Concerning Chance ✔

SEVEN

By the time I return to school after a long weekend, the rumours have started. Apparently, the local police were waiting until I'd talked about that night before they told the rest of the school and the pupils... or that's how it seems, at least.

And if there's one thing that's true and accurate about every single high school, it's that rumours and gossip spread like fucking wildfire.

If anything, I'm incredulous as opposed to angry. As soon as I'd told Greene, he must've told the police. As if I'd already made peace with what happened or some shit.

Did he push her?

I thought they were besties... Why would he push her?

I never saw her as the suicide type.

Who's Rory? Oh, that quiet weirdo?

She got what she deserved.

Who would've thought he's got the guts to push her?

I must've either developed supernatural hearing overnight or my anxiety was running on hyperdrive.

Probably the latter.

Nausea rolls through me in overwhelming waves, and I have to push into the boys' bathroom and crash into one of the empty cubicles. I shake violently as I empty my breakfast and last night's dinner into the toilet bowl, clutching onto the sides of the toilet with white knuckles.

As I flush the loo and sink down onto the now-closed toilet lid, someone knocks on the cubicle door.

"Rory, you in there?" It's Max — I can tell straight away.

Pressing my lips firmly together, I don't speak — refusing to say anything, as so many people do in movies and books. Like they want to be found. They want attention.

I do not want attention.

I do not want to be found.

"I know you're in there," Max speaks again, and I realise I should've pulled my feet up onto the toilet lid too.

Rookie mistake: next time I'll get away with it.

I swear silently. Partly because I don't know whether I should need to be alone right now, or if I need his support. Partly because I don't know whether or not we're going to talk about what happened on the beach.

Reaching forwards, I unlock the cubicle door that I somehow managed to lock in my blind, nausea-filled panic.

"You alright?"

"Define 'alright.'"

I'm paranoid about what people think about what happened between me and Chance; even though I don't know myself what happened. I'm so confused over Max — my friend who I keep thinking I'm attracted to.

Even if that didn't force me to question my sexuality, it would almost definitely, completely jeopardise my friendship with Max. He's my only friend anyway and, as much as I like being on my own, I don't think I could stand being entirely alone.

"Alright, meaning you're not the best you could possibly be, but that you're going to get back there eventually., Max clarifies, a touch of emotion entering his voice, "No matter how long it takes to get to being happy again, I'll be here for you, Rory."

I look up at him, feeling some sort of weird tug at my heart. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do." He frowns at me. "Why wouldn't I mean it?"

"Because I thought that Chance was going to be with me and here for me."

Max opens his mouth to reply but the bell shrills before he can get any more words out. I stand, slinging my bag back over my shoulder.