I am wearing makeup again because the witch scratched my face.
The reminder has my jaw clenching but the image of her glitter covered hair, the shock etched on her flawless face brings a small smile to my lips. I swipe at my cheek, frowning at my fingertips coated in foundation and my body thrums with anger. I cannot forgive him, I will never forgive him even if he was the one who carried me to the nurse after I blacked out. He should have never interfered, I would have dealt with her properly. I pound my fists against my thighs, determined to ignore the boy appearing in my peripheral view. Mr Sam scribbles some more on the board, following it with a lengthy explanation.
They say you understand the lyrics of a song when you are sad but in truth, you understand Calculus better when you are sad. Mr Sam throws a question to the class, I surprise myself by raising my hand. His hesitation to call on me stings a little but I understand it. Abigail snickers as I stalk
“You should have called me,” Maria says for the fifth or one hundredth time. I don’t know but I stopped counting the second time she said it. She rubs her hands together, angry eyes boring into my forehead. “What would you have done?” I ask. Whenever Olivia is involved, I try to handle it on my own to avoid her interfering. She is my best friend, she has my back but I want her to remain on the cheerleading team. I drag my sleeve over my knuckles, shivering a little in response to the gust of cold air that sweeps in. Most of the chairs are still wet from yesterday’s rain but the air is cool, cooler than it will be in the cafeteria. I am never going in there again. “I don’t know.” She shrugs, her top rides up to reveal her pierced belly button. “Next time, call me.” She dumps her bag on the bleachers, I grab the sandwich she stretches to me and cross my legs under me. I take a bite and close my eyes as my teeth sink into the cheese, savouring the
The bucket list is a stupid list of things we want to do before finishing high school. I have something as silly as going on a date while she has something as big as sending her singing clip to America Got Talent. The bucket list says I have to try out for drama club this session, something I always put off because Olivia and her minions have been the reigning drama queens but that sneaky bestie of mine snuck it into the list. I get enough acting experience from being in the church’s plays but to Maria, it doesn’t count.I slip into class, a greater part of the lecture is spent thinking up lies to escape this little problem Maria created for me. After the last class of the day, I find myself walking towards the drama room while hugging my textbook tight to my chest. A peek through the small rectangular glass on the door reveals an empty room, I frown at the words written boldly on the paper glued to the door. An announcement.Practise starts at five.
“Benny!” Asher screams, jumping on his brother. Ben catches him mid-air like he weighs nothing and ruffles his brother’s hair. The two are lost in their little world as I escape to my car. Ben is still an ass. Hopping into my car, I insert the key into the ignition without starting it. Ben slides his big helmet onto his brother’s head, hooking the strap under his jaw. He pats the helmet twice with a grin, the harsh lines around his lips soften, his eyes gleam. They fist bump, I smile at how easy it is for them to get along. Ben climbs the bike first, Asher gets in after him. I have never been on a motorbike, I am not sure I want to be on one with Ben in control. If he is anything like the jackass I know, he will throw me off his bike. With his leg on the metal thingy, he throws his brother a look over his shoulder. “Ready to go, Champ?” “Yes.” Asher’s eyes flit to the curb. “Wait. My new friend.” I slide down my seat, breath held in
Broadway Heights is back to normalcy by Monday morning, the hallway is crowded with different groups mingling with themselves. I laugh at something Maria says, she gives me a look. “What? It’s true.” “It’s not,” I reply, trying to keep the flatness out of my voice. Her dramatic gasp amuses me, she grips my shoulder. I don’t allow her intense look deter me. “You cannot walk on fire without getting burned.” “You know nothing, my dear,” she retorts. I make to whack the back of my head, she scurries ahead of me with a wicked laugh and goes to stand in front of her locker. I join her, she hums to herself while taking out the books for the first period. I mimic her movements, stuffing my bag with more notes than I require. I snicker when the weight of her books drags her arm down. A textbook drops, my eyes fall to the purse strapped around her waist, I shake my head. Already sensing my remark, she squats to pick the text and says, “Shh.”
My eyelids flutter open, I squint at the bright lights pouring into my face. A sharp pain pierces my skull, I hold my hands to my head and clench my eyes shut, opening it at the caresses on my arm. Maria’s face hovers over mine, I blink to clear the dots in my vision. The headache eventually subsides, I send a small smile her way to allay her worries. With her help, I sit up and scan the room. There are only two beds and the other one is empty. Maria is on a small bench by my bed, my hand clutched protectively in hers. Light filters in from the high windows, I stare at the white walls until it clicks. We are at the school clinic. Pushing the damp hair out of my forehead, I whimper when I try to bend. My lower stomach hurts like I was beaten badly in a fight. That’s right, I was punched. Punched by that asshole in an unfair fight. Maria must have read my thoughts, she turns my face to one side while stroking my cheek and I am reminded of Ben’s fingers cutt
The air outside is a bit chilly. Of late, the weather has been deceptive. In the morning, I couldn’t stand the heat, now it’s freezing. On some days, the reverse is the case. My teeth chatter noiselessly, I lock my arms around myself and speed walk to my car. A figure with his head bowed catches my eyes, I stop, reminded of the evening with Asher. The evening that got me into the clinic. My stomach groans as if to remind me of the pain, I palm my lower belly and inhale. The figure pushes away from the motorbike to lace his sneakers, I smile when I realise it is indeed Asher. I don’t make any attempts to call him, if the bike is there, then Ben must be lurking somewhere, ready to pounce on me again. Asher might be a cutie but I will pass today. Asher notices me right as I resume walking to my car, he screams my name and I curse under my breath. I turn slowly to wave at him, my eyes darting to the front of the building. It opens and an unfamiliar face walks out, I relax slight
Maria is still not talking to me. On Tuesday, I endured it, hoping her mood swing would pass but she didn’t say a word to me. Even now, as we are strolling to our lockers, she’s quiet. Too quiet and unlike herself. I poke her, she raises a perfectly tweezed brow at me but keeps mute. My shoulders deflate, I clasp my hands and muster my best puppy eyes. In reply, she slams her locker door and sashays out of my sight. Nice one, Maria, best friend ever. I don’t understand why I’m getting punished for something that’s none of my fault. The beef she has with Daniel has nothing to do with me. I didn’t know about him talking to Olivia until he mentioned it. Speak of the devil, Daniel blocks my path right as I am about to race off in the direction Maria headed. Resting one hand on my locker, the other shoved inside the pocket of his trouser, he grins at me. “I need your help,” he says when I don’t return his smile. My eyes roam the e
Did you read it? I stare at the note in my hands until the words blur, my teeth sink into my lips, I lean on the shelf and sigh. Yesterday when I came to return the letter, my note was untouched. But today, there is a reply. I shake my head like Let—I have decided to call the owner of the letter that—can see me. I didn’t read it. I only caught a glimpse of the first line and chose not to. But right now, I am curious. Is it someone I know? The handwriting is strange, maybe like me, the person has handwriting for different occasions. Tearing out a note from my jotter, I write out one word on it: No. Curiosity niggles me, I want to know what is in the letter, I need to know. I squash the paper and tear out another piece to put up a new response. A lie. Yes. Sorry. Before my conscience weighs in on me, I shove the note into the novel, run out of the library and drive out of the school like a cast of Fast and Furious. I don’t stop to think until I am