Something Happened

Chapter 4

The last soccer game came and went. We lost, which had left everyone in a shock. We rarely lost a game, let alone the last game that we would ever play together.

Maybe if my mind hadn't been on Derek, on the night that destroyed me, we would have won. It was a stupid move, to bring my problems with me on the field. My team had never blamed me though, and if they did they didn't express their feelings. A part of me wishes they would. A part of me deep underneath my skin wishes that someone would notice that I am different. That my body is different. The other part of me, the stronger part of me, told me that people couldn't know, no one can know.

The bell signaling the end of the day had already rung minutes ago. The halls were close to vacant. It was comforting in a way, there was no one in my personal space, no one touching me. The various pictures in my locker had fallen to the bottom. When I picked up my coat, many of them fluttered out onto the hall floor. Great. My movements to pick them up were lazy and slow, much like all of my movements lately. It had been several days since the incident and the heaviness still covers my body and slows it to snail speeds.

"I am sorry that you guys didn't win the game," my body jerks up and freezes at the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry for a lot of things," he says in a very strangulated way, glancing around us to see is any wondering student was observing us.

"Please, go away. Haven't you done enough, Derek?" I have to struggle to fight the tears from spilling onto my perfectly made-up face, my perfectly made-up expression.

"You don't understand, if I could change it I would. I was just, just angry and sad. My dad, he has been really tough lately and I wasn't thinking about anything except that someone had to feel what I felt. I just needed someone to be my outlet. I am so, so sorry," his hands grab my shoulders as he pleads for something, something that I may never be able to give him. His hands, oh his hands, they haunt my dreams and I can feel them. I can feel his hands on my body again.

Before I can even imagine saying anything, Derek is pulled backward and he stumbles to my right. "Is this guy bothering you?" Damon Shepland asks in a gruff voice.

I have only seen Damon sporadically throughout my high school years. He doesn't have very many friends, in fact, I have only ever seen him with the same two or three people. All I know about him is that he is in my grade and everyone hates him, especially the teachers. And I think he went to jail once, or at least that's what Jennifer had said last year when he walked out of Biology class.

I didn't want to cause a scene so I shake my head no even though I should have nodded. Damon must have caught my hesitation and he tells Derek to leave.

I stand awkwardly with my sweater and pictures in hand, and messy waves falling in my face, completely unsure of what to say to this guy standing in front of me. He was an intimidating guy, which made me want to shrink back against my locker. He had dark hair and dark eyes to match, and he had a black and white rose tattooed on the side of his neck. He doesn't look like anyone that I would ever talk to, but then again, the only guy I had talked to after the party is been Benny.

"Well, I guess I should be going now. Just, um, let me know if he gives you any shit, Estelle Martin," then he walks away, just like that.

***

"Hey, hunny, do you mind getting the dishes?" My mom asked as I walked in the door.

"Mom? I thought you had work?" My mom works as a doctor at the local hospital down the road and she spends most of her time there. It only got worse when my dad died and my brother left for the army. It was a rare sight to see her here, especially during the day.

"I was, but I am expecting a call from your brother. Last time I talked to him, he said that he might be able to facetime us! Isn't that great!" I didn't have the heart to tell her that Jared wouldn't be able to even see whether or not the dishes were done.

"Of course it is, but why didn't you tell me?" I ask as I walk into the kitchen, slightly betrayed that my mother was expecting a call from my brother and didn't tell me.

"I just didn't want to distract you from your school work. I know how important it is to you," She said, her eyes softening, realizing her mistake. I don't reply. I simply wash the few dishes that were sitting in the sink and pray that I get to see my brother, even if it is through a screen.

When the clock hits 9:04 the laptop that sits upon the coffee table sets off several strings of loud pings. My mom and I both rush towards it.

"Jared!" I yell at the slightly pixilated version of my brother.

"Stealthy Stell!" He yells back, referring to my childhood name. When I was twelve, I went through this phase where I would hide behind doors and walls and scare my family, of course, that was when I still had one.

We all chatted for a few short moments before my mom says her goodbyes and leaves me to talk to Jared alone. Normally this is my favorite part about his calls, but this time my stomach sits uncomfortably in my body.

"Did something happen Estelle? You seem different," Jared announces once mom leaves the room, my stomach churns. Afraid that something might slip out, I stay silent.

"You can't tell me, Estelle. Please tell me," he says, his eyes pleading for answers.

"Something happened Jared, something horrible and I'm scared," it blurts out of my mouth before I can stop it and at that moment, I want to die.

"Estelle you have to tell me what's going on," Jared rushes with a concerned look on his face. I feel terrible that I have made him worry. I am the worst sister ever.

"I am just being dramatic, it's nothing really. You shouldn't worry," I tell him, trying to get him to let it go.

"I don't care if you think it's silly or whatever, I want to know what has you upset-" before he can finish his name is called in the background. We both know it's time to go. "We will talk about this next time. I love you, always," Jared tells me.

"I love you too," and as fearful as I am about our next conversation, I pray that there will be one. Then, at least I know he is okay, even if it means tearing my heart out and showing it out on display. Even if it means everything will come out.