Selah and the Spades

I sat there and watched her. Watched as she maintained her power and control over those around her. Captain of the spirit squad, leader of the Spades (the faction responsible for supplying pills and alcohol for students), the Head Baddie in Charge. Don Corleone in a skirt. I watched her chase after a student for her money, her goons running after him while her strides were slow and nonchalant, yet powerful enough to know that she meant business. She demanded the cash for the pills. She got it, but made sure that her goons reminded him of the consequences of not having her money.

But even with all this, I saw another side of her. I saw how she recoiled as her mother told her that she’s only trying to save her from herself—a fact only she believed. It was like she was a scared little girl wanting her voice to be heard, only to be silenced by a dictator. “My way or the highway,” the tyrant dictator says. As powerful as she is, I expect a response of defiance, letting this woman know that she doesn’t need saving. Instead, she just sits there and says nothing. She goes back to school, and again she’s the Head Baddie in Charge.

There was a third side of her. A mentor.

Paloma is a girl like me. Kind of a loner and spends most of her school time with headphones on her head, emerging herself in whatever artist playing on her MP3 Player. Could be Rihanna, or 5 Seconds of Summer, depending on her taste in music. But whoever it was, you never saw her without her headphones. She’s a new girl, just trying to find her niche, and that’s when Selah sees the opportunity to introduce herself. She took Paloma under her wing and showed her the ropes. I didn’t know what it was about Paloma, but I noticed the change in Selah. She was softer, vulnerable, not afraid to be the person that hid beneath the tough exterior everyone saw. They were a great pair of friends (or more depending on your vision).

And then the fourth side of her came out, but only I saw it. Her fear. Of what? I wasn’t sure of. I watched her sit alone in her room, contemplating the changes in her life. Maxxie’s (her best friend and right hand) priorities and focus changed and there was the possibility of betrayal. Of course, he would never betray her, but that question of What If? lingered strongly in her mind. Maybe she feared her future. After all, it was the spring semester of her senior year, and her future was chosen for her, but I wondered what she wanted. Has anyone ever cared to ask her that, or was I the first? She couldn’t hear me say that because I didn’t exist in her world, so instead, she rummages through her desk drawer only to find one of Paloma’s pictures. A picture from one of their outings with a note on the back, one that should’ve made her smile. A genuine smile. Not the painted smile she practiced in the mirror to hide behind. While she did this, I furrowed my brows at the familiarity of the situation. I’ve seen this before, but not with her. Have I seen others do this before? Or maybe…

It doesn’t matter. Because the next moment I see her find Paloma and apologize for taking her frustrations out on her. That was the first time I’ve seen her do that to anyone, and I smiled at how soft and endearing she was in that moment.

And then it happened. She took Paloma to the backstage of the theatre where a supposed rat was tied to a chair for interrogation, and Selah discovered that Maxxie went behind her back, making deals with the other factions—deals he knew full well she wouldn’t approve of. She told Paloma to take care of the rat, but she couldn’t (or didn’t want to). That’s when the change happened. Selah wasn’t soft with her, she didn’t tell her it was okay not to be ready. She called her weak and a waste of time. Paloma couldn’t possibly be her successor if she couldn’t maintain that power and fear the Spades had over the student body. Before I could understand what was happening, I saw Paloma run and I thought she ran away from Selah, but the blood on her knuckles told me a different story. She fell into Selah’s manipulation and did something out of character. As Selah held a towel to her hand and told her she’ll get used to it, I felt sad. But for whom? Paloma for falling into Selah’s trap of manipulation, or Selah for seeing herself in that moment? Scared, shaken, unsure of how to respond. I wondered who made Selah this way. Was she too like Paloma? A sophomore girl trying to find her niche when a senior class girl took her under her wings and showed her the ins and outs of the factions. And then I questioned, who ran the Spades before Selah?

I watched her the next day as she ran into Maxxie and let him know she won’t be able to make a prior commitment they had with the Skins. When he assumed it was just going to be him and Paloma, she quickly informed him that he will be going alone because Paloma will be busy with newspaper stuff—a fact I knew was a bald-faced lie. Even if I would’ve been in a position to tell him it was, I wouldn’t have. By this point, I feared Selah for reasons I didn’t understand. At that moment, I knew she was up to something. I wasn’t sure what, but I had a gut feeling that she set him up. I was proven right when he later came to Selah and Paloma with bruises and small cuts all over his face. Paloma showed concerned, but the look in Selah’s eyes said that he should’ve known better than to cross her, and he saw it as well as I did. The confrontation that ensued was inevitable. He was done, out, finished. She no longer wanted anything to do with him or his friendship.

I watched her walk away from the confrontation, but I could feel the tension. I knew something was going to happen, I just didn’t know what. I see her walk into her room, lock her door, and drop her backpack. I’m assuming she’s going to change clothes and go about the rest of her day, but instead, she sits against the wall in tears and breaks down. For the first time, I saw her cry. I saw everything she tried to hide. Her pain, her insecurities, her fears, and her frustrations. I saw her.

But she wasn’t the only person I saw in that moment.

In the midst of her shedding tears, her eyes find me and I shake in fear. For once, it wasn’t because of her. The look in her eyes felt like I was staring directly into a mirror, like she’s silently telling me, “I am you.”

Time passes.

Prom is canceled, and the factions come together to have one in secret. Everything is going well. That is until Paloma goes to Bobby for a drop, and then we hear about the infamous Teala. I had my suspicions about her, but I was grateful that she was alive. When Selah finds the picture that Paloma took of Bobby in the dressing room, she assumed a betrayal, but Paloma would never. She had way too much respect and admiration for Selah to ever betray her. Of course, Selah didn’t see it that way, so she plots revenge against Paloma. While she’s preparing for the illegal prom in the woods, Selah goes into the secret drug chest and grabs a small thing of button drops. I assumed they were for the prom, but I was proven wrong when I saw Selah walking in the woods with Paloma. As Paloma monologs about how she’s excited to become the leader of the Spades and the ways she could change the faction for the better, Selah puts some of the button drops in a miniature bottle of alcohol they shared and gave Paloma the last swig. My eyes widen in shock because I can’t believe she would do that to Paloma. On the other hand, I’m not surprised that she would.

After what I’m assuming is an hour, Paloma passes out due to the side effects of the alcohol and button-drop mix. While she’s out, Selah goes to find Maxxie and ask him how many button drops are considered too much. He pulls her to the side to ask her how many did Paloma take, and she inadvertently confesses to drugging her. Maxxie says to her, “You can’t keep doing this.” I knew he was referring to Teala, and I waited to be shocked by this revelation. It never came. He said what I’ve known for a while. I already didn’t trust Selah by this point, and the truth about Teala was just a notch on the belt of “Reasons Selah can’t be trusted, not even around my dog”.

Paloma eventually comes to and she goes to find Selah. Selah and Maxxie find her after a while and checks to see if she’s okay, but Maxxie tries to persuade Selah to tell Paloma that she drugged her. It was no surprise that Paloma punched Selah. I expected as much, more so because Selah tried to justify her actions for not only drugging Paloma, but violating their trust. Paloma runs off into the dark woods, and Selah and Maxxie chase after her. She runs until she trips and almost falls off what I think was a cliff. If she hadn’t grabbed onto that gate, she would’ve lost her life. Fortunately, Maxxie and Selah were able to pull her over the gate to safety. While Maxxie comforts Paloma, Selah slowly walks to the gate and looks over. A lot of people question what or if she was contemplating something, but I knew what it was. She considered jumping, not for the sake of death, but peace. The voice in her head—the voice I know well—was telling her to jump, but Maxxie’s voice drowned it out. Selah rejoins them and the trio of friends drape their arms around each other, and it leaves me with a question that will never get answered. Is everything forgiven? The trio walks back to the prom in silence, the only sounds are trilling insects and Selah’s comforting whistling. But then she looks at me again. With her blooded nose and busted top lip, her eyes tell me what they told me the last time.

I am you.

And just like that, everything fades to black.

After that, I was left alone with my thoughts. Selah wouldn’t leave my mind. She was like an annoying fly that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times I would swat at her or try to crush her. Her unspoken words constantly lingered in my head.

I am you.

I was nothing like her. I wasn’t a spoiled, vindictive brat, who craved and demanded power with her head held high and her confident strides.

Except I was.

Selah used her craving for power and control to cover the fact that she was a scared little girl whose voice had been drowned out by a tyrant dictator. While her dictator was her mother, mine is a capitalistic system. Selah keeps her mouth shut to please her mom and keep the peace, I do the same. Work jobs I hate just so I can keep a roof over my head. I rather spend my days at the library or the botanical gardens, soaking in peace and serenity while thinking of how to fill the world with words that describe a day in the life of one of my many fictional characters. The system only makes it possible for the rich to have peace and enjoyment. Just like I wonder if anyone ever asked Selah what she wants, does anyone care what I want? Better yet, do I even know what I want?

I’m a Baddie. Not in the sense where I walk in confident strides with my head held high, but more quietly and subtly. When I’m sitting down with a pen and a notebook, or in front of my laptop with Google Docs open, I feel the way Selah feels when she’s walking through the halls of Hardwell. “This is my domain, and everyone needs to recognize and get out my way.” Writing is the only sense of control I have. It’s the only time I can bend someone to my will without anyone questioning it. It’s where I can act out my innermost fantasies without having to deal with consequences or judgments. I feel free. The same freedom Selah feels at Hardwell.

I’m a mentor. Selah chose to take Paloma under her wings, meanwhile, I didn’t get to choose my mentee. Becoming a big sister was a responsibility forced upon me, but it’s a role I take more seriously now than I did growing up. Now that I’m older, I realize the importance of this role. In the same way Selah used tough love to push Paloma to her best, I use tough love to push my sister to her best.

Most importantly, I’m scared. Like Selah, I mask my fears. I hide behind fictional characters, work, and painted smiles. Of what exactly? Uncertainty I guess. That scares all of us. I think more than that, I’m afraid for someone to see the real me. To see my fears, my insecurities, the things that make me tick. If they do, they’ll use it against you. But what if they don’t? I ask myself sometimes. But what if they do? I have to remind myself.

Maybe that’s why Selah keeps people at bay, or in their place. In the business she’s in, she doesn’t know who to trust, so she’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I too wait for the other shoe to drop, and for true colors and intentions to reveal themselves. But if there’s no malicious intent, then what? Like Selah, I keep them around long enough to suit my needs, and then I either discard them or wait for them to make themselves scarce—a fact I was never ready to admit to myself. One thing I’ve learned is that people are temporary. You grow apart, they betray you, no longer need you or vice versa, or they die. Until then, I see what I can get out of them. A possible writing partner, a fandom fellow, shoulder to cry on, or cuddle buddy. I figure out their place in my life and I keep them there until they’re gone. Doesn’t matter when or how they leave because as soon as one leaves, I make sure to have a standby to replace them. That isn’t to say I intend to use them. I give them pieces of me, the pieces I want them to have, and milk the friendship for all it’s worth.

I have my idea of a perfect world just as Selah does, and I want everyone to conform to it. When they don’t, I get that anger she feels. But instead of manipulating the people around me, I just shut down and pretend they don’t exist or I talk behind their backs as if their station in my life means nothing. Why can’t my friends see why I want things for them? Why are they so scared to go after that dream? Or why do they continue building relationships with people that hurt them? Can’t they see I just want them happy? They can be if they just do what I say. Why should I listen to them when they won’t listen to me? I matter too.

The scene where she’s crying in her room by herself after holding the tears back long enough to get alone, I felt the tension because I recognized it. I can’t let anyone see me cry or they’ll think I’m weak. Except I’m not weak. I take the verbal abuse that comes with life. When people yell at me, I hold back my tongue even though I want to curse harsh words at them until they understand that I deserve respect. A person could only hold back so much until the dam of emotions is broken. Once it’s broken, I hope no one’s around to see it. Until then, everyone has to deal with my painted smiles.

It was in that moment I realized I was afraid of her. Makes sense. She’ll beat up someone for crossing her, manipulated Paloma into an action she didn’t want to do, and even tricked her best friend into an unexpected beating. And yet, those weren’t the things that frightened me.

She scared me because she forced me to face myself.

She scared me when she looked at me with her tearful dark eyes and silently told me that she was me. Looking back, I realized she was right.

I am Selah.

Selah is me.

And that’s a fact that will always scare me.