As soon as I walk pass him he squeezes next to me under the safety of the small umbrella, his feet trying to keep up with the fast pace of mine. There was only silence between us as we walked, the storm noises mildly entertaining me even though I was freezing myself to death. I couldn't help but think about how comfortable it would've been if I was under the roof of a car, watching the ice fall through the windows. I didn't know when was the last time I’ve been honest with my aunt or my uncle. Perhaps never. Ever since I moved in all I did was lie to them. They wanted to help me when I cried every night for my parents’ death before I moved in but I didn't let them in. Even so, they remained good to me. I couldn't be more grateful to have such a life; even though their children despise my very existence, they loved me as their own. And what did I do to repay them? Hide more things away until I’ve built this fake image of myself in their eyes. And was lying to them again by hiding a literal stranger in my room.
The streets were empty as we walked through except for a few people under umbrellas and thick clothing, cars passing by the white roads every now and then. I wondered if we’ll ever make it through once we distribute the flyers around town for the hail didn't look like it will stop anytime soon. It seemed like a lot of work, but for our friend we’ll do it. Which reminds me, I still had Arthur's coat in my bag and I could probably use that to prevent my teeth from chattering from the cold, however I digressed. I glanced over next to me to check up on him, his arms folded around his body. He smelled better than he did last night. My shampoo and bed effused from him as he strided at close proximity to me. He was wearing aunt Marianne's worn out garden slippers, the thing barely fitting as the thin rubber flapped against the cement ground, guilt punching through me from the sight.
I’ll definitely buy him slippers, or maybe Georgie can do that for me.
School wasn't that far from where we lived, I've learned that the minute I realized I could get to it just by walking, but this time going there felt painstakingly long from the storm. I didn't know if it was because of the weather or my anxiety building up everytime we neared from the constant thought of Arthur interacting with my friends without my knowledge. Surely they would just ignore him but with the mention of my name they’ll refrain. Although I don't think Arthur would actually talk to them without me. By the time we reached school grounds it was completely alienated of people which I can't be thankful enough for, cars parked across as ice scattered throughout the entire parking spaces. The last thing I wanted is to have people staring at me because of the odd guy limping next to me. Such a scenario would fuel gossips again and I’ve had enough.
We head towards the main entrance, warmth greeting my face upon entering the door. I fold the umbrella back to its previous state, shaking off the ice from the fabric before shoving it back into my backpack. Unfortunately the hallways had a lot of people roaming round; a usual scene in second period when teachers are just so so upon obligating their students to going to their classes. It was nine thirty. My eyes immediately search for the familiar faces of my friends, failing to find them next to the lockers. Not that they ever hungout in the hallways. Georgie knew better than display our entire group for other students to remind us of the rumors Ericka spread about us so most of the time we cut classes or hangout at the back. It was the only place where shitty people didn't cat call Georgie or taunted Dalton and Dustin for being drug dealers.
The stranger next to me only stood there, eyes scanning the entire place like a little kid shoved into a school for the first time in his life. Hillside Highschool wasn't that big of a deal, but I would be lying if I didn't admit it was mildly fascinating. Not just because of its history, but also for the architecture and the endurance of it over the thousands of calamities that struck it after fifty seven years. It wasn't a surprise that hundreds of storms and disasters occur in Hillside every year, after all natives do genuinely claim the entire town cursed because of the hospital and the suicides. In all of Pennsylvania we were the number one town to have the most murders and killings.
I used to be enthusiastic over such topics when I was a kid. Despite my father's constant reminders that ghosts and curses weren't real, I remained an avid researcher. Nevertheless, after the incident I’ve just forgotten everything I was before it. It was like a piece of me was tore off and replaced by only painful memories.
“Haven’t you been in a school before?” I ask out of curiosity, watching his eyes scan the ceilings before landing on me. Surely he has right? Even if he hadn't been to high school or college, he must've stepped on an elementary school before. Almost everyone in this town has, unless he's from another state and just happened to stumble upon this place.
“I have.” He answers, “It’s just that— it didn't necessarily look like this.” his eyes going back to pondering over the walls. “Also, I never finished High School.”
“Good.” I murmur under my breath, and resume walking, “You shouldn't.”
“Why not?” I hear him behind me, Mary's rubber slippers squeaking against the tiles as he follows me.
Why not? His obvious question bounces off the corners of my ears. It was the most simple inquiring I've ever heard in my life. Yeah, why not? What has highschool done to me that I hate it to the moon and back? Am I really that pathetic to suggest illiteracy to a homeless guy? Nonetheless, I couldn't blame myself. “High School isn't really a paradise, if you haven't been informed.” A lump rises at the back of my throat, my voice trailing off as the past four years flash before my eyes, including the multiple times I have cried inside bathroom stalls with a stolen scalpel in my hand from biology while I bled on the toilet. It wasn't a great sight and every time I remember it makes me want to ask myself why I’ve done such a thing. If I could count the numerous amounts of times I wounded myself for hearing my name be soiled by other people, it’ll be a while, and remembering it in the middle of the hallways wasn't the best idea. “There are a lot of people who can hurt you around here.”
“I’ve experienced worse, maybe I can handle them.”
I look back at him, gripping the strap of my bag as my eyes meet his. I could just imagine how difficult it probably is to be homeless for good knows how long and being morally bullied would probably the least of his worries. Although I asked myself the same thing when Ericka and Ella first fucked my life. I was so wrong. I couldn't handle them. It's been four years and I still can't handle them. I was a naive little girl to think I could.
I took a deep breath, momentarily closing my eyes to give space to the bees whispering into my ears. I’ve had enough of those for today alone. I quickly scan the entirety of the corridors for traces of Georgie or Jumper or anyone at all from the pack and I still don't find them. Surely they’re in class, or they've decided to roam town without me. As much as I didn't want to leave him by himself to give way for the inevitable providence that he’d stumble upon my cousins, the best option now would be to attend classes for I haven't been taking attendance seriously for the past week and uncle Ron might notice and it's not like my grades were fixing themselves from the impending doom of failing high school. I’d just have to improvise if I want to make this work, and constantly reminiscing about the past wouldn't be helpful in my situation.
I continue walking and he follows, the bells ringing again as we reach the library entrance at the edge of the Hallway, the glass doors opening automatically as we step on the black doormat in front of the entrance. It was even colder in there, almost like winter, however it was emptied of people except for the librarian by the front desk and three people on the computers researching something. I’ve been there an unhealthy amount of times before I met Georgie, although lately I never found the time to read again. It was a huge room as far as I could remember. This would be a good place to leave him. Ella never goes there so that's a plus, but Ericka does surprisingly. I’d constantly find her borrowing horror books and the histories of Hillside.
“I’m heading to class.” I say to him, wedging my hand into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a rolled up twenty dollar bill and handing it to him. It was the only thing I spared from the night of the halloween dance when we got busted inside the storage room. The entire bill was clumpy from rainwater When I first saw it it still had cocaine powder on it. He just looks at my hand in turmoil and then back at me, my patience wearing off as I take his cold grip and shove the paper into it. “Stay here until I get back.” I instructed, letting his hand go. “If you get hungry, get something from the cafeteria, it's on the second floor. Don't talk to anyone you don't know.”
For a second I felt like a mother reminding her child to avoid interactions with strangers. He nods, crumpling the bill into his grasp, the a.c blowing on the strands of his hair as we stood by the entrance. Chills crawled down my spine the longer I stayed there, he on the other hand didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by the blizzard inside the glass doors.
“What was your name again?” I queried, fixing the straps of my backpack. “You told me last night but I—”
“Bill.” He looks up at me, his face lacking any expression as he says his name.
“Bill.” I repeat, the name oddly foreign to my tongue. “Don’t come home.” I tell him sternly, assuming he could with the weather, I just needed to assure he won't. “If you go home without me, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mary might catch you and we’ll have bigger problems, you got me? You can't come home.”
“Okay.” he nods again.
I stood there awkwardly and waited for myself or him to say something again that could break the silence, but I felt like I’ve said enough, my fist clenched next to me as I shivered in cold, the fever certainly not helping. “Go on at the back, I’ll see you later.” I murmured, rubbing my cast with my other hand. There was this peculiar urge inside me to do something before abandoning him, which let alone is weird on its own. Maybe it had something to do with leaving people unloved, not that I was going to do it in the first place.
He finally walks in, and I obligate myself into watching him until he reaches the back, after all it's the least I can do. His entirety didn't fit for the stale colors of the library. It was way too difficult not to notice him in his bushy facial hair and faded white clothing in a huge room with white walls, not to mention the fucking gardening slippers which didn't reach his heel. I watch as the librarian from the front desk immediately get her eyes on the weird dude entering her domain, the other two students on their computers unbothered. I sighed, forcing my eyes away once he turns towards one line of shelves. I step off the doormat and proceeded to walk away, the floors rumbling as the doors whirred close.
Everything was going well so far, maybe this could work. Certainly eventually I would have to find other ways of hiding him from people, but as of right now I needed to attend to everything I abandoned yesterday. First my classes, then my friends, and hopefully not Arthur. Everyone but him. As rude as it sounds when he's been nothing but nice to me, I didn't have the precious time to talk to him. At least not right now that I can't handle any more mental exhaustion. I still have to tell my friends first about him— if I even grow the balls to do so. Nonetheless. I don't think I will which adds to my list of worries.
“Hey!” Someone yelled inside the library that I was walking away from, my heart falling out of my chest as my feet came into a halt, my fingers scratching the strap of my bag in anxiety. “Watch where you’re going!”
My head snaps back towards the doors to check further confirming my horrors; the view inside of two guys standing not far from each other next to a line of shelves greeting my eyes; one of them being Bill’s remorseful face as the bright white lights illuminated his unusually pale skin, faint coffee stains tainting Dalton's sweater. I find myself sprinting back into the library, passing through the sliding doors and hastily catching his wrist, pulling him away from the commotion as I fish for the handkerchief in my pockets.
“Look at what you’ve done!” the other guy protested still behind me as I face Bill and make miserable attempts of wiping off the coffee stains. It's enough that I'm giving Aunt Marianne more laundry by making a stranger live in her house behind her back, I didn't want to make the job even more difficult for her.
“I’m sorry.” Bill mumbled with his head down, his wide eyes looking directly at the guy in front of him, however instead of shame a mixture of anger and pain manifested itself all over his visage and I couldn't quite figure out what emotion it was.
“No, where were you even going? Didn't you see I was walking your way?!”
My eyes made the mistake of looking around us, meeting the glances of the four other people inside all staring at us now, the librarian’s judgemental gaze behind her glasses heating my face. This is just what I was going to avoid for the rest of the day and now I was in the middle of it. For fuck’s sake. The last time I had been in such a scenario was when Ella found the necessity to humiliate me in front of the whole lunchroom three years ago, and ever since I promised myself I’ll never be in the same situation again, yet there I was. I shove the handkerchief back into my pocket, turning on my heel to face the consequences of whatever he did. “I’m sorry, sir—” I began, immediately choking on my own words as disturbingly familiar blue irises looked down at me, all the words previously flooding my head sinking back at the pit of my stomach.
“Adrianne?” He says my name, the previous anger on his face replaced entirely by warmth and I almost wanted to hide myself behind Bill but I didn't and instead my feet were cemented on the floor, unable to move.
Of all the fucking people. “What are you doing here?” I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat, my eyes trailing down to the same coat he wore when I bumped into him in the rain days ago, an opened paper coffee cup dripping brown liquid into his fingers as he hugged two huge books against his torso. Nevermind, I didn't in anyway want to know what he was doing there. I didn't care if he read books like Ericka despite not looking like they do, all I wanted to do was leave.
“Well— I was just going to borrow something for research.” He replies quickly, looking back down the hardcovers in his grasp before placing his eyes back to my face. “—You? What are you doing here? You didn't text me, I thought you said you’ll keep me updated on the plan?”
I began dissecting the wave of questions I just heard leave his lips as I stood there in between him and Bill, butterflies erupting inside my stomach the longer I remained in the winter cold room. Why was he even concerned and why am I even making the effort of overthinking what to answer him? He wasn't any of my friends, I didn't need to obligate myself into telling him anything and I certainly didn't need to tell him the cluster fuck my life has been for the past twenty four hours. I couldn't believe that only earlier I was dreading all the single possibilities not seeing him again and as if that wasn't enough he just had to be in the same fucking place at the same fucking time.
“Do you know this guy?” He questions, nodding his head at Bill and I almost forget he was still there, his heavy breathing making up for his silence. I look back at him, his intense gaze still fixated on Arthur's face, his jaw clenched behind his beard.
“Yeah— He-he’s one of my friends.” I retorted, fumbling with the loose threads littering the backpack strap. “I’m sorry about that— he’s new here so he doesn't really get the kicks. I-I could replace your coat if you want—” I suggested, reminding myself of his coat still in my bag.
“No, no, it’s fine.” He shook his head, chuckling awkwardly as he shakes off the sticky coffee drips from his hand, a huge dark stain covering most of the lower part of his coat. Romina was right. He liked wearing coats. Not that I cared anyway, it's just strange that for some reason after five years of being in Hillside, I’m now unfortunately associated with him. “Just watch where you're going next time, you might hurt yourself.” He reminds Bill.
Bill didn't reply and instead just stood there, his eyes never leaving Arthur's visage like it was stuck, his chest heaving up and down like he just ran a marathon. As my eyes gravitated down, his knuckles were white, green veins pulsating under his almost paper-white wrist. He’s been seen by enough people today, and I was actually feeling the same thing, I just didn't want that part of me take over today as much as I wanted to. I was already sick and I still had to go around town. If I had the choice, I would've stayed inside my room all day and wallowed in regret, but I’ve ran away from the consequences long enough. Hell, one is already chasing me right now. If I have known he’d be in the library I shouldn't have gone there.
“Arthur, will you give us a second? I-I just need to tell him something important.” I stated. my voice hoarse and barely audible but he caught it anyway as he nodded and mumbled a small “Sure.” I gripped Bill’s wrist again, his skin cold against my hot hand. I needed to get him away as soon as possible before people start to notice that he doesn't go there. I could've just made him stay home in my room all day till I get back to make things easier for myself. That was my plan in the first place anyway; however, now I’ve realized how dumb that idea was. Aunt Mary could come in anytime to clean the hamper. Fucking hell, I can't believe I haven't thought of that.
My vision spun ever so slightly each step of my feet, scenarios from last night flashing across my eyes as I walked further into the library, bookshelves closing in on us the deeper we went in. The way his hand reached out from the darkness even though it shouldn't be there last night, and the feeling of being watched. It has been him all along and I didn't know why I was contemplating about it there. By now I still haven't accepted that I was doing this to myself again. Why did I even listen to him?
At edge of the isle was an old window, in front of it a wooden table, three chairs surrounding it. The hail still went on outside the window pane. Perhaps this would be a good place to leave him for a while. I finally let go of his hand, making the effort of pulling out one of the wooden chairs for him. “Wait here until I get back.” I instructed.
“Your school has a lot of evil people in it.” He muttered under his breath as he sat down, resting his arms on top of the table. I scoff at the comment, knowing well he didn't need to tell me. I’ve been in highschool long enough to know that. But then again, he’s only been inside for an hour, he doesn't know shit. The only reason for him to have such a conclusion is the encounter with Arthur which isn’t even that bad. I’ve experienced worse. Coffee is not the only thing that has been thrown at me for the duration I’ve been here and all my friends could say the same. “Be careful.” He says and I walk away from the table, exiting the inner side of the shelves back into the main room.