Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

26. Do I Wanna Know?

"Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? . . ."

I hug my bag close to my body as I walk through the bus aisle, trying my best not to hit any limbs that extend into the middle of the slim space. This is one of the things I hate most about riding the bus home from school; the people on it are exhausted from a long day of school, and they don't waste any of their energy being considerate for others.

I feel the nerves in my body dissipate as I reach the steps at the front of the bus, taking them one at a step to make sure I don't fall. Last year I had witnessed a boy misplace his foot, only for it to slip out from under him and cause him to tumble down the steps. Everyone burst into laughter, and the jokes didn't stop, even after he had started walking home from school.

The bus doors close behind me, and I hear the familiar sound of the rusty wheels squealing as the vehicle lurches forward, continuing down the road. I frown as the force whirls my hair around my head, blowing it in all directions, including my face.

"Not so funny now, is it?" a voice calls. I whip my head around to see Harry leaned up against the side of the barn, cigarette in hand. He smiles before bringing it to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and inhaling deeply.

It takes me a second to realize he's referring to the other day when I had found amusement in the sight of him trying to blow his hair out of his face with his mouth.

I send him a small smile in response, but as soon as he looks away, I frown. I know Harry smokes, but it's one of those things about him that I keep pushed to the back of my mind, only taking notice of it when I have to.

The thought of smoking makes me sick. Those who do it know the consequences, yet they choose to ruin their bodies by filling themselves with the toxic fumes cigarettes possess. They know they're killing themselves through a slow and painful process, but they don't care enough to stop it. The realization that Harry thinks so lowly of himself is saddening, so I don't bother to stick around and watch.

Instead, I venture up the driveway and head to my house. Once inside I sling my bag onto the counter and walk over to the pantry, where I pull out a bag of chips.

I spend a few minutes eating before I pick up my bag and carry it upstairs, throwing it onto my bed before jumping on it as well. I face-plant into the mattress and let out a groan, releasing all of my pent-up frustration from school and living in general.

A few minutes pass of me just laying there before I force myself to get up and be productive, for once. Pulling my homework out of my bag, I grab a pencil and get to work. It's tedious and boring, but it takes my mind away from everything else going on in my life, so I don't mind it too much.

Thirty minutes in, the doorbell sounds throughout the house and I jump in surprise. My hand jolts, causing the pencil it holds to skim across the paper, leaving a messy line in its wake.

I sigh and set my homework off to the side before rising to my feet and rushing downstairs. Once I'm in front of the door, I stand on my tiptoes to look out of the peephole at the top. A blurred, distorted image of Harry comes into view, and my nerves skyrocket.

The knocking sounds again and I panic. I had purposely gone straight inside my house after getting home from school in an effort to be alone and think about things, but now that Harry is knocking on my door, I don't have time to truly think about what I'm about to do.

"Hold on," I call through the wood, hoping to somehow slow down the rapping against the door. It ceases, giving me time to compose myself. I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath before grabbing hold of the deadbolt, pulling it to the side.