IN MY MERE five or so months as an actual teenager, I had picked up quickly that some things people say are never what they seem.
We need to talk, is one of those things.
So, when incredibly, terrifyingly serious Meghan told me such a thing, I immediately started to panic. Because a conversation that starts off like that? It never ends well.
"Uh, sure Meg, what's up?" I asked, doing my best to keep my cool.
Her hazel eyes were hard as they bore into mine. She motioned with her head for me to follow her upstairs before turning and ascending ahead of me.
I followed dutifully, but in my head I wasn't merely following a friend up the stairs. I was following an executioner to the gallows.
It's no wonder Professor Mao always told me I had a knack for theater.
When we got to the second floor, Meghan veered left, away from Aimee's room, and lead me into the guest room I would be occupying for the unforeseeable future, before closing the door with a soft click.
I turned to face her, only to find she was still turned towards the door. My brow furrowed. "Meg? You mind telling me what's up? 'Cause I'm a little confused over here," I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
Meghan was silent for a moment. And then another.
Time ticked by as I watched her stand there, unmoving, not making a sound. I wanted to break the silence, to say something to one of the best friends I didn't deserve, but all of my words got stuck in my throat. Deep down, a piece of me knew what was about to happen, but I wasn't anywhere near prepared.
Not yet.
After a while of just watching her, I got up the courage to walk towards her. I reached out to touch her shoulder, only for her to whirl around before I could make contact.
The sight of the tears in her wide, sad eyes sent me stumbling back.
You did this.
"Meg?" I said softly. When she didn't respond, I took a hesitant step forward. "Meg?" I said louder, willing her to speak.
Finally, she did, her voice sad and broken. "How could you do that to her, Scarlett? You say she's your best friend."
My breath caught in my chest and I fumbled to understand her words. "I-- Meghan, I d-don't understand," I sputtered.
She shook her head slowly. "But you do, Scarlett. You know what I'm talking about."
And she was right. I knew exactly what she was talking about. But I just wasn't ready to admit it yet. "I..."
A short, cruel laugh escaped her lips and I almost jumped. I'd never seen this side of Meghan. I didn't even know it existed.
"You can't even say it, can you?" she accused.
My jaw worked and my head moved from side to side. After a moment, I couldn't stand to look at the pain in her eyes any longer and I dropped my gaze to the floor. I couldn't blame Meghan for reacting like this. Aimee wasn't only her sister, she was her best friend too. To her, I was betraying the most important person in her life, and that made no better than the others who had hurt her sister before.
I would hate me too.
"I never meant to hurt anyone, Meghan. Please, believe me," I breathed, sinking down onto the bed behind me. With my arms rested on my knees, I raked my fingers through my tangled hair, not bothering to wince each time I pulled on a knot.
When I finally gathered the courage to look up at Meghan, her shoulders were hunched and she looked deflated; as if all of the fight and anger she had walked into this room with was just gone.
"How did you find out?"
She let out a slow breath. "Your door wasn't shut properly last night. I heard you on the phone when I went to the washroom."
"Oh."
"Why, Scarlett? I just don't understand," she asked in a small voice as she backed herself into the door and slid down until she was sitting on the hardwood floor, arms clasped around her knees like a child.
My breath came out in a sigh. "I... It's not something I can explain, Meghan."
Unfortunately, my words only seemed to refuel the red haired girl's fire.
"It's Noah Kennedy, Scarlett. Noah-fucking-Kennedy! He's my sister's ex-boyfriend. Your best friend's ex-boyfriend. The least you could do is explain yourself a little bit," she sneered, the anger from before resurfacing.
"Meghan, it's not that I don't want to explain it to you. It's just something that I don't want you to ever have to understand," I said slowly, making sure what I was saying to her was being heard.
The only acknowledgement I got from her was a scoff.
I turned my body to face her, a bubble of frustration breaking through the surface of my calm. "I don't get to be like you Meghan. I don't get to know what it's like to be happy just because you can be. Just as you don't know what it's like to have everybody look at you like they're all just waiting for the day you're going to break. And I'm glad you don't know that feeling, because that is something I wouldn't wish on anyone."
My words didn't seem to faze her, though. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Scarlett, but that doesn't give you the excuse to screw your best friend's ex!"
I blinked. "What?"
And then I laughed. I laughed because I realized just how far off base she was. Meghan had heard bits and pieces of a one-sided telephone conversation and drawn the worst conclusions she could. But when I suddenly realized what that meant one of my closest friends thought of me, I froze mid-laugh.
Did Meghan really think that little of me?
My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Are you serious right now, Meghan? Do you honestly think that I'm sleeping with him? Do you not know me at all?"
She crossed her arms over her chest from her spot on the floor. "Apparently, I don't."
I shot off of the bed so fast, I had to grab a hold of the nightstand to keep me from crashing down to the floor. And for a moment, it almost looked like Meghan was about to reach out to steady me. But the moment passed in the time it took for me to blink.
"He's my friend," I said slowly. "He's the one who never asked questions. The one who came after me after I screamed at him and made a fool of myself in front of our entire class. The one who called the ambulance when I fell down the stairs. He's also the one who sat in the waiting room for a day, waiting to make sure I was okay. The one who made sure I didn't do anything stupid the other night, when I found out I was adopted. And the one who gave me a bed to sleep in that night too. He didn't know me before and he expects nothing from me now. He looks at me like an actual person, and not like I'm made of glass."
My voice was steady the entire time, never wavering. I had grown so tired of all the lying I had been doing, that the truth just seemed to pour out. And I was glad.
Meghan blinked and I watched as a look of realization passed over her face. "Scarlett, I didn't--"
But it was too late. She'd already burned her bridges, now it was my turn to burn mine.
I held up my hand towards her, causing her voice to fade out. "Don't," I said, hardly recognizing my own voice. It was hard and cold, like the wall I had dropped so long ago with Meghan, when I had grown to trust her. But with each word she spat at me, a brick fell back into place i my mind, quickly becoming that comforting wall again. The one that would keep me safe and keep me from feeling the inevitable hurt that came with finding out that one of your best friends didn't even know you. "All that you're doing is proving that he's a better friend to me than you are."
In less than a heartbeat, Meghan's face slid into a mask of disgust. In a quick movement, she got to her feet. "You don't know him, Scarlett. You don't care, but I'm saying it anyways. Noah Kennedy is a charmer, and a user. Don't think you're special, because you're no different than every other girl in that place. He will break you, Scarlett. And you will let him."
I crossed my arms over my chest as she turned to reach for the door. "Are you going to go tell Aimee now?"
She paused, hand hovering over the door handle. "No, I won't," she said to me over her shoulder. "But if you don't tell her soon enough, I will."
Her words were met with a cool and heavy silence. And with that we both walked out of the room as if nothing had happened; as if we hadn't both just lost a friend.
I welcomed the slow burn that worked its way through my muscles as I pushed them past their limits. The fact that they were screaming for me to stop didn't faze me, it only made me pick up the pace as I ran through the cross-country trail that surrounded the school.
I couldn't hear anything over the music blaring in my earbuds. It wasn't like I had suddenly grown accustomed to music in the last week, but rather that I couldn't stand to listen to the sounds of my sneakers crunching on the dirt path or my panting breaths as I pushed myself harder.
All of the sounds just brought back too many memories I preferred to bury.
This past week and a half had passed by in a haze of school, lies and restless nights. I had gone through with my plans to stay at Aimee and Meghan's, partially to keep up appearances and partially because my so-called parents had decided to extend there trip out of town for another week.
Even they don't want to be around you anymore.
My Aimee, Meghan and I had spent the week watching movies and doing homework together. Meghan and I would plaster on fake smiles and put on an act when Aimee was around, but from her sideways glances, I knew Meghan was growing impatient with my lies. I had agreed to tell Aimee about my friendship with Noah, but I was waiting until this weekend, after the game and after the big party to avoid any unnecessary violent outbursts.
As for Noah, I'd been doing my best to avoid him since my fallout with Meghan. I would only see him in Anthropology and text him the odd time so he wouldn't think I had gone back to hating him.
This would all be over if you just went back to hating him.
The only positive thing to come out of this week was my first transfusion. I'd gone after school to the clinic for my first blood transfusion. I was also back on all of my medications. Finally, I could start keeping up with the other dancers in training and not feel so lost and tired.
And that was why I started running. Everyday at lunch I would change and head out to the cross-county track. It was nice to be alone, to not have people watching my every move. I may have been old news, but, sadly, I was still relevant enough for everyone to look on waiting for me to cause some sort of drama for them to talk about.
As I rounded the next bend, my lungs screaming and my legs pleading for rest, I noticed a figure leaning against a tall oak tree and I skidded to a stop.
"Don't you have a bunch of third forms' lives you should be off ruining, Kennedy?" I panted, gulping down big breaths of cool air and pulling my earbuds out in time to hear his low laughter.
He didn't make any effort to move. His arms were crossed over his chest, pulling the sleeves of the cliché leather jacket he wore over his uniform taught. With the combination of the leather jacket, the devil-may-care smile curving at his lips and the playful glint in his ocean blue eyes, I couldn't help but think about how he looked like a stereotypical bad boy.
"I could, but none of them wound me like you do, love," he smirked.
I rolled me eyes, fighting off a smile. "What are you doing here, Kennedy?" I asked, moving to stand in front of him, mirroring his stance with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Well, you see," he started, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There's this girl, about yea-high, sharp tongue and a terrible sense of humor, running around here and it seems she's been ignoring me all week," he explained, gaze looking at me pointedly.
I blinked. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But if I see her, I'll let her know to run the other way."
He gasped mockingly. "Scarlett? Is that you? I'd almost forgotten what your pretty face looked like, to be honest."
"And you say I'm the one with a terrible sense of humor," I muttered, looking up at him through my lashes.
His signature smirk returned to his face. "I missed that sharp tongue of yours, love."
It was my turn to give him a pointed look.
"You know what I mean," he added. He took a moment to give me a once-over and I resisted the urge to slap him. "Scar, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are ninety pounds soak and wet and it is the middle of October. Are you not freezing?"
I looked down at my outfit, my usual grey thermal and black shorts, and shrugged. I was used to being cold, but I wasn't about to tell him that. "I'm fine."
He rolled his eyes as he pushed off of the tree he was leaning on, coming to stand in front of me before looking down at his own uniform and jacket.
I scoffed, placing a palm to his chest to stop his advance. "So help me God, Kennedy, if you take off that jacket, I will beat you with it."
Placing a hand over mine, Noah laughed. "Such violence. Sorry, Scar. You know I like you, but you're not that special." With a blazing grin, he used my hand to pull me closer, and tucked me under his arm, much like before.
I didn't push him away. Instead, I found myself leaning into him as we started walking towards the school.
"So, what's got you hiding out in the woods at lunch time?" he asked.
"I'm not hiding, I'm just trying my best not to think about the game tonight," I shrugged.
"Ah, yes. This will be your first school game, won't it?"
"Technically. I just... I don't want to screw up in front of the whole school," I admitted as I absently twirled my ring around on my finger.
The smile he gave me was genuine, the kind that lit up his deep blue eyes and sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach. "I've seen you dance, Scar. You couldn't screw it up if you tried."
I bit my lip as I held back a small smile. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" I sighed, and he hugged me tighter for a moment. I let my eyes flutter closed as I reveled in the gesture.
"So, when are you going to tell me why you've been ignoring me all week?"
I winced as my little bubble of happy burst like a balloon. "I wasn't exactly ignoring you," I started, peaking up at him through my lashes.
He looked down at me, an eyebrow cocked judgmentally. "Is that so? Care to tell me what you call it then?"
This was the conversation I'd been trying to avoid since my fight with Meghan. I hated the idea that being friends with one person was going to cost me someone else I cared for. It felt like I was being forced to choose between friends I'd had in a life I couldn't even remember, and the friend I had made on my own, the friend who held me to no expectations from that previous life. I couldn't stand to have to chose between them because there wasn't one friendship or person I valued and cared about more. Each of the people I called my friends offered me something different, a feeling or sentiment that I would need if I had any intentions of surviving in this place without breaking down and losing my mind.
But if I didn't chose, I knew I was going to lose everybody. And that was something I don't think I could have lived with.
As if some higher power was looking down on my with sympathy, we reached the end of the trail just as the school bell trilled signalling the end of lunch.
Saved by the bell.
Disentangling myself from Noah's arm, I turned to stand in front of him, tilting my head up to meet his concerned blue gaze. "I'm not ignoring you, Noah, I swear. But I need to get to class right now," I told him, starting to back away towards the school.
Just as I went to turn, his warm hand encircled my wrist, bringing me back. "Scar--"
"Are you going to that party tonight?" I asked suddenly. "After the game?"
He looked down at me in surprise. "Of course," he scoffed, as if it weren't actually a valid question.
I gave him the best smile I could muster under the circumstances. "I'll explain everything to you then, I promise."
And then, pulling a play from his own book, I reached up on my toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning on my heel and running for the locker rooms.
If I didn't already hate makeup, by the time Aurora was through with me that evening I would have.
"Seriously, why the hell do you have to put five pounds of this shit on my face? I thought we were dancers, not clowns," I whined, moving my face away from the brush Aurora had gripped in her hand.
"You're going to look like a raccoon out there if you don't sit still," she grumbled through gritted teeth. "Honestly, I'd have an easier time putting makeup on my cat."
"Your poor cat," I mumbled, crossing my arms and closing my eyes to let her finish the ironic cat-eye she was painting on my eyelids.
I could practically feel the glare Aurora was shooting me and I snickered.
The rest of the dance team had long since finished getting ready, but due to my unfortunate lack of beauty skills, I was left at the mercy of Aurora. By some miracle, and with minimal harm inflicted on myself, I had managed to use a curling iron to curl my hair all by myself, so that it now cascaded around me in semi-decent ringlets. But considering that the process had taken me almost an hour, coupled with the clueless, slightly terrified look I had given the table filled with assorted kinds of clearly expensive makeup, Aurora had hauled my ass over to the nearest chair and proceeded to do her best to make my face look socially acceptable.
To say I was a difficult subject would be a dramatic understatement.
"Now, can I trust you to put on your own lipstick while I go get dressed?" Aurora asked as she sprayed my face with something cold.
I opened my eyes and shot her a pointed look.
She backtracked quickly, giving me a short nod as she stood up straight. "Right, stupid thought. How about we both get dressed and you be a good girl and come back so I can finish up?"
A sarcastic tight-lipped smile pulled at my lips. "Of course, mother."
The sour glare she shot me before sashaying off to a stall with her outfit spoke volumes.
I followed her lead, heading over to the hook where my dance uniform was hung and scowling at the horrible bundle of cloth. Just looking at the skimpy outfit made me shutter.
Summer Grove used to have a cheerleading squad that was more than content to put on skimpy outfits and dance around, cheering on the boys' teams. But, thanks to an unspoken scandal that resulted in half of the boys soccer team and the entirety of the squad being expelled three years ago, Summer Grove had official disbanded said cheerleading squad. An agreement was then made that the then-pitiful dance team would take their place at sporting events, in exchange for double the funding.
Thus was how I came to be staring at the hideous ensemble hanging on the hanger beneath my elegantly written name. The outfit we were all required to wear was a set of skin tight, red high-waisted shorts and a long-sleeved black crop top with the school's team name, which was ironically the Royals. Sadly, because of my small size, the uniform was more than likely going to fit way smaller on me than the other girls, who were all more than capable of filling their's out.
With a sigh, I reached out to grab the hanger. As if a spider was crawling up my spine, I felt a presence sidle up behind me. I didn't bother to turn around, as I could tell it wasn't somebody I was particularly interested in exchanging words with.
"It's sad, really, how incompetent you are. You're more like their dress-up doll than their friend," a familiar, unpleasant voice chimed.
Without warning, a white hot rage washed over me as the words left her mouth. I stood frozen on the spot, my blood boiling, as her cruel laughter, accompanied by that of the her minions, bounced around the locker room.
She's not wrong.
A blow up with Kamilah was the last thing I needed right now. My life had already gone to shit these past couple of weeks, and I simply lacked the motivation and energy to fight back. All I wanted was just one evening without conflict before I was forced to break my best friend's heart.
So, instead I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing the burning rage and replacing it with a carefully crafted sense of calm. When I was mostly sure my temper was in check, I turned to face the dark haired bitch.
Apparently, Kamilah Tahan was physically incapable of looking bad. Even in the gaudy uniform and bloody red lipstick, she managed to look more like a high class escort than a baby prostitute. Unlike, say, myself who more closely resembled the latter.
Sadly, that was the closest I could come to an insult without succumbing to the urge to punch her in the face. I couldn't risk getting the red paint on her mouth all over my hand. Or, you know, getting suspended.
"Just go away, Kamilah, please. I just want to get dressed and get this all over with," I sighed, clearly choosing to take the high road while she rode shotgun with the Devil.
She crossed her arms over her chest, not making any efforts to leave me alone. "What a team player," she laughed sarcastically.
I took another slow, deep breath. "Says the girl who finds joy in harassing her team members."
Her lips actually quirked up into a sadistic smile at that. "You haven't seen anything yet, Grey," she chimed, but I'd already tuned her out.
Looking over at the clock on the wall, I realized that we only had fifteen minutes before the team would have to head out to the lacrosse field. Since it was apparent that Kamilah wouldn't be leaving me alone anytime soon, I had to accept the fact that I wasn't going to get any privacy while I changed into my uniform.
Since starting on the dance team, I'd managed to avoid changing in front of my teammates. It wasn't that I was shy or ashamed of my body, because I wasn't. The reason lay more in the fact that I didn't want to give the gossip-hungry teenage girls any more fuel for their fires; like, for example, the numerous scars that decorated my body as reminders of what I'd endured over the past decade.
Sure, they'd all seen the puckered line that ran down my thigh, the scar from the surgery they'd had to perform to place the metal rod in my leg. If they looked close enough, they could see the countless round dots on my arms left there from the times He had used me as an ashtray. And, of course, there was the small white line on the side of my throat, the ghost of the last time I had hurt him and I nearly paid for it with my life. But the ones I kept hidden were the kind people people draw conclusions about. They make up stories to explain them because they're too afraid ask how you got them. Or they're just too scared of the truth.
I didn't hide them because I was ashamed of them; they were a reminder that I survived. I hid them because I wasn't ready for everyone else to talk about them.
Looking back at the clock, I took a deep breath and turned my back on Kamilah. I tugged off my thermal from warm-up, careful to avoid smudging Aurora's hard work, and tossed it down on the bench. In the moment it took for me to grab my uniform top, the once buzzing locker room had fallen silent. Even Kamilah and her loyal minions remained quiet.
I could tell from the quiet gasps and whispered conversations that all eyes had turned to look at me. Or more specifically, the countless white scars that were scattered across my back. Layered on top of each other, they were the result of being forced to spend ten years sleeping on a bare mattress with a dozen or so rusted metal springs digging into the skin of my back.
Quickly I squeezed myself into the tiny uniform and turned to meet the gaze of every dancer in the room, including Aurora and Violet, who must have only joined us a moment before. With a new found confidence, I strode over to stand in front of a still silent Kamilah, choosing to meet her cool grey gaze. In that moment, I was made of steel.
"Kamilah, if you think anything you say to me is actually going to hurt me, you might want to think again. Because there are other things in life that hurt much more than being tormented by a spoiled bitch who think she's better than everyone else," I stated, my voice never wavering under her harmless glare.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I smiled up at her. The gesture only seemed to anger her more, but I didn't let it faze me. "We may be the Royals, but you sure as hell aren't the queen," I added cleverly.
Before Kamilah had the chance to retaliate, Aurora clapped her hands to get our attention. "Okay, girls, five minute warning. We wouldn't want to be late for our first home game!" she called out, and immediately the dancers started bustling around and chatting up a storm.
Kamilah took advantage of the lack of attention to reach out and grab onto my arm, pulling me towards her so I could hear her low voice. "That was a touching spiel, Grey. But you may want to check your phone before you even think about mouthing off to me like that again," she warned, venom obvious in her tone. She saddled me with yet another glare before shoving me away and stalking back to her friends.
I was barley able to grab my phone out of my dance bag before I was spun around to face a distraught looking Aurora. I didn't even have a chance to open my mouth before she started smearing Summer Grove's signature red paint all over my lips.
"I am so sorry, Scarlett," she rambled. "I had no idea. If I had even the slightest clue I would never have chosen these outfits." She paused for a moment to motion at the amount of skin my uniform showed, only to gasp softly when she saw yet another surgical scar running down my stomach.
"Oh my God, Scarlett. Shit. I can cover it up if you want? I clearly wasn't thinking. Did I mention how sorry I am?" she rushed, not even stopping to breathe before I put up a hand to silence her.
Never in the, albeit short, time I had known her had Aurora ever appeared nervous. But at that moment, she looked like she would either explode or pass out before we even made it to the lacrosse field.
"Aurora, stop. And breathe, please. You couldn't have known and you have nothing to be sorry about," I told her, holding her steady by her shoulders as I looked at her levelly.
She nodded and took a deep breath.
I nodded back, releasing her from my grip only after I was sure she had reverted back to calm, collected Aurora.
"Now, if you're finished acting like an over-caffeinated squirrel, I would love it if you could finish painting that shit on my face so I can get my ass out there and make a fool of myself," I grinned, earning a scowl from the blonde girl standing in front of me.
Yup, Aurora was back.
She resumed painting my face, as well as complaining about my lack of respect for beauty products. "Why do I even try? You refuse to even open your mind to the thought that makeup isn't a form of medieval torture. I just don't understand you."
I laughed at her clear frustration, only to earn a swat on the arm for nearly causing her to smudge her masterpiece.
After another torturous moment of standing still, Aurora stabbed the wand-brush-thing back into the red tube and smiled at her work. "All done. Now, if you so much as move an eyelash out of place, I will kill you. Got it?"
I pressed my now-dark red lips together to keep from laughing, but nodded nonetheless. We both knew I wouldn't make it to the field before I messed it up.
Regardless, it seemed to please her enough, because she smiled happily. "Good girl. Now, let's get out their and kick some ass."
My brow furrowed. "You know we're not actually competing for anything right?"
"Why are you so technical?" she countered, shaking her head slowly as she straightened her curls and touched up her own lipstick quickly. "Coming?" she asked as she headed for the crowd of red and black clad dancers waiting for her by the door.
"I'll catch up in just a second. I forgot to take one of my meds," I replied with a smile, the lie rolling off of my tongue with ease.
With a blazing smile, Aurora left me alone and I wasted no time turning on my phone. Sure enough, my lock screen reported that I had two unread text messages. The moment I punched in my passcode and stared down at the messages, I felt all of the blood drain from my face.
I stared at the grainy photo unblinkingly. Despite the blur and obvious distance the photo had been taken from, it was clear who was sitting in that car.
It was taken the morning Noah had driven me to school. The morning after I had spent the night at his house.
I barely had time to process what it meant before I heard Aurora call out for me to hurry up. I hadn't even realized that I had frozen on the spot in front of my dance bag, I could barely even think straight. Without a second thought, I deleted the messages and turned off my phone, proceeding to bury it in my bag.
With a deep breath and a well-rehearsed smile, I turned on my heel and ran to catch up with the rest of the team as we headed for the packed lacrosse field.
My life could wait a couple more hours before falling apart, right?
Hey guys!
I realize that this chapter is sort of all over the place. I must have spent about four hours trying to decide whether or not this chapter should be uploaded as one longer than usual, kind of erratic chapter or whether to split it into two short, and slightly less erratic chapters. Obviously, the former won out.
But I promise, all of it means something in the long run!
Even if I did kind of write all of this as I went along...
Anywho! I hope you found something about this literary mess to enjoy. I'm working on the next chapter now, and I hope to have it up soon for you.
In the mean time, here's an idea what to expect 😉
Pretty please, give it a vote and let me know if you recognized any of the shameless pop-culture references I sprinkled in!
Love you all ❤