Find Layla

by Meg Elison

“Layla! Layla, don’t let them take me! Layla!”

I throw all my clothes in the washer, including the ones I have on. I put on a robe I find in the dryer. In the kitchen, I make myself a cup of tea and warm up some leftovers I find in the fridge. I sit at their table, in their silence, and I steal their life.

It’s okay, they’ll never miss it. They will never miss these twenty minutes of silence and peace. They have so much clean order they’ll never know any of it is missing.

I eat it all. The food, the light, the chair, the table. I eat Kristi’s safety and her mom’s love. I eat her stepdad’s job and her sister’s fancy college tuition. I’m stuffed with it when I put my clothes...

I stopped wondering a long time ago why some people have lives like Kristi’s while I have this one. I don’t think there are any rules on that. It’s just what we get.

The worst feeling here is that I’m not the scientist. I’m the subject. Jane’s observations on her Instagram and Bette’s decisions about my habitat will determine my fate. Someone else will get to name me and define me. I don’t want their pity, and I can’t stand the way life just keeps happening to me and I have no control.

“Your mother . . . I don’t even know what to say. I just always assumed she was a busy woman. But your grades were so good I thought she must have done something right.” “I do my own schoolwork. My grades have nothing to do with her.” Amazing how much fire there is in that one assumption. That she should get any kind of credit.

“Sorry to disappoint.” The venomous octopus is with me again, arms wrapping around my throat from the inside, where no one can see. But I’m sure Bette can hear it. I’m strangling.

I thought this would make me the scientist. I should have known that the thing that slides out of the petri dish never gets to speak for itself.

It’s Mom. “Where the hell is it?” If she sees what’s on her computer screen, the world will just explode. I’ll burst into flames. I’ll drop

He smiles back, but only on one side.

i like this description

If I were a little dumber, that would work like a charm. If I were a little smarter, I’d figure out how to see Andy and not end up getting caught. Just smart enough to survive. For now.

I finish one coffee and start another. My stomach hurts. Folgers and fear. I’m grinding my teeth and watching the door.

I look up. The look in her eyes is focused, like she’s not eating because she’s planning on eating me.

It’s a totally new feeling, and I don’t know what to call it. Parasitic, I realize. Not symbiotic. Mimicry—a venomous animal pretends to be a harmless one to get you close enough to bite. Camouflaged until I looked at her eyes instead of her eyespots for the first time.

Jane the predator. Erica the parasite.

I wasn’t allowed to cry in front of Mom since I was a baby, so it always feels like a hot octopus is ripping my feelings out of my throat.

What I want to do is set Jane on fire and post a video of me pointing and laughing, but that won’t prove anything other than that bitches be cold but also flammable.

This isn’t the first time a grown-up man has noticed that I’m alone and he could probably get whatever he wanted from me without much trouble. I tense up all over. I’m as hard and sharp as the stinger on a Clistopyga crassicaudata. I’m ready.

I hate the sweetness of his voice. It would be better if he was scary, I could run and be sure that anyone would agree with me that he was a bad guy.

I leave it and walk quickly out the door. I’m only stealing food that would have gone into the trash. If I take that money, if I say yes to some guy who offers me money, I become somebody else. Somebody like Mom. Not today.

She’s the first one I see. She’s chewing her lip nervously, and she’s holding hands with Emerson Berkeley, with his shy smile and their coordinated black hoodies. Fuck them both.

Jane to the rescue, once again. “So? She could be on a diet to make herself look skinny and sad. Okay, let’s start.”

Gosh, just shut up, brat

Mackenzie turns the camera to me, and for a minute I’m sure this video is going to go viral too because I’m going to beat everyone in this parking lot to death.

Fuck Ryan’s pity. Fuck Kristi and Emerson and their hands and their hoodies. Fuck Paul for being here, and fuck Jane for always being Jane. But fuck Mackenzie most of all, for falling in line with whatever Jane says. Nobody would listen to Jane if she didn’t always have these followers around her.

The boys are looking at the ground as if their eyes have weights in them. Kristi looks ready to cry, but she’s so emotional.

“Yes we are. We’re done.” Jane tries to pull the camera out of her hand, and Mackenzie pushes her off. Kristi and Emerson step toward her, and we’re about to fight in this parking lot, all of us. It should have been a fight a long time ago, but I’m glad it’s happening today. I’m ready for a fight.

I turn back to tell Doc I don’t want to go in, but she’s already out of the car. How is it that when I’m scared I age backward?

I strip off my gross socks, peeling them off my feet the way you peel a black banana to see if it’s still edible.

“Oh. Um, sorry. What should I call you?” She smiles. “Most of the little kids call me Mom.” Did all the skin just peel off my face? She follows up quick with another option.

I laugh a little bit, because nothing makes sense. I laugh harder, and I think about Martha telling me I can call her Mom. My throat closes up and there’s really only a little tiny plastic playground slide between laughing and crying. I shush myself like I used to shush Andy, and I fall deeply, deeply asleep.

They’re both looking at me, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. There is no way that this is actually how parents talk to their kids. This is like the worst episode of any family TV show, the one where they try to teach you something.

lol

At least I don’t have to listen to a teacher mispronounce my name,

realistically who mispronounces Layla???

He looks up at me and there’s just a second when he looks terrified. It passes, but it’s hard to forget.

I sigh. “I thought you were tired of following Jane. Aren’t you tired of apologizing for her, too?”

Am I supposed to thank her? I look up and yup, everyone is staring. I pull up my hood. Fuck policy.

The rest of the day goes like that. People are either staring or working so hard not to stare that they seem to be in pain. If one more teacher calls me “brave” I’m going to bravely swallow my own tongue.

She sighs. “Just the two of you against the world.” So far the world is winning.

He shrugs, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I guess so. She looked so sad. Then she looked scared and runned away. That was all.”

He hugs me again. “I love you, Layla. I can say it with words. I know how.”

cute

He nods, wiping his face and shouldering his backpack. “Mom and Pop are nice. Come and visit them, okay? We got goldfish. And a big TV. And the lights are on every day.”

“The first thing I need to tell you is that Andy is not your brother.”

WHAT!?

“Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I’m dying.

What does it cost to lose something you never had?

Strapped to the side of it there’s a big wooden comb with teeth that sit far apart from each other.

hmmm...

While I was looking at it, she told me that my hair is hard to take care of because it’s different. She said that this is a perfect time to get to know it, since I’m getting to know myself again as someone new. She told me there are girls on YouTube who have hair just like mine, and I can watch their videos and see what they do.

“I.” Points to himself. “Love.” The awkward bat-hug, arms crossed over his chest. “You.” He points at the screen in front of him, at his sister who is right there and so far away.

Nobody else knows that story. What we share is terrible, but it’s ours and ours alone.