The Girl in the Shadows

Chapter 6

Wednesday Night

October 16, 2019

My heart beats slow and painful, in time with each ring of the phone.

Brriiinngg. Beat.

Pause.

Brriiinngg. Beat.

Pause.

With every ring and beat it feels as if the room shrinks in on me. My chest becomes tight and my stomach knots with anticipation, the seconds ticking by like hours.

After the whole dinner situation with my dad settled down, and we'd both composed ourselves I'd decided to call it a night. My dad hadn't been the most pleased with it, but it didn't take much to persuade him to let me go once I told him I still have homework to do for class tomorrow.

"Hello?" Mop Head's voice comes through on the line, stopping the mantra of ringing and yanking me from my thoughts. Instant regret at my decision floods my body and I pace my room, unable to sit still. My heart stutters in my chest and my tongue becomes two sizes too large for my mouth, making it impossible to speak. "Hello?" He asks once more and I hear a shuffling on the other end of the line as he no doubt checks the strange number calling him. I open and close my mouth as if I'm a fish out of the water, struggling to breathe.

"Um," my voice trails on the line.

"Carmen?" Mop Head asks and I nod in confirmation as if he can see the movement. My right hand curls into a fist at my side and I bite down on my lip as I struggle for the strength to talk into the phone.

"Yeah, that's me. That's, um, my name. Yep. This is-this is Carmen." I stammer, the tips of my ears burning from embarrassment because I can only imagine how I must sound. My hand relaxes at my side and I stop beside my bed, reaching out to fidget with my bed comforter. My eyes lock onto a loose strand and I pull at it to distract myself. "I found the phone number." It's a stupid statement.

Of course he knows this, Carmen. You're on the phone with him.

"I can see that." He chuckles from the other end and it's a nice sound that has my heart stammering in my chest. I write it off as anxiety over the phone call, though a small part nags that it's something else. My fingers stop playing with the loose thread then and instead they lift and begin tugging on my heated earlobe, pulling on it for comfort as I speak up.

"I called to talk about the project."

"Okay." We're both quiet after that, the clock in my room ticking by the seconds as they pass. "I wanted to talk to you about it, too." Mop Head finally speaks up, breaking the silence and I breathe out a sigh, my shoulders relaxing at the sentence. He wants to talk about it too, which means we're on the same page.

I'm okay.

I repeat the two magic words in my thoughts and nod, willing them to be true. "Oh, good. That's good. Yeah. Good." My lips become taut as I flounder around for the words. Instead, all that comes out are a few weird sounds escaping past my lips. Despite being a tad more relaxed, I'm still incapable of regular conversation with my project partner.

"Carmen, relax," Mop Head speaks up on the other end of the line. "You're getting yourself all worked up and anxious for nothing. I don't bite and it's just us on the phone. There's no one in my room if it makes you feel any better. No one knows you're talking to me." It's such an awful thing to say and disgust at myself churns within my body. Even more so when I realize just how much those words make me feel better.

I'm a terrible person.

"Sorry," I whisper though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for. My inability to speak, the awful treatment Mop Head endures on a day-to-day basis or how awful of a person I am.

"I'm used to it. So, about our project." Mop Head discusses his ideas for what we can do. It's a coding assignment where we need to write the script and create a short, playable game for the PC. When the teacher had first announced it in class last week, I'd been so excited that I'd already started creating a storyline. I'd known it was a partner project, but I'd been so lost in myself and the possibilities I'd just started creating with little thought. "Is that alright?"

I blink, the question pulling me from my mind. Whatever Mop Head had been saying had gone in one ear and out the other. I blush as I say, "Oh, um, yeah. It's alright."

"Oh good. I'm so glad you're on board with dating too. It worried me I might not have a chance in hell."

"What!?" I squeak out, slapping my hand over my mouth when I realize just how loud it had come out.

"Carmen, are you alright?" My father calls from downstairs and I scramble from my bed and to my door.

"Yeah, dad!" I reply before shutting the door. From the other end of the line, Mop Head's laughter drifts through. I don't find it funny in the least though his laughter is just the tiniest bit contagious as I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up.

"That'll teach you to tune me out."

"Sorry." My voice is sheepish and I can hear the eye roll in Mop Head's sigh.

"Stop apologizing, buttercup. I'm beginning to think those are the only two words you know."

I ignore the nickname choosing to focus on other things. "They're not the only words I know." I huff in mild annoyance. "I know a lot of words and, for your information I wasn't tuning you out."

"Oh really? Then what did I say?" The line between us remains silent and my ears continue to burn as I'm unable to answer the question. "That's what I thought so, let's hear your idea for this project."

My eyes dart towards my notebook where all the planning I'd done over the last week lies. "I, um," A war wages in my body about whether to mention the storyline I'd already created. "I..." Worse case scenarios race through my thoughts. We'll present this project to the class and, while I take pride in each of my creations, I fear for what others will say, all judgemental eyes on me. "I don't have one," I mumble into the phone, turning my back on my creation.

"Hmmm." Mop Head hums from the other end of the line. "Well, that's a bit of a problem. I'm not the best at telling stories, though I'm confident in my coding skills."

I walk over to my bed and take a seat on the edge, splaying my hand against the soft, sea-foam green comforter. My sleeve rides up a few inches, exposing the ugly scars on my inner arm. "Yeah, same." I lie, my heart twisting at the words as I lift my arm and study the scars. "I've never been very good at them."

"Well, that'll make things tricky but we'll manage," Mop Head said, exasperation in his words. I chew on my lip before replying,

"Yeah, it's okay." I pull down my sleeve, hiding my scars from the world once more. "We should figure out times to meet up. The school library is usually empty during Friday night and Saturday morning and the third science lab is always empty from lunch until sixth period throughout the week."

"No partying for Mop Head then." He jokes but I don't laugh. "Alright, those times work for me." The line falls silent once more as the unsaid words I want to speak are glued to my throat. They're terrible. Shallow. Inhuman. Memories of my past come to the surface. "Don't worry Carmen." Mop Head speaks up and I can hear the small smile he wears. I can visualize the kindness and understanding no doubt shining in his eyes, and it makes me feel worse. It makes me feel like some sad excuse of a human being. "I won't tell anyone that we're working together, though there's not much I can do about the people in our classroom who already know the partner assignments." He chuckles and I feel as if I'll be sick. "I'll do what I can, so just focus on the project."

I struggle with what to say until I choke out, "Okay."

"See you tomorrow then buttercup." And with that my partner hangs up the phone, not even waiting for my response and somehow I feel worse than when I'd started the call.

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