Slated

Chapter 16

Updates have changed to once a week. Sorry for not updating for sooooo long. School has started again and I want to kms.
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"I'm all right."

"You don't look all right." Mum dabs at my lip with antiseptic. "What happened?"

"I tripped over, on the bus. And banged my face on a seat."

I don't mention the foot that tripped me, or the laughter that followed when I hauled myself up. Or how I'd turned and was ready to smash that girl in the face. And she knew it, too: a look of uncertain fear crossed her eyes before Ben pulled me away.

"Where was Amy when this was happening?"

And I don't know what to say. I know Jazz being her boyfriend is a secret; is Amy being in his car also a secret? And Mum isn't even meant to be home yet; she left work early. She must have some sort of dragon radar.

"She couldn't catch me," I say, finally. Which is true enough, since she wasn't there.

"Where is she now?"

"At a friend's house, I think," I say, trying to be vague.

"She didn't come home with you after you hurt yourself?"

"Uh..."

Her mouth sets in a thin line.

"Go up and change."

I stay in my room, holding ice to my lip.

I was going to hit that girl on the bus; I know I was. There was no conscious thought or plan, it was in my muscles tensing up, my hand curling into a fist. My body reacting.

I'm not supposed to be able to do that. My Levo should stop me. Any trace of violence, and it is supposed to knock me out.

But nothing. Somehow I stayed near enough to 5 through the whole thing.

Ben and the others just sat smiling together as usual, even though they all knew one of them had been deliberately hurt. And it's not like they don't care. Ben came and helped me, didn't he? More like in their happy little Slated brains it is not enough to create a ripple.

I'm nothing like them.

I don't understand.

The front door opens below; I hear voices.

Heated voices.

Minutes tick past, then there are footsteps on the stairs. The door opens: Amy.

"Are you all right?"  She crosses the room, tilts my chin up to look at my lip. "That's got to hurt."

I shrug. "A little."

"Good."

She picks up her book by the spare bed, her robe on the back of the door. All her bits and pieces that have spilled into my room the last week of her staying with me so I won't be alone at night. She crosses the hall and goes into her room, shutting the door behind her with a definite slam.

Like he knows by some feline empathy trick that he is needed, Sebastian peeks into the room, meows and jumps up next to me. Rubs his head against my arm until I pet him. A tear rolls down my cheek and hits my lip. It stings, and I lick it off.

Green trees blue sky white clouds green trees blue sky white clouds...

"Dinner!"  Mum yells up the stairs.

I ease sleeping Sebastian from my knees on to the bed, and go down to the kitchen.

"I made soup for you; easier to eat with that lip."