Behind Our Scars

III

LONDYN

Micky rests her head on my shoulder, sitting in the back of the cab to school.

Honestly, the building isn't far, our section of the building is just on the entire other side, and Micky not being a morning person gives us an excuse to take a cab every day.

The windows are slightly rolled down, spring air brushing against my face, and by spring air I mean pollen, straight up pollen. I like the greenness of spring, the brightness of summer, the orange of fall and the white of winter. All of it is so beautiful to me. The world is beautiful.

Until it isn't.

People make the world ugly. Not with their faces, but with their minds, their personalities, their pain.

It's okay though, my pain is ugly. My scars are ugly too.

The cab stops in front of the building and I hand him the "cab cash" Micky and I save up over the weeks. Micky slides out of the cab first, and I follow, giving one last smile to the cab driver who winks at me.

"We should really invest in driver's licenses." I joke, flipping my bag onto my shoulder. Micky nods slowly, but then shakes her head. "It's okay, I'll get you a private driver." She puts her hand on her stomach when a low growl leaves it.

"Did you eat?" I reach into my bag, pulling out a protein bar. Micky shakes her head. "I have a shoot at nine." My face twists in disappointment. "Just take it, eat it after." I force the bar into her hands. "We talked about this M. It's okay to have a little something before a shoot." My arm wraps around her shoulders as we head into the building.

"I know Lon."

People sit in the entrance cafe, chatting with their friends or sitting in their cliques. Cliques in VGPU work by study. If you study graphic design you sit with them, fashion, photography, media, realism etc. But, like Micky and I most of us grew up with one another so the cliques are normally mixed between friend groups.

Micky and I head to our spot at the table towards the back, perfect view of the entire cafe and closest to the staircase so that we're closest when it's time to go to class. The main staircase gets pretty cluttered when the clock hits nine.

When we get to the table, a certain black haired boy sits at our table with a girl beside him. "What a surprise." I mumble, acknowledging his presence at the table. Jordan sits with his phone in between his arms, the brown haired girl beside him looking over his shoulder.

Jordan looks up, watching Micky and I take our seats at the table. "Hi guys," He pauses, looking at the person beside him. She has golden brown skin, hair that's tied back into a low ponytail and glasses that sit comfortably at the bridge of her nose. "This is Emilia."

Emilia smiles, putting out her hand. Micky takes it. "Michelle." She smiles awkwardly and Emilia moves her hand towards me. "Londyn." I smile, more genuinely than Micky.

"She's joining the modeling division, so I thought it would be nice to introduce you." Jordan looks to Emilia, giving her a charismatic smile. The girl nods. "Nice to meet you both."

Jordan looks to the table across from ours and puts up a finger. "Well, that's my cue," He stands, giving Emilia a side hug. "Also Londyn?" he starts while grabbing his bag. I raise a brow. "Yeah?"

"Stop stalking Andrès," A frown immediately forms on my face as Micky and Emilia snicker. "He keeps bitching about it."

✥✥✥

"I was not stalking him!" I exclaim, slamming my locker shut. Micky and Em stand by me, small amused smiles painted on their faces. "I don't know where he got that idea from." I whine, pressing my head against the locker door. Micky responds with a shrug.

"It's the ego." Em nods in agreement. "Definitely the ego." My slips flip into a quick smile. "Well, I have to head to class," I flash a wave before walking off and heading to walk up the hell that are the school steps.

Media is next and Miss. Vena claimed she was planning some huge project for us, and knowing that extraordinary woman, the project will definitely be either really shitty and complicated, or fun and interesting.

I push open the classroom door, greeted by the scent of white gardenia, probably the candles from Bath N Body Works and the sight of everyone sitting in new seats.

"Londyn!" The frizzy haired woman exclaims, throwing her arms up dramatically. "Lovely to see you, we were just about to get started." Her eyes fall to the clipboard in her hand. "You sit with Andrès."

Perfect.

Of course I'm sat with the kid who claims I'm stalking him in the one class I actually enjoy. I search the classroom for him and he sits towards the back, jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed and an annoyed look on his face when his eyes meet mine. My feet move slowly to the table, dreading any further interactions that may follow.

"Okay Lovelys," That's probably Miss. V's favorite word. Lovely. Her outfit consists of a pair of lime green pants, a sky blue top, red lipstick and eyeliner to contrast to her pale skin, and hair that's tied up with a lime green hair tie. "We will be doing a mixed media project."

She turns dramatically, switching the slides of the smart board, highlighting examples. Some are collages and paintings, photos and paintings, image transfers, and stencils. "And you are paired with who I think you'll work with best!"

Murmurs spread across the classroom, looking at their partners and shaking their heads. My eyes move towards Andrès whose eyes are kept forward, jaw remains clenched, and brows relaxed yet strained at the same time.

His specialty is in painting and realism and mine photography. I know that kind of project is doable, and yet every possibility that runs through my mind shows everything going wrong. "So! Talk it out, make a plan." Miss V picks up her ipad and sits on her desk.

Everyone around us begins chatting immediately, some even getting to sketch ideas. I turn to Andrès. "Any ideas?" I ask, my voice coming out smaller than I expected. His hazel colored eyes glance at me for just a moment, then returning back to the front of the room.

"No." Dead. His voice is dead, careless, emotionless. My brows pinch. "Well we have to think of something." The boy rolls his eyes, standing abruptly from his seat.

"Okay, creep." He grabs his bookbag, flipping it on his back and shoving his seat into the desk. "Tomorrow, at the hill, 4pm." He almost scowls and yet there's no emotion at all in his voice.

When he's out of earshot I sigh, my eyes finding the cup of pencils that sit in the middle of the desk.

"Good luck with him." A foggy voice erupts from behind me. I turn around slightly and a blonde haired boy leans forward, so close that I can feel his breath on my ear. When my eyes find him, a blackening bruise sits on his left eye and cuts surround his jawline.

"He got a beating on me." The boy laughs slightly at my reaction to seeing his face. "Why are you here then?" I pause, turning my body fully to face him. "Shouldn't you be recovering?" The questions fly out of my mouth faster than I can think. He shrugs, sitting back down in his seat.

"I'm fine," He runs a hand through his curly blonde hair. "Not the first time I took a beating." I nod in response, observing him for any other cuts. Some surround his knuckles most likely from wailing his arms around trying to land a punch.

My silence makes him smile. "I won't back down from a fight," He leans forward again, making me wonder his name. I've seen him before now that I think about it, but only in this class or in the halls on the way here. "Even if it's someone with a reputation."

My lips curve up into a smile. "You're brave." I point out, my eyes never leaving him as he smiles in response. He's a pretty handsome man. Thick eyebrows, sharp jaw, curly blonde hair and a smile that could warm anyone's heart.

"And you're beautiful."

My cheeks warm and I can't resist the smile that grows on my face. "Thank you," I pause, trying to get any remembrance of his name. "Elijah." He finishes, that same friendly smile from earlier appearing on his face. I nod. "Londyn."

"Pretty name for a pretty woman."

My smile beams and I turn around, looking back towards the front of the room. I spot Andrés standing by the door, backpack on his back and eyes planted directly on me. I don't think he ever left.