Secrets Beneath the Surface

C h a p t e r 02 (P a r t 1)

School.

There were eyes following me everywhere, filled with either pity or disgust. There was no inbetween. I barely paid attention in class, rarely getting called out by the teachers.

The hallways seemed so empty without Devin. The laughter coming from the students seemed so hollow. The noise and rumble in the classes seemed so distant. The air of enthusiasm and energy was void, replaced by something cold and heavy.

I hunched my shoulders as I walked to my last period of the day, wishing I could just disappear. To escape all the lingering and curious stares. I wanted to snap at them, to mind their own business, but I'd get even more unnecessary attention.

"Mr. Elliot James?" Someone called from behind me.

I clutched the strap of my backpack tightly, my knuckles turning white. "Yeah?"

"Mr. James, the guidance counselor was asking to see you," they answered. I still had my back to them, but I recognized the voice as one of the assistant teachers.

"Okay," I said cautiously. As if she knew my plan, she appeared next to me, flashing me a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but she asked me to escort you to her office. She thought that you'd run away."

"I don't need a babysitter," I muttered quietly but angrily, turning away from her. "I am quite capable of walking down the stairs and reading door labels."

"Oh, I'm sure," she laughed, "but it's part of my duty to respect orders. Now, come along, Mr. James."

I had nothing to do but follow her. Once we reach Mrs. Beckham's office, she nodded politely at me before scurrying away. She was new here, which explained her actions.

I knocked on the door, and almost immediately, Mrs. Beckham's voice sounded. "Come in, Elliot."

I took in a deep breath to contain my anger before turning the doorknob and entering. Immediately I was hit by a waft of heavy perfume and I doubled over coughing. Mrs. Beckham laughed this off, as if this was occasional.

"Take a sit, dear," she beckoned to the cream colored, cushioned chairs near her desk. I grudgingly sat down, trying to ignore the fact of how comfy it was.

"Now, tell me about yourself," Mrs. Beckham smiled and pulled out a notepad and clicked a pen. She waited for me to answer, but I said nothing.

"Alright, I'll start it if you want. Your name's Elliot, right?"

Silence.

"Well, where'd you grow up? Did you move here, or lived here?"

Silence.

"What jobs do your parents have?"

Silence.

"Elliot, please just talk. I want to help you -"

"I'm not sick, you know."

"Of course, Elliot. I just wanted to talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"But talking can help you with -"

"Don't you get it?" I suddenly exploded. "I don't need any fucking help!"

Mrs. Beckham jumped back in her chair, momentarily shocked, before composing herself and taking a deep breath. "First of all, Elliot," she whispered in a quiet yet deadly voice, "watch your language. I understand how you may be having difficulty controlling your anger since Devin's death, but -"

"Why did you want to see me?" I caught her off guard.

"Because I want to help you."

"I don't think I ever asked for help."

"But your behavior changed, and you look so tired and sleep deprived. I wanted to teach you methods..."

"I'm leaving."

"Don't. Our session isn't over and I didn't dismiss you."

I ignored her and headed for the door. But as soon as my hands touched the doorknob, Mrs. Beckham's voice sounded. "Take a step out that door and you're suspended."

I processed the words quickly in my head. Out. Suspension. School. Out. Death. Help. Devin. School. Suspension. I was graduating later this year, was already accepted to multiple schools, so who the fuck cares?

I banged open the door and stalked away, shoving my hands into my pockets and ignoring the warnings spilling from Mrs. Beckham's mouth. "Stop right there, young man! You're going to have a big consequence for this!"

Surprising myself, I realized her words only encouraged me to continue with my disobeyment. So my speed walking turned into a jog, and suddenly I was running, out the school doors, the halls empty and silent except for my harsh breathing. My eyes watered as I jumped into my car, throat tight and difficult to breathe.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. It's no use, Elliot.

I rammed my foot onto the gas pedal as soon as the school doors opened again, speeding down the streets. My sight blurred and I irritably rubbed my eyes, breathing harshly through my gritted teeth.

I found myself at the cliff, the cliff where Devin jumped. The cliff where everything changed. The cliff where everything spiraled into chaos.

And I felt myself crumpling onto the rocky path, the winds beating my face and causing my cheeks to become pink, the sea below crashing wildly against the rocks. I cried, cupping my hands around my face, feeling my hot tears streaming down my face.

I rocked back and feet on the balls of my feet, my sobs gradually lessening and hiccups becoming more audible. Once I had calmed down, I stood from my position so I was exactly at the edge of the cliff. One more footstep and I would be crashing down to the water and be dead in less than a minute.

Should I though? 'Cause honestly, who cared about me?

Maybe Devin, but he was dead. And did he ever care about me? I never heard him say once that he was grateful. Hell, I wasn't even mentioned in his suicide note.

My Dad? Maybe, but my death wouldn't affect him to greatly.

Those were the only two people in my life that were actually close to me. And I realized that they never really cared. I wobbled, my legs feeling like jelly and my mind faint, as I dropped to my knees.

I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. Thought over everything. Said goodbye mentally.

I was about to take my final step when my phone started vibrating and beeping in the front pocket of my jeans.