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i n f a m o u s
The seconds after Dave's statement were filled with silence. I was rendered completely speechless by his words. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I subconsciously knew that Callum liked me, had always liked me, but I never realised it factored into his feud with Jason.
Suddenly, I recalled the afternoon Greg and I were looking for Callum. I remembered the sardonic look on Greg's face as he said, of Callum -
Didn't you ever catch him staring at you like an idiot whenever we walked past you in the hallway? He always thought you'd already figured it out yourself - given the fact that your friend Burke never stopped being an ass about it.
His words now fell into place, like a missing puzzle piece that I'd been searching for all this while, only to realise it was right under my nose the whole time. I just never opened my eyes big enough to recognise it.
I frowned at Dave. "Explain yourself, please. I kind of get it, but I'm not sure I understand all of it."
But he shook his head, resolutely returning his attention to the questions in front of him. "Sorry, Scout, but I've said far too much."
"So why not just say it all?"
"Well, Jason's my friend," he said, simply. "I'm not going to say things about him behind his back."
And that was that. No matter how much probing and convincing and persuading I proceeded to do for the next forty-five minutes, Dave refused to budge. His expression stoic, he focused solely on the maths questions, and I was utterly exasperated by the end of the lesson.
You see, it eventually dawned on me that, ultimately, through it all, I was still the outsider. I now knew I was the centre of their feud, but that did not make me feel the least bit included. In fact, with all the things kept hidden from me, it made me feel like a complete fool, ignorant and oblivious to everything that had happened thus far.
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It was only when I saw Greg heading to the cafeteria alone the following afternoon that I realised the answer was right before me the whole time. If I couldn't ferret the answers out of Dave, then it was Greg who could give me the answers I wanted.
Quickening my pace, I hastily caught up with him, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, eyes widening in surprise as he realised it was me.
"Hey, Scout," his lips curled into a friendly, teasing grin. He was vastly different from the menacing, intimidating figure I had seen the Monday after Hell Week. "Looking for Callum?"
"Not at all. There's actually something I need to talk to you about."
His steps slowed, and he cast a hesitant glance at the entrance of the cafeteria, before looking back at me. "Should we go someplace else to talk?"
I shrugged, immediately understanding his underlying meaning - he was popular and I was not, therefore we could not be seen together under any normal circumstances. "Sure."
We changed directions and began to head to the east wing of the building. The corridor of the east wing was relatively empty, save for a few students who gave us rather odd looks as they passed, clearly unaccustomed to seeing Greg with someone else outside his social circle.
A few of them even went so far as to stop and blatantly stare, which made me flush in embarrassment. "Well, this is awkward," I muttered, under my breath.
Greg overheard, and chuckled. "Ashamed to be seen with me?"
I shook my head. "Shouldn't it be the other way round?"
"Hardly," he replied, and his next words took me by surprise. "I figured your friends - " and he said that in a rather mocking manner " - wouldn't want you to be seen with someone like me, that's why I figured we'd be better off not going into the cafeteria to talk."
"Someone like you," I echoed, a frown edging its way between my eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Heartless, cruel, screwed-up," he returned, without missing a beat.
"Don't be ridiculous," I elbowed him teasingly. "You're not that bad."
"Tell that to Callum. Ever since we found out about his crush on you, he forbade any one of us to speak to you, because he was worried we'd scare you off."
"I don't get scared easily!" I exclaimed, indignantly. But deep down inside, I knew Callum was right. I had been genuinely frightened of Greg when I saw the baseball bat in his hands.
"I figured as much. Otherwise you wouldn't have come to talk to me. Or maybe you just find me plain irresistible," he added, shooting me a quick wink.
My mouth fell open - I had no idea how to react to that. Jason and Dave and my old friends never teased me in that manner, they weren't exactly adept in the art of flirting, and I was now at a loss for words, unsure if Greg was being serious.
But not more than two seconds later, his straight face crumpled and he burst out in laughter. I frowned, immediately realising he was just fooling around, but it was difficult to stop the smile from spreading across my face.
"I hate you."
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," he teased, slinging an arm round my shoulder as I began to walk away from him. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Oh, right." With all his jokes, I had almost forgotten about my original intention. "Remember the other day - during Hell Week - when you were talking about Callum having a crush on me?" I couldn't help but flush as I said that.
"Lover-boy Wright?" he let out a short bark of laughter when I swatted him, "Yeah, I remember."
"And you said that Jason never stopped being an ass about it. What exactly did you mean by that?"
The smile abruptly faded from his face, and his pace slowed. "Some things are better left kept in the dark, Scout. Once you know, it'll change your perception on a lot of things."
"If by 'a lot of things', you mean Jason, then it's fine. I can handle it," I told him, "I'm tired of not knowing, of having you boys treat me like I'm some fragile porcelain doll to be handled with care all the time."
Perhaps there was something in the way I said it, for the next moment, the expression on Greg's face softened and he nodded.
"Fine," he said, shortly, "But this didn't come from me."
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That afternoon was no different from any other. The air hung still and sluggish, like an indolent sigh on the tip of one's tongue. The day's lessons had taken its toil upon us, the weather had affected the moods of many - my Biology teacher, for example, was particularly snappish during seventh period.
But I could hardly care less about my teacher's snappish behaviour, or the mood. Greg's revelation had opened my eyes in more ways than one, and I felt like I had been looking through tinted lenses all this while.
It was different now, though. The scales had finally fallen from my eyes, and everything was crystal clear, everything made sense. I noticed him in the hallway that afternoon, the hemline of his shirt rising up as he reached to stuff the books in the topmost compartment of his locker. Jason was never particularly tall enough, compared to the other guys our age anyway.
I watched as he slammed the locker door shut and strode off, only to bump into a bunch of jocks. He stumbled, they laughed, left him standing there without a single word of apology. The glare he gave them as they left was enough to burn holes into their back. Deadly, utterly vicious.
He's always been...vengeful; I could hear Greg's words repeat themselves in my head, if Hell Week isn't enough of an indicator, look at the way he pauses to give those hate-filled glares at the popular kids.
You've noticed? I was more than surprised to hear him say that.
Scout, I get these looks from him practically ten times every day.
But Jason was not the bad person here - no one was. Or, perhaps, we were all complicit in some way or other. Whether we were the bullied, or the bully, or just the person standing on the side-lines watching it all unfold, right before our very eyes.
It was then that I noticed the infamous bully himself, his back view disappearing from my peripheral vision as he headed towards the exit. Before I knew it, I was following him, my pace speeding up to a slight jog so I could catch up.
Yet when I found myself ten steps away from him, my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, my throat was dry. What did you say to someone who had fallen in love with you years ago? What could you say to the boy who still was in love with you, even after all this time?
Well, kudos to you, Greg had said, it's amazing how you managed to twist two guys completely around your little finger. Particularly Callum, he's completely smitten with you since forever - oh, don't look at me like that, Scout, couldn't you tell? Why do you think your friend Burke and Callum are always at loggerheads?
Burke's had a thing for you some time during sophomore year. And because he's got a monopoly on you, he's always been a complete ass about it. Telling Callum he'll never be good enough for you, threatening Callum by saying he'll reveal the meltdown during gym class if Callum so much as spoke to you.
What meltdown? I had asked, but Greg shook his head - it was not his place to say it, and he felt like it was better if it came from Callum instead.
Let me ask you this, Scout - Greg's stare was intent as he said this, his gaze almost probing, insistent - exactly how well do you know Callum?
I simply had no answer to that. Greg was right. When it came down to the relationship (if it could even be called that) I shared with Callum, I knew almost close to nothing about him. He had always been a tight-lipped mystery, perhaps that was what was so alluring about him, what made me fall head over heels into an abyss far too deep to clamber out.
And as I stared at Callum now, standing a good distance away from him, I realised this was what it always was - a gap that had never quite been bridged between the two. No, it was not the irreconcilable differences that separated us, the way it was with Callum and Jason. Rather, it was the silence, words that were left unsaid, simply because we could not say them.
I needed to say them now. Better late than never.
So, squaring my shoulders, I went up to him. His bag was slung over one shoulder, head bent as he dug around in his jeans pocket for the car keys.
"Callum?" my voice sounded tentative, almost fragile, the syllables of his name slid gently off my tongue, curled around my lips like warm velvet.
He stilled at the sound of his name, before turning around quickly. His eyebrows were arched in a mixture of disbelief and wariness. "Hey, Scout."
"I - "
But then the words dried on the tip of my tongue. And just as the realisation came to me about the distance between us that had never quite been bridged, I began to understand that, perhaps, it had been bridged all this time. Not through words, but through actions.
It came in flashbacks, then. The first day we had met, him offering me his jacket because of the cold weather. And me giving it back to him that first day of Hell Week. We had each others' backs the whole time. No matter how far away we went from each other, something pulled us back, like a magnetic force too complicated to name.
So, without saying another word, I closed the distance between us. The muscles on the planes of his back froze at the contact - he seemed more than surprised.
But then he recovered quickly, his strong arms winding themselves around my waist. His grip was almost tight, like he could hardly believe I was there, and I felt his soft, unsteady breath gloss the crown of my head.
"I've missed you," he murmured, the familiarity of his voice sending a wave of nostalgia through me that was almost crushing. "So fucking much."
After lingering in his embrace for a moment too long, I reluctantly pulled away from him. "It's going to be different this time," I said, simply, "I'm never going to put you on a pedestal again, or think you're perfect, because I know how flawed you can be."
"I know," he whispered. His rough palm cupped my cheek, tilted my face up so that I was looking at him. "And that's okay. I know how screwed up I am, but all I'm asking for is another chance. I just - " he shut his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, there was a fire of determination in his eyes. " - I just want to show you that I can be something more. More than just a bully or a bad person or any of those idiotic stereotypes people label on me. And if you'd just give me a chance, I promise I'll never hurt you again."
"You promise?" I couldn't help but voice my scepticism. The events after Hell Week, after all, had made me more than cynical.
"I - " A flicker of hesitation seeped through the determination in his eyes, and I pulled away from him gently.
"Don't," I murmured, even though my skin craved his touch, and with that brief contact, I finally realised how much I had missed him. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Because promises are meant to be broken anyway, I wanted to add, but my phone suddenly rang. Holding one finger up, I hastily mouthed "one sec," before rummaging through my bag.
Phone calls were generally unusual, since most people generally texted me. Unless - unless, it was an emergency. Sometimes you could pre-empt something before it actually happened, and this was one of them. A sinking feeling in my stomach as I pressed the 'answer' button nervously, forgetting to look at the caller ID in my haste.
"Hello?"
"Scout?" I immediately recognised the voice - it was Molly's. She sounded frantic, bordering on hysterical. "It's me. My water just broke - I think, and I can't reach Charlie."
My mind blanked. "What?" I gasped, at last, my voice a strangled, hoarse whisper.
"I think the baby's coming."