Free Ruin by Clarissa Wild

smiles and grabs Dad’s leg, squeezing it. I’m glad she’s happy.
    “But you’ll be okay, right? You’ve got your laptop, your phone.”
    “Of course,” I say, nodding.
    “Besides, you’re tired … right?” Mom says, but her question doesn’t sound like a question at all.
    “Yeah … so sleepy.” I fake yawn a little.
    I’m not tired … but if this is what she needs to give herself an excuse to go, then I’ll give it to her. No use arguing about it. I don’t want her to stay against her will, either.
    Not when she and Dad are more interested in finding out if he got a promotion.
    Mom and Dad get up from their seats. “We’ll see you in a few days then. Don’t be too much of a brat to the nurses, May,” Mom jokes, but there’s always a sliver of truth in what she says.
    “I won’t, Mom.”
    “Bye!” Dad says. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite you!”
    I wave at them until they’re gone. And then I’m alone again.
    Gosh, I wish they could’ve stayed just a little longer. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely then.
    But then, from the corner of my eye, I spot that same guy again. Alexander.
    I yell out. “What are you doing here?”
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Alexander
     
     
    “Uh … just doing my rounds,” I answer, laughing it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s a big, fat lie.
    I came here to see her.
    But then I saw her with her parents and thought it wasn’t such a good idea. So I turned around … except I didn’t leave. I couldn’t. Not when I heard the awkward conversation from that room. How unbelievably uninterested her parents are in her situation.
    I discreetly inch toward her room. “Just seeing how you’re doing.”
    “I’m fine,” she says, shrugging it off, but I can tell from the way her eyes glint that she’s not ‘fine.’
    “Of course, you are,” I muse, folding my arms as I walk inside.
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “Yes, it does … I can tell you’re upset.”
    She frowns. “No, I’m not.”
    “You don’t have to hide it,” I say.
    She raises a brow. “I’m not hiding anything.”
    I chuckle. “I’m the master of hiding my emotions. Don’t think I can’t see it when others do it.” It’s the truth. I do it every day, and no one notices.
    “Hmpf.” She looks away.
    “It’s okay to be angry.” I am too, a lot, and usually for no reason. But she has a good reason.
    She doesn’t respond, so I sit down on the chair next to her bed. “Your parents didn’t seem to be very interested in what you had to say.”
    She looks at me, her eyes filled with broken promises. “They had other things on their minds.”
    “Like your father’s promotion …”
    Her eyes narrow. “You were eavesdropping.”
    “No …” I say. “I just happened to catch a few words.”
    She shakes her head. “Sure, you did.”
    And then she throws her pillow at me, which I barely manage to catch. “I’m no liar.” Laughing, I throw the pillow back at her.
    “No, you just like to twist words until they fit your agenda,” she quips.
    “Exactly.” I smirk.
    She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s holding a laugh too.
    It’s quiet for a few seconds, after which I decide to say something stupid again. “I know the feeling.”
    She throws me a peculiar glance and says, “What do you mean?”
    “Well … my parents didn’t always understand what I wanted, either.”
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Before
     
     
    I learned at a very young age how cruel the world could be.
    I watched the other boys in class get firetrucks and Hot Wheels for their birthday gifts, while I was stuck with a box of pens. They laughed at me when I said I’d never been on an airplane or traveled abroad. My mom and dad couldn’t afford what most people could, and I always knew.
    Even when they didn’t tell me, deep down, I knew.
    When they couldn’t buy presents for Christmas.
    When we couldn’t go to the zoo or the amusement park like all the other kids.
    When I couldn’t go to badminton after