the ground. She turned back towards Bianca, shooting her a smile. It felt empty. Forced. Bianca wished that she was normal. That she knew what it meant to make friends, instead of having to constantly hang out with other people Kelly knew. On most days, she wondered if Kelly stuck around because she pitied her, because a best-friend-since-first-grade friendship contract held more social significance than it was worth. She wondered if Kelly secretly hated her, hated her wet-rag ways of clinging on and being an embarrassment in front of her cooler, nicer friends.

On most days, it was hard to believe anyone in her life actually wanted to stick around.

On most days, she’d rather they didn’t. She wasn’t worth it anyways.

A spark of purple shot up, up, up. A trail of juice made its way down Bianca’s forearm. She sank her teeth into what was left of the popsicle. Cold pain shot through her jaw, ricocheting through her skull. It felt good. Or at least, this was something she could feel.