The Reflections Of Our Tears

Part Four

Oliver, however, grinned freely. “Well, what about you, huh?”

     “I’m sitting on an invisible heating pad,” I replied.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Well then, can we share?”

“No.”

“You stubborn bastard.”

“Yep.”

“So, are you going to tell me why you ran away from school?” he asked next, getting down to business.  And so I told him.  Everything.  I told him my side of the story – the one nobody knew.  And despite the numbing cold, he sat there for an hour and intently listened to me, offering the occasional sympathetic groan or hand on my shoulder.

When I finished, he said nothing.  Instead, he got up, offered me a hand, gave me a hug, and guided me to my house.  I was led to the couch while I watched Oliver make two mugs of hot chocolate and sit down next to me.

“It’s a lot different from the way they tell it at school, huh?” he said softly, breaking the silence.  I nodded, holding back tears yet again.

“Sorry, Oliver,” I said.  “I didn’t mean for you to miss school.”

He shrugged, smiling for my sake.  “It’s not like my mom cares, right?”

And so, for the rest of that Monday, we laid on my living room floor watching The Breakfast Club and The Nightmare before Christmas.  As for the day itself? It turned out to be not-so-bad.

Every day since that one, Oliver had (a) shown up at my house after school, (b) asked how my day was, (c) asked for a glass of water, and (d) told me he could go home if he was too much trouble.

“Oliver,” I said.  “How many times do I have to tell you that I like it when you’re here?”  He shrugged shyly and looked at the ground, hiding a small smile.

“You know,” he began, “it’s nice to feel wanted.”  And with that, he lifted me up over his shoulder and fireman-carried me all the way to the basement.  For a scrawny guy, he was pretty strong. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and put me down, I noticed something.  Something I wished I hadn’t noticed.  Because it meant that he wasn’t okay.  It meant that the image he had been keeping up for weeks now was a façade.  It meant it wasn’t real.  I felt my stomach drop as I looked into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the grin fading from his lips.

“Let me see your arm again.”

Oliver.

-

Everyone has secrets, right?  Ones they don’t even tell to their closest friends?  Well, this was mine.  And she was about to find out.  Slow as I could, I extended my forearm towards Isabella.  She took my hand in her palm and pushed back my sleeve.  My stomach churned as I imagined what she was probably thinking about me at that moment.  I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, too ashamed to meet hers.  I was supposed to be the strong one.  For Isabella.  I had to be there for her, and I couldn’t be if she knew I wasn’t okay either.  That isn’t how this was supposed to work.

     Isabella didn’t speak, which only made the stressed pounding in my head worse.  “Say something,” I whispered, finally meeting her eyes.

     They were wide and deep, pain reflecting through her green irises like a mirror.  She had a look on her face that I’d never seen before – worry?  Was she worried about me?  No one had ever bothered to worry about me in the past; it was a waste of time.  I was hopeless.

     Isabella ran her finger over my wrist, her gentle touch calming me in a strange way.  “Like you said before,” she said quietly, “we’re going to get through this.”

     A feeling spread through me unlike any I’d felt in the past.  It was a clutter of emotions bouncing through me.  Fear.  Hope.  Longing.  Anxiety.  It made me dizzy, but still I smiled.  Izzy and I?  We were going to be okay.  We were going to fix each other.  At least, that was the plan.

*

Izzy and I sat together at the back of the cafeteria.  Though we both got dirty looks thrown our way from ninety percent of the passing students, for the first time in our lives, we were able to ignore it.

     “Hey, Iz,” I whispered.  “Guess what.”

     “What?” she whispered back.

     “Chicken butt.”

     Isabella broke into hysterics for absolutely no apparent reason.  The pleasure of having the company of another was filling us both with joy, and it was projected into everything we did.  Izzy even smiled and waved to a girl who, that very morning, had called her a slut.

     To put it shortly, it was the best lunch period I’d had in a very long time.  And by a very long time I mean ever.

     Until Ty came up to our table.  And he wasn’t alone.  “Look, guys,” he began.  I clenched my fists under the table, willing myself not to lose it on them.  “The drunk’s son and the sex-puppet found true love.  Is he as good as I was, Honey?”

     He winked at Isabella, who stared him straight in the eyes, refusing to back down.  Then he turned on me. 

     “How’s mama doing, Bronx?  She still use you as a personal punching bag?  You know, most moms just kiss their kids goodnight on the forehead and leave it at that.  Props to yours for being original.”

     I was out of my chair before I could stop myself.  It didn’t even feel like I was inside my own body – more like I was watching from afar.  I didn’t care that he had backup, I didn’t care that the entire student body was judging me, I didn’t care that no one believed in me.  Before I could stop myself, I had thrown myself, headfirst, into his chest.  A loud bang echoed throughout the cafeteria as his head collided with the ground, and I started punching him anywhere I could reach.  When the posse finally realized what was going on, they grabbed my arms, but I wrestled free of their grip, not ready to give up yet.  That black eye already forming on his face? That was for Isabella.  The bloody nose?  For my mother.  And everything else was for me.

     Finally, he managed to wrestle me off him and his friends pinned me to the ground.  He shook with anger as he stared at me.  And just as the principal ran in behind Isabella, who must have summoned him, I watched the fist soar into my face.  The impact threw my neck back in intense pain.  It only lasted for a second, however, because as soon as he saw the principal, I was released, crumpling in shock.  I felt my head hit the ground, and then the world around me turned black.