It was the Thursday after Lilly was kidnapped. I walked into English, and looked over at Chase's spot. I sat down in my seat. Right before the bell rang, Chase stumbled through the door his cap low on his forehead and was blinking rapidly. I got up and sat in the seat next to him, the bell echoing in the hall.
"Where have you been?" I whisper harshly. He turns to me, seeming a bit dazed.
"I'm sorry. Woke up late, and my mom left without me, and my dad's sick.. Had to drive myself, and couldn't get the car started." he shook, and removed his cap. My jaw dropped. A white patch of gauze and tape was slapped on the corner of his forehead. It was already starting to soak with blood.
"Don't freak. Head wounds just bleed a lot. It's really not that-" he doubles over in pain, gripping the edge of the desk like he's trying to choke it and he groans, his eyes shut tight. I rest a hand on his shoulder as he calms down. "Sorry. Anyways." he coughs. "I walked in the door after the first bell, and went to the bathroom. Inside, Tim and his gang tackled me. Three of the five of them play football and wrestle. Anyways, they said something about me breaking some trophy of theirs, and then they pounded me. I looked closer at him. His face was red and his constant blinking, I realized, was because of pain and him trying not to cry. I looked at him.
"Did you resist or what? And did..you break the trophy?" He shakes his head, and then holds up his left hand. A line of black and blue streaked a crossed his knuckles and I cringed.
"I tried. Guy stepped aside and I hit a locker instead. But this is the worst part-"
"Wait! You didn't report this?!" I hissed, and then glanced at our teacher, but she didn't look up from her book. The people around us were either writing, reading, or texting.
"No I solved it myself. Now listen. I got out lucky. A bleeding forehead is nothing. They were about to pull out switchblades and gut me." he shook again. I looked at his patch again.
"What'd you tell the nurse?" I asked.
"I didn't. I had a first aid kit in my locker, and just fixed myself up there."
"Chase..."
"No. Listen. Before they let me go they said 'tell your girlfriend, Stephanie, that she better watch her back.'" I swallow and stare at him. His eyes glance down at the floor to my right when he said the word girlfriend slowly and quietly then hurried on with the rest if he sentence. We've always had that problem where people think we're dating and say that Chase is my boyfriend or whatever. I never looked at him as anything other than really a cousin or brother or something. He's pretty much family. More family than Lilly ever was.
Mrs. Timberson, our rather oblivious teacher, always just reads books, and has what we have to do on the board. She never really tells us what to do. She has graying blond hair and wrinkling skin. She tells us good morning and a brief introduction. Then we get to work and talk quietly. I look at Chase and pick up pencil and start writing my poem on a blank page in my notebook. I look at Chase and notice a bleeding cut on his left forearm as he pushes up his sleeves right above his elbow.
"Chase." I say. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine, but you have to go to the nurse. You're bleeding for crying out loud!" He looks at his arm watching a very small streak of red blood slowly slide down his arm. I sigh and get up and get a tissue. I snap my fingers quietly and hold out my hand. Chase holds out his arm and I try to gently wipe away the blood. It leaves a faint orange line on his arm, and I try to be gentle as I dab the cut.
"Ow!" He complains, gripping the desk for a second, and I lift up the tissue.
"Sorry!" I stand up and ask Mrs. Timberson for a band-aid. She gives me one and I sit back down. Peeling off the wrapper I give it to Chase. He gently places it on his cut and forces a smile.
"Thanks Dr. Allen."
"No problemo Mr. Chase." I say softly, and he nods and picks up his pencil to work. I can't help but not focus on the poem in front of me when Chase is bleeding so much over there. A million times I glanced over at him checking his forehead. Still bleeding but I guess it slowed at some point. The bell rang and we all shuffled out to our next class. I told Chase to meet me after lunch and he nodded.
***
I was relieved after lunch when Chase told me he went to the nurse. He said he was going to gym when Mr. Whoster said that he most definitely could NOT play soccer with all those band-aids that were falling off. He went down to the nurse with no complaint, which I don't believe, and she fixed him up-thank god. He skipped gym, and stayed in the nurse's office. But what made me nervous was the look in his eyes when he talked to me. One thing you should know about Chase. He doesn't get into fights. Not ever. And his brown eyes had reflected a golden halo, I knew from all the time I knew Chase that the halo only showed in his eyes when he was scared. I shook my head and told him I was glad he was okay and saw the nurse. He nodded and told me he'd see my later.
***
I was walking down the hall back to my locker at the end of the day when I see her. Violet McCalvin sneaking around people, and she stops in front of my locker. I side step behind a locked as she checks over her shoulders. I wait five seconds and peer around the lockers. The people walking down the halls don't notice me playing spy, and walk around me. I see Violet pull something out of her back pack, a paper, and tape it to my locker. Then she picks up her backpack and walks away. I walk over, trying to be casual and pluck the paper off my locker and unlock it. Then I shove it in the front pouch of my backpack.
***
On the bus I discover Chase got picked up early. I was relieved he'd get some rest and I sat down in my usual spot in the back. Then I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the note. In neat handwriting said,
Stephanie,
Oh Stephanie. Looks like your boyfriend got beat up. I suppose that was my doing. I payed Tim to beat him up. That is a warning. I know you're looking for you're sister. So stop. Or I will come after you next.
There was no signature but it didn't matter. I knew it was Violet because I saw her with my own eyes. And I knew that handwriting. But it didn't match. This handwriting was smaller than Violet's. I had to be partners with her in September for a science experiment. Something sparked in my mind, but as soon as I tried to think more about it I forgot. I frantically tried to remember, but the bus drove away from the school, leaving my idea behind as well.
YOU ARE READING
Do I love her
Teen Fiction{WARNING; I WROTE THIS IN 7TH GRADE WHEN I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO USE GRAMMAR, AND IT NEEDS TO BE HARDCORE EDITED.} Sixteen year-old, Stephanie Allen, thinks she hates her step-sister. She lost her dad in a car accident and blames her sister for his d...
