I walked into my homeroom class where the teacher welcomed me. "Oliva, is it?"
My arms remained crossed, and I quickly walked over to my seat, ready to bury my arms underneath my desk. "Yes," I replied then sat down in my seat.
She walked behind her desk and began rummaging through her desk. "That's my daughter's name. I just love that name so much."
More students started pouring inside, making me more and more nervous. I felt goosebumps form on my arms. I wasn't used to not wearing a long sleeve shirt, which made me feel cold. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I give my jacket away like that? I wanted Rose to like me so much that I risked my scars being shown to everyone. It's not like I had one or two scars. I had many. Not an excessive amount, but enough for someone to call me insane.
I probably looked suspicious having my arms underneath my desk and my head over my desk. I just avoided eye contact. A few kids snorted when they passed me. I began turning red. I probably looked like a laughing stock, but that was better than people staring at me like I was crazy. I've seen people react to scars and cutting. They weren't friendly. I was aware that you could be sent somewhere for that. I could only imagine what the people in my class would think if they saw my arms. I didn't have to go to public school to know what other people would think of me for cutting.
"Olivia, please sit up. We don't sit like that in my class," the teacher said. That statement snapped me out of my thoughts hard. I looked up and saw her smiling at me.
By now, all eyes were on me. This was a serious situation, and I was about to have everything hit me at one. I slowly lifted my head up but kept my arms underneath. The teacher didn't have it. She placed her hand on her hip and frowned. "Put your hands on the desk, Olivia. Please sit properly."
I heard the seriousness in her voice. I crossed my arms and sat up, hoping no one would see.
"I said put your hands on your desk," she said.
Give me a break! I screamed in my mind. My heart was beating faster than I could think. I was about to uncross my hands when, suddenly, the front door opened and someone barged in disruptively. Before I could look at the door, I saw Rose, and she wasn't wearing my flannel shirt. She wore some black shirt that was a little too big for her.
"Excuse m-"
Rose faced the teacher and held up my flannel shirt. "I just came to give her jacket back."
"That is no reason to just barge in my class like th-"
"I'm going," she cut off the teacher once more. Before handing me my jacket, she gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
I quickly put it on while everyone watched her leave the classroom. The teacher sighed then continued with the class, finally leaving me alone. I rubbed the sleeve of my flannel jacket. I then breathed in the scent. It smelled like the expensive oils Shayla bought from Arabs in stores. It was strong, and unless I washed it, the smell would stay. I relaxed in my seat, telling myself that everything was okay. For some reason, I wanted to cry. My hands were still shaking, and my chest hurt so much. This wasn't my day.
***
During lunch, I sat outside hoping I'd see Rose, but she never came out. Perhaps she was in the library. I wanted to check, but I didn't. Rose didn't look so happy when she had seen my scars. I was scared that she thought I was a lunatic or something. I wanted to slam my fist against the table.
"I guess you weren't in the mood for apples today?"
I turned around and saw Robert holding two almost red apples. He sat beside me, uncomfortably close. I scooted over an inch. He handed me an apple, and I looked at it instead of him. Eye contact wasn't the easiest thing for me to do, especially while he was that close to me.
"Hey," I said, twirling the apple in my hand. "Today wasn't the best day."
"Well, the day didn't end yet," he said. "I heard what happened in the cafeteria. Actually, I saw what happened."
I looked at him, and he smiled. I had to turn away quickly, or else I would turn red. "You were there?"
"I wanted to do something, but you walked off too fast," he said. "Megan is a drama queen. Her and her followers."
"Do they ever leave her side?" I asked.
He laughed. "No. They're like her bitchy shadows or something. We should give them a name."
"Shadow bitches?" I recommended.
He let out a loud dorkish laugh that made me laugh even more. "I really like that," he said.
"Megan and the shadow bitches," I said. I didn't like cursing. I hated it, but in cases like this, it didn't bother me.
"If we make it out of school alive, promise me you'll write a book about them," he chuckled.
"I could never write a book," I admitted. "However, that'd be cool."
"You should come to the library with me," he stood up. "The librarian there is an author. You should hear her story. She failed every comprehension and writing test since she was a kid up until she turned 18. Now she's a writer with over twenty books."
"Really?"
"Come on," he said and stretched out his hand. "Let's go check her out." I took his hand and let him lead me towards the library.
***
The library was soundless, except for keyboards clicking with every push from a finger. There was a circular counter near the entrance and behind it were three women who were checking out books. "This way," Robert walked over to the last woman at the end. We stood behind one student who was checking out a few kids books.
"What's that on her hands?" I asked Robert when I saw that both the librarian's hands were covered up. They reminded me of those fingerless grip gloves that bikers wore, but they also looked like some people wore when then broke their hand. She couldn't have broken both hands, could she?
"She has carpal tunnel. It's a pinched nerve in the wrist, and it hurts like hell," he said.
"And she still writes?" I asked.
"Like a champ," he smiled.
"Won't that make it worse?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "But when you have a passion for something, you will work through blood and tears for it. It's called hard work for something you love."
We were next in line, and she looked at me. "Hey! How can I help you?"
"Damn, be right back," Robert said. "Bathroom."
Before I could say anything, he was already walking out of the door, leaving me alone. I looked at the librarian. Her name tag read: Jakayla Toney.
I choked on my words, not wanting to be alone at that moment. "Where's the horror books?" I asked. I was too shy to ask her about writing and all that. That would lead into a one on one conversation with someone I barely knew, and I was not used to that. With Rose and Robert it was okay, but other people? It wasn't that easy.
She pointed to a middle shelf. "Over there. You should check out Mary Down Hahning. Her books ought to give you a spook," she winked.
I thanked her and walked over to a shelf where I found Rose standing up while reading a book. Her smile gave me relief. "Hey!" She walked over to me.
"Hey," I replied back, not knowing what to say.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know. You gave me your shirt and I just," she pulled me in for a hug. "I didn't know."
I let my hands linger around her, but I didn't pull her in for a hug. I let her hug me which really put some kind of spell on me. I couldn't explain it, but wow! It felt so good to be hugged, and I didn't want her to stop. However, she did.
"It's okay," I said.
"If you ever need a friend," she continued. "I'm here."
I saw Robert almost walk past the aisle we were in. "Robert?" I called out. He stopped, looked at us, then walked away.
"What?" Rose looked in my direction.
I waved him off. "It was just the Robert I told you about."
"Robert Parker?" She said.
I nodded. "Yes."
"I asked my teacher if there were any other Robert Parkers in this school and he said no," she said. "There are no other Robert Parkers here, Olivia."
"Do you think I'm lying?" I asked, worried she might have.
She sighed. "I don't know what to think," she faced the bookshelf.
I stood there, not sure what else to say. I was sure that she and Robert had some sort of history together. He saw her and kept going, and she got uncanny whenever I said his name. I couldn't help it. I had to ask.
"Was he your boyfriend or something?" I asked.
She turned around and flashed me a frown. "No!" She almost said a little too loudly. "Robert Parker was a bully responsible for the death of many teens who committed suicide in 6th grade. I was one of his targets, and he taunted me for so long since I was small. Whenever I hear his name, I want to fucking puke."
She shoved the book back on the shelf then walked away, leaving me clueless once again. I stood there and looked at the books. This couldn't have been the same Robert and if it was, then what happened to the old one? There was only one way I could find out if it was the same Robert. I needed a yearbook and now.
***
I'd like to apologize in advanced that I didn't put a trigger warning note in this book. I added it to my blurb. I'm really sorry for that and hope those who got affected forgive me for that.