Aiden

Last night was absolutely horrible. Well, considering the unbelievable headache I have now waking up. I must have drunk a lot taking into consideration the fact that I don't remember most of what happened. Everything after helping Ariel get up from the ground wasted is a blur. She must have gotten me to drink instead of letting me help her out.

 That sneaky princess.

"Aiden!"

I turn around moaning and pressing my pillow on my ears."God, Mom, why are you shouting?"

She walks into my room with her lips slowly forming a grin. I try to get myself to sit on my bed.  My entire body protests to the action.

"Aiden, you didn’t drink last night, did you?”  

She knows.

"Pfft, I don't drink mother, I just have a—um, yeah.”

She walks closer, nose crinkling. “So if I DON’T SHOUT, your mind is okay?”

I cringe, “okay! I might have.”

"You think?"

"I don't remember drinking. Judging from my state of being, I probably did."

"Well then fix that shambolic teenage state by hurrying up. You're going to be late for school. Don't forget ibuprofens and water.”

I smile. "You know what?"

She looks at me waiting for my answer.

"Come and give me a hug."

"You're definitely hung-over."

"No, come on," I say spreading my arms out to her. She starts leaving when I grab her arm and pull her on my bed.

"Oh, so you're rejecting your hung-over son's hug. That's how you want to play," I say tickling her.

She laughs and screams. I finally let her go with her hair messy.

"God," she starts saying laughing. "You are worse than your father." She leaves my room still chuckling and fixing her hair.

The advantages of having an Anna Ozim as a mother in your life are an important deal.

I hear her voice come from downstairs telling my dad how 'hilariously drunk' I am as they both laugh. I think I should be offended but I'm just happy they're not mad at me. Other parents might have shouted and screamed at me, I’m grateful that isn’t the case with them.

Frankly, I am not sure if I even drank. Aren't you only supposed to forget the parts when you actually were wasted? I don't even remember thinking about drinking.

I dress up quickly and descend the stairs. I pour myself a coffee. My mom, as usual, gives me a kiss goodbye and leaves. On the contrary, I know that my father being seated at the table isn't merely by chance or because he's tired. He wants to talk to me. I know him. Knowing his nature, he isn’t about to get mad at me or ground me, but he definitely has something to say. I sit in front of him at the table.

"I’m really sorry, Dad."

"You don't need to be," he says his head still down, looking at his hands around his mug. "As long as you don't drink and drive, you don't hurt anyone or let yourself get hurt, or you don't spend crazy amounts of money on alcohol, I'm good with you having a good time. Next time, just make sure you aren't hung-over for a school day, please."

"You know that you are really the best." He brings his head up and looks at me. He's smiling. "I didn't want to drink at all, I don't even remember drinking. I'm just guessing I did, considering the lights feel like miniature sized suns with the same power and that every sound feels like it's coming through a megaphone."

We both laugh.

"Hey, it's okay. Go to school now before you're late."

I shake his hand in the way we always do and I leave the house with sun glasses hiding my eyes and a huge smile on my face I just cannot erase.

A David Ozim has a great amount of perks as well. I'm lucky to have one.
-

I see George from far. "Hey, dude," he yells. "God, last night was epic."

He looks happier than an average teenager the next day of a party. I spotted a few people who had been to the party last night; everyone sounded like zombies: moaning and groaning.

"I'm guessing you finally asked Elina out, and she said?"

George looks like he’s about to pee of excitement. "SHE SAID YES!"

"You sound like you proposed," I say with a chuckle.

"She doesn't know it, but," he says leaning in to whisper, "that was the question I was asking her in here," he continues, pointing his brain.

I shake my head laughing.

What a loser.

I pat his back as we walk towards the school entrance.

"I'm happy for you man. Now, how hung-over are the rest of the bunch?"

"Haven't seen or talked to them since I left the party. But you don't seem good considering… you know."

"What does considering mean?"

"Considering you didn't drink," he answers as we try to avoid front tackling the passing violent and low tempered teenagers in the hallway.

"I don't remember drinking either, but why do I feel like I have a hangover? I have all the side effects."

"I don't know man, maybe you hit something hard and don't remember because of the shock."

Smart.

"Yeah, that's probably it."

We both take our different ways to our lockers.

I get pumped up on the inside when Arabella starts playing through my earphones. Arctic Monkeys is performing here the same weekend, in July, that I'll be at my grandparents' house in Montreal. When I found out about the coincidence, I had been pissed. But at least I'll be in Canada for their National Day so I'm still excited.

"Oh my God," I yell only feeling someone jump into my arms and suffocate me with a hug. The class is still empty, so no one else sees.

"God, Aiden I am so happy to see you. You won't believe what a fucking shitty morning I had."

I look down to the shorter girl hugging me and I feel bad for her a bit. For a second I want to hug her and tell her everything will be okay, but then I realize that I don't know her. Before I can say anything, she keeps talking.  I rack my head for the smallest memory of meeting her or seeing her in the halls before; but she stays a complete to me.

She is waving her arms around frantically. "I can't even go to anyone, not even Ariel, because—I don’t even know!”

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," I say pushing her away a bit. "I don't know how I could possibly help you."

"No, not you too," she says, trying to hold her tears back. Her eyes are red, I wonder if she’s gotten any sleep. She looks exhausted.

"What did I do too?" I reply.

"You don't remember me?" Big eyes stare at me, and I am almost tempted to say yes.

I scratch the back of my head, "I'm sorry, should I?"

“B-but, it’s me! You’re fixing my uncle’s car and you like my cupcakes a-and—” she hiccups, then takes a deep breath. “Nevermind, I’m sorry.”

“Are you alright?” I ask. Her disorientated state sparks worry in me, even if I don’t know her.

"No. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry I bothered you."

She quickly gets all her emotions together, fixes her sweater and starts going for the door.

"Hey, maybe I can help if you would tell me what happened."

She turns around with an emotion showing on her face I can't really identify. "Thank you, maybe I'll come to you again later."

She leaves this time. I see her run out the door and go towards a old looking Honda that I'm surprised is running.

Something about her made me want to run after her and hug her pain away, but I kept falling back on the fact that I didn't know her and that would just be weird.

I spend the day like I would spend everyday. I went to my classes and had lunch with my friends, whom were all, obviously, hung-over from the night before. Half of them sleep through their classes; which results in teachers making pranks and exiting the class along with the rest of the students to give Sleepy-heads a heart attack.  

But one thing kept bouncing off the sides of my brain. The girl from this morning was completely unfamiliar to me, but God did I feel bad for her. If she really does know me, I hope she has my number. She seemed confident she'd find me when she said that she'd come to me later, when needed. Not knowing her name makes me identify her as 'she' in my mind way more.

I walk through my front door fatigued. I don't even know why I am tired. I had a good night sleep and absolutely no physical exercise today sadly. I am just mentally tired I guess.

My phone rings. "Hello?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Is this the girl from this morning?"

"The girl has a name, and it just occurs to me that you do not know it. I'm Layla."

"Where do you want to meet, Layla?"

"At the park across First Avenue."

"I'll see you in ten."

She hangs up.

I race through the hallway towards the kitchen. I need to see Layla. Something about her is so intriguing and I just want to know what all of this confusion is about.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey buddy," he says turning towards me as I come in the kitchen flustered. "Are you okay?"

"Can I go to the park? I want to meet up with a friend. I'll make it home by six o'clock."

"Have your phone on you."

"Thank you."

And just like that, I’m out the door wondering why I’m running to the park.

The cool air is running through my coat, clinging to my frame. I love this weather; one my mother likes to judge as evil. I could walk around or sit and read in this weather for hours.

I want to know everything about this girl. How she knows me? Why I didn't remember her? Her fears and insecurities and hobbies, she just couldn't leave my mind. I’m just afraid that when I'd know everything, I'd lose interest in her.

"You're early."

I turn around to a broken looking young girl. Messy dark hair falling down on either side of her face. She’s trying to smile and I appreciate the effort. She is wearing a wrinkly jean jacket over a baseball shirt with black skinny jeans. I realize how much we dressed alike.

"I see you were already here when you called me."

"What an observing person you are," she says in a subtle sarcastic tone.

I chuckle as I throw my head down and quickly meet her eyes again.

"Want to walk?"

I beckon her with my head towards the path and she follows.

We are both walking in the same way. Silent, hands in our pockets and nonchalantly waiting for the other to start the conservation. After a minute or two, she takes the first step.

Her voice is shaky: "I asked you here because I needed to tell someone.”

"And I'm here because I want to listen."

We look at each other for a few seconds as she smiles before she continues her speech.

"Believe it or not Aiden, I was at the party last night."

I turn towards her hastily in surprise.

She giggles, “I knew that’s how you'd react. I went to the party with my best friend, Ariel, and you."

"Okay, I'll stop turning my head towards you in surprise at everything you say. I'll surely end up snapping my neck."

She laughs. She does that a lot considering her state. It makes me think how often she must have laughed before whatever happened to her.

"The party was a lot of fun, I was finally getting the attention of my long time crush Calum. But all he wanted was my body and he almost raped me in the woods. I ran away from him and met a fortune teller..."

She tells me all about how that crazy fortune teller told her that she's been waiting for her arrival. How she kept pushing to get an answer from her. It's horrible. What's even worse is the emotion she portrays when she tells me the next part.

"I came back with an ugly buttoned up jean jacket," she says with a scoff at the end. "to a group of people insulting me. Calling me the worst names after Calum started a rumor about me. How I went onto him and I was the slut. My best friend was too drunk to help me and you were no where to be seen. I had to save myself and I hated that one second I was nailing his ass to the wall and the other, I ran away to hide my tears. The last person I talked to, that I remember of, was you. I asked you to take care of Ariel before she killed her liver and I ran in the bathroom. Skipping the minor details, I threw up and fell on the floor, cold, shaking, wishing that this was all over. I heard footsteps before I fell asleep."

We both stay silent for a few seconds. I was sure she was going to continue and I didn't want whatever I would say to alter what she had originally planned to say.

"I was more unconscious than asleep, but the point is that I don't know who that person was, that entered the bathroom, and now, no one knows who I am."

"How is that possible?"

"I have no idea, but I woke up in my backyard. When I went in my house, not one single member of my family knew who I was out and I got kicked out. Ariel doesn't know me, I'm happy Calum and the others don't, but—" She suddenly gasps like she realized something.

“What?”

"The fortune teller, she asked me what my dearest wish was and I kept on wishing, in the bathroom, that everyone would forget this night and what happened to me right before that person came in. She must be behind this."

She is now looking at me with excitement and fury behind her eyes. But under them, are dark circles, in the centre, a red nose, and beneath that, a dry mouth.

"Are you hungry? You're probably really cold," I place the back of my hand on her forehead. "Ooh, you might be coming down with something."

"Aiden, stop," she says laughing and pushing my hand away. I'm chuckling as well.

I look at my watch and it's already 5:50.

"Look, your parents don't know you and you cannot go off telling everyone this story, because one, if she is behind this, this fortune teller won't like you telling this side of the story and two, so many people won't believe it which would break you even more. So, for now, this is our secret. I'll help you go on this investigation and we'll find her and try to fix this somehow, after we figure out how she did."

She keeps looking at me like she knows I'm going to say something else. "You're going to be staying at my house for the time being."

"No, come on, I can't impose that kind of responsibility on you and your parents. No way."

"Layla! You can't go through this one alone."

She doesn't want to accept, but she knows she has to.

"Fine, I'm really appreciative."

"I know you are."

"Oh okay, so one bad thing happens to me and now I'm the shy one and your the one with sass."

"Maybe that fortune teller changed our personalities too," I say staring her down with a smirk.

She looks at me the same way.

"Or maybe she didn't and you're just more comfortable with me."

"Yeah, you're probably right. That over confidence and sass of yours is back."

She hits my arm playfully and we both laugh and talk until we reach the house we will both be calling 'home' for a while.

My parents did agree easily although I know there are a lot of things that bother them of course. When I asked them, with Layla by my side, I was hoping they would remember her, maybe they'd help me remember, but like expected, they didn't. My parents felt bad for Layla and because we didn't explain the story they would most likely not believe, I had to say that she was a homeless friend I made and that I am her only chance. Which sadly, right now, is true for her. She could stay with us until she had her life figured out. A job, find some far away relatives, something that would help her live without us.

Layla would have her room.

I walk up to the door I avoided for so long. She is uncomfortably sitting on the bed looking at the colorful pictures and posters on the otherwise plain colored wall.

She turns her head in my direction.

"Can I ask?"

I nod as I approach the bed and sit by her on it.

"How?"

"So you already figured out that she was my sister?"

She unconsciously nods whilst still looking around, analyzing the room.

I take a deep breath. She's the first friend I'm going to tell the story to.

"It was two years ago, she was 11 at the time. We were both home alone. My parents were at a business party. I put her to sleep and went across the hall in my room, both our doors open. I had a watchful eye on her. At 14, I already had the complete will to protect her at all times. I went in the bathroom, for a minute or so, when I heard heavy footsteps. I let the water run so I wouldn't call suspicion if someone really was outside. I grabbed a small knife and slowly opened the door. There was a man in her room, I didn't see his face. She was crying asking for him to take anything he wanted but to leave her safe. I saw him approach my sister and when I heard her scream, I ran towards him, sunk the knife in his neck and pushed him hard towards what I thought was the wall, but he fell out the window. I ran up to my sister, pale faced, blood pouring from her chest, he had a knife too. I called 911 immediately and then, my parents. She was awake long enough to see them one last time. She gave me this before she passed on the hospital bed."

I reach towards the drawer of her desk. I made sure I wouldn't look at Layla. I knew I'd cry for sure. I pull out a bracelet she made for me.

"She was going to give it to me for my birthday."

Layla was trying to keep her tears from falling. I didn't succeed.

"That's why you don't make a big deal out of your birthday. Her passing was so close to it."

"She passed the night before. How do you that about me?"

"We were friends during your last birthday Aiden. You didn't tell me, and when I figured it out, I called you furious. I never would've known. I'm sorry."

I hate that I can't say anything in return. I hate not remembering, not knowing.

"Sometimes I just want to scream it all out."

"Then do it, we're home alone." She holds my hands and says, "Go."

She hands me a pillow. I stuff my face and scream with all my might. She has a trembling hand placed on my back. I bring my tearful face up, and watch as she is close to crumbling. I grab her into my arms and feel my shirt get heavy with her tears. I get myself together; one of us has to stay strong.

 "Layla, please let me. Come on, I want to."

"This one is on me. Gift for helping me remember?"

She hands me the perfectly iced cupcake. Our hands touch. She smiles.

The kitchen behind her disappears. No one else is in the shop except the both of us. Everything around us becomes pitch black. All I can see is the diameter around herself and I.

"Layla, what's—"

"Run," she says her voice echoing.

My feet are glued in place. I hold her hands tight.

"Let go, Aiden."

I am mesmerized by her voice.

The darkness enlarges and a man emerges out of it. She is pulled in a chokehold by him. I want to move but I can't.

"No, Layla!"

She disappears before me and I'm all alone.

All I see is a pair of red eyes suddenly appear in the dark before I disappear as well.

It's 12:03 AM. I wake up in sweat, panting for air. I lean my head towards her room door. I see her in the bed.

She's okay. I'm okay.

It was just a dream.

-

written by sarah, edited by yas.