So, it's been a while lol
Sorry for the break I took, but things are back in order now, and Scars will now be updated every Wednesday!
Thank you all for the patience. Here's your well-deserved update!
Chapter 6:
As soon as I stepped foot into the school building, someone came immediately by my side. I saw their shoes before I heard their voice. They were a pair of black vans that were clearly worn, but they still looked presentable. "Hey, Liam," The voice greeted in a cheerful manner, and I knew right away that it was Louis.
He was walking right beside me, and I instantly felt uncomfortable about the whole situation. I could feel the eyes staring at us. It didn't feel like it did whenever they simply stared at me. It felt worse. There was a tension that I could feel in the air, and I knew it was because people were shocked that someone like Louis would ever even say hi to me.
I walked a bit faster, shoving my hands into my pockets and creating a bit of space between us, however, Louis seemed persistent in his advances as he picked up his pace as well. He was soon walking beside me again, and when he spoke, his voice still sounded upbeat and chipper.
"Coming to writing club today? It's going to be fun. Harry's doing a poetry night, and he's going to tell us all about it today. It's basically reading in front of a crowd of people at a poetry club, but it sounds like a lot of fun. Are you any good at poetry?" Louis rambled, and every single word sounded so distant, yet so close.
My eyes glanced over at his shoes, and I heard him greeting other people he knew while still walking beside me like it wasn't a big deal. I bit the inside of my lip as I felt my palms begin to sweat a bit in my pockets. I stopped walking at a corner, making Louis halt in his steps as well, and I turned to him, never once lifting my eyes from the ground.
"Why are you talking to me?"
He let out a baffled chuckle before asking, "What do you mean? Do you... do you not want me to talk to you?"
I lifted my gaze a bit higher, not showing my face, but enough to see that his hands were not rubbing together nervously, his fingers thrumming against each other. He shuffled his feet a bit, and I felt someone shove passed me, not even apologising as I stumbled a bit, trying to catch myself. Louis' hands shot out and grabbed a hold of my arms, holding me steady as I planted my feet down once more.
"No," I whispered out, my voice sounding hoarse and low. Louis must not have heard me because he spoke over my delicate tone.
"What the hell? Did people suddenly forget their manners?" He cried, and I knew that his focus was no longer on me. He was speaking far too loud to have been talking to me. His feet were turned away from me, turned at an angle. He was shouting after whoever bumped into me.
"Stop that!" I warned, capturing his attention as his body turned back towards me.
"What? Why?" He wondered, voice holding both disbelief and a hint of rage. "It's rude to just bump into people like that."
"I'm used to it," I murmured before turning away and continuing on to class. Of course, Louis still didn't walk away. He continued to follow, and I felt him rush a bit to walk beside me once again. He seemed so unfazed by everything, and I wondered why.
"You shouldn't have to be. Maybe people should recognize that we're all human here," Louis mouthed off, speaking loudly through the hallway, and I wanted to run and hide.
I hung my head lower, my stare burning into the tiled ground, and I tried to shrink in on myself, but Louis' voice was still there. Loud and proud.
"You know, you sort of have this whole Phantom of the Opera thing going on. I mean, not exactly, but you're hiding your face from everyone when it shouldn't matter. Who cares what you look like? Last time I checked, there are hardly any perfect tens in this school."
"Louis, can you please stop? The last thing I need is more attention," I spoke in a rushed whisper, and Louis gave out a sigh.
"Well, people need to know that they can't just go around messing with people. Especially not my friends."
I froze in my spot, watching Louis walk a little ways ahead before realizing I stopped. The word hit me straight in the chest. It was like a cold bucket of ice water being dumped right over my head. It was a word I hadn't heard in such a long time.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay today?" Louis questioned, walking back to me and reaching his hand up to try and feel my forehead for my temperature, and I flinched away as if he was trying to burn me. I wouldn't be the fly attracted to the light of a bug zapper.
"We're not friends," I strictly stated, managing to look up at Louis to see how shocked and confused he was. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was hung open as if he wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say. He took a step closer to me, but I shook my head and lowered my gaze back down to the ground. "You don't want to be friends with me."
I walked around him and rushed down the hallway, imagining him standing there in a shocked silence, hand still in the air and his mouth still hanging open. I felt guilt claw at me just like it always did.
It was there whenever I told my dad I was fine when he clearly saw that I wasn't. It was lingering when I tried to brush Ruth off, telling her anything to please her so she would get off my case. It was there in the fact that I haven't called or spoken to Nicola since I found out she was studying psychology. The guilt was always hidden within my shadow, playing a game of tag that never ended.
I made my way to class and took my seat in the back of the room, immediately looking at my desk. I pulled my school book out of my bag and set it on top of my desk, flipping through it simply to give myself something to do. I felt a mound of stress and regret itching at me, and I wanted to push it away from me, but I didn't know how.
Suddenly, my book was slammed shut on my desk, my hand almost being crushed inside of it. I kept my head down, not once peaking up. I didn't have to in order to know who it was.
"Hey, freak. Saw you talking to Tomlinson today. Are you finally making friends, or does the theatre nerd just feel sorry for you? Maybe they'll cast you in something like Frankenstein or The Hunchback of Notre Dame." Jaden snarked, sitting on the desk in front of me and resting his feet in the chair.
I didn't dignify his words with an answer.
"Of course, then people would be forced to look at your face. It'd probably be a lose, lose situation," He mused, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "It'd probably be the show with the least amount of audience members."
I remained silent, staring down at my closed English book and hoping Jaden would get bored of receiving no reaction and walk away. Of course, that was wishful thinking.
"So, you're a freak who's deaf and mute now? You should be in a fucking freak show," He laughed out, and I felt the eyes on us now.
"Can you please... leave me alone?"
I gripped at the edge of my desk, feeling my eyes well up with tears. I closed them for a moment, willing the tears to disappear. I heard the desk in front of me creak, and I could feel that Jaden was coming closer. I could feel his body heat and I inagined the way he was probably looming over me with a sneer on his face.
"I could, but then who would remind you of how disgusting you are to even look at?" He leaned in closer, and I heard him whisper in my ear. "You know, if you want to disappear so badly, why don't you just do it?"
He pulled away after that, and I stayed seated, staring at the letters on my English textbook cover. They became blurry as my eyes watered, but I blinked quickly to make the tears go away. I didn't want to be their free show to watch.
I heard the teacher's office open up, and she walked into the room, asking everyone to take their seats. That was the only time I felt the eyes drift away from me. It was the only time I felt like nobody was watching.
I heard the teacher begin to write on the board, her marker making a slightly squeaky noise as it rubbed against the white board.
"Today we begin our lesson on tragedies. Can anybody tell me what a tragedy is?"
The room fell silent, and I refuses to raise my hand. I refuses to make a single move. I simply sat, and I endured.
"Originally, tragedy was a label used to say that a play had a rather undesirable ending as opposed to comedies. Now, the term takes on exactly what the definition is itself. Tragedies are full of struggle and unfortunate events, usually caused or received by a type of hero of the story. However, tragedies also often deal with one question of humanity: the role of man in the universe."
I heard the marker squeaking angrily at the board again, and I heard students begin to rummage through their bags for notebooks and pencils and pens to take notes. I didn't take notes. I never took notes in class.
"These struggles can be seen throughout several tragedies. In fact, in one of Shakespeare's most famous tragedies, there is a speech, a soliloquy, debating the realities of life and death and whether living truly matters. This will be the first tragedy we will be reading and discussing. Can anybody tell me what it's called?"
Again, there was silence. The teacher set down the marker and began walking around the room, her shoes making the most subtle click! against the carpeted floor.
"'To be or not to be: that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?' Anybody?"
Silence fell over again, and I hung my head low, forcing myself to stay silent.
"Hamlet!" A girl called from the back of the room, and I heard the teacher laugh.
"Great job, but no cellphones in class. Especially not to look up answers."
I heard the teacher walk back to the front of the room in a swift motion, and I heard her drop down a book onto her desk.
"Now, open your books to page 582 to find Hamlet."
I opened my book and focused on the page, but I couldn't focus on the words as the teacher began the reading track. Instead, I skipped ahead to the very line that seemed to rack through my brain almost daily. I read the first few words over and over, thinking about Jaden's words.
To be or not to be.
-----
I stood outside of the writing club door, freezing as soon as my hand touched down on the handle.
I looked inside of the small window on the door and recognized Louis' figure at the front of the room. He was talking to Harry, his back toward the door. He hadn't noticed me yet.
I was planning on pulling my hand away from the door knob and running away, telling Ruth I did a lot of writing at writing club, but before I could even make a move, Harry's eyes drifted over to me, and he smiled a welcoming smile.
I lowered my head instantly, but I turned the doorknob nonetheless. I pushed the door open, hearing the creaking sound it created, and I stepped into the room, feeling both Harry and Louis' eyes on me. My face burned hot at the thought of Louis, and I turned to go to my seat, but Harry spoke up.
"Welcome back, Liam. Do you think you'll be sharing any of your writing with us today?" Harry wondered, but I quickly shook my head.
"No."
"Well, that's alright. Not everything we write has to be written for others. It's nice to keep some pieces personal every now and then." I could hear the carefree smile in Harry's voice, but I only offered a nod before I rushed to the back of the room and sat down, waiting patiently for the other members to come into the room. Meanwhile, I listened in on Louis and Harry's conversation.
"So, I would hold it at my house, but I just can't this time. I know it's our typical spot, but the meeting is very important for my dad. He doesn't want any distractions, and with my mum watching the twins all day, it'd just be too much," Louis listed off, voice deeply apologetic and a bit stressed. I glanced up a bit to see Harry place a reassuring hand on Louis' shoulder.
"Lou, it's alright. We can find another place to hold the get together. It'll just be for this month. It's no big deal," Harry responded, smiling widely at Louis, but Louis' frown only deepened.
"I just... you know I would if I could. It's always at my house. I just feel like I'm letting everyone down."
I averted my eyes from the vulnerable moment, deciding not to listen to something that seemed so personal. I tuned their words out easily, and I pulled out my writing composition book. I uncapped a pen and turned to a blank page. And I began to write.
The raven walks on the wire so delicately.
It's feet hang on to the cord,
keeping perfect balance.
I, too, desired to maintain balance.
I climbed onto the wire and took my
first step
out.
I wobbled, and I righted.
I walked, focusing straight ahead.
But, like the raven, something shiny caught my eye.
And when I looked,
I fell.
The poem was random, and I didn't understand why I wrote it. I didn't know why I thought of it, but it seemed written in a rush on the pages.
I looked up when I heard Harry speak in a louder voice, and I realized that the room was full of all of the members of the writing club now. How did I miss all of the noise they must've made?
I focused in on the meeting, hearing the poems and writings of those who decided to share, and then Harry stood up at the front to announce the poetry night. He urged everyone to participate, and I knew they probably would. Everyone seemed truly dedicated to writing and had a passion for it.
I zoned out, glancing over at Louis to see him already staring at me. He offered a soft smile, but I quickly turned away. I turned the page again in my notebook and began writing down random words and thoughts. It all seemes to spill out of me until the page was full of the black ink of my pen.
After filling up three more pages in the same way, it was finally time to head home. I packed up my bag like everyone else, and I froze in a tense manner as Harry called my name. I felt a pause in the room, everyone freezing at the same time. Like a collective gasp.
It only lasted a few seconds before the same bustling noises returned. I heard everyone talking to one another as they made their way out of the door, and I walked with my head down all the way to where Harry stood at the front of the room.
I walked up to him and glanced up just enough to see his feet. He was wearing a pair of worn out, brown boots.
"I figure you heard my conversation with Louis earlier," He began, and I shook my head.
"Um, no. I've gotten pretty good at tuning people out when I need to. It was none of my business."
"Oh, well, every month the writing club has a sort of get-together. It's a day completely free of writing where we really just hang out and get to know one another better. I think you'll make great friends here."
Harry sounded rather cheerful and optimistic as he spoke.
"We usually have it at Louis' house, but he can't hold it this year. So, I was sort of wondering if you'd like to host this time? It'd be the perfect way to get to know everyone in a familiar and safe environment."
Again, I was shaking my head as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
"I- I can't do that. I can't," I rejected, taking a step back from Harry, but he remained in his spot. His feet only moved so that he could lean back against the desk he was standing in front of.
"I understand. Lots of us have parents who won't tolerate a small mass of people in their house on a Saturday. I'll just ask my mum if she needs the house for anything this weekend. It was worth a shot to ask you," Harry laughed out.
"I mean... I- I could do it, but I... I can't," I blurted out. My eyes widened a bit as I realized just how much I was sharing with Harry.
There was a silence that lingered over us for a moment, and I refused to look up at Harry to see his reaction.
"Liam, have you ever read the poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay'?"
"Um, yeah. Robert Frost," I commented, and Harry hummed in satisfaction.
"Do you know what he's saying in that poem?"
I nodded my head and said, "Nothing beautiful lasts forever. Nothing ever stays young or the same. Everything changes. Nothing is ever perfect."
"Nothing lasts forever," Harry commented, pushing off of the desk he was leaning on and stepping closer to me. I felt him put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped a bit at the motion before calming myself down.
"'Nothing gold can stay.' That's what he says. Maybe he's talking about pure, perfect, pretty things, but in general, he's saying nothing lasts forever. Nothing at all."
"Okay," I said, pulling away from his words and wondering why he bothered to tell me that. He, himself, was like a book of poetry. He seemed so cryptic at times. "I have to go now. My sister's probably waiting for me. Sorry I couldn't help."
I pulled away from Harry and turned to walk to the door. As I pushed it open, I heard Harry's voice one last time.
"See you tomorrow, Liam."
I didn't have to turn to know that he was waving and smiling. I didn't offer either action back. I simply pushed the door open and left the room, rushing out of the school and into Ruth's awaiting car.
"Woah. Someone's in a rush. What happened? Do I have to hurt someone?" Ruth demanded, looking at me with a stern expression on her face.
"What? No," I insisted. "Nothing happened."
"But you better tell me if something ever does happen. Especially if it's Jaden. I'll punch his little punk face into a pulp," Ruth threatened in a teasing manner before she pulled away from the school and began driving down the street.
I sat quietly, not really in the mood to talk anymore. I felt like I've talked more than ever in one day than in these past four years.
"So, dad's getting off late today. I was thinking we could do something fun. Maybe a movie? What do you say?" Rith questioned, and I shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes!" She declared, and we tuened down the road to the movie theatre as I sank deeper into my seat.
And the only thought that crossed my mind was that, on the bright side, the room would be dark there. Nobody would see my face if I sat in the back.
And somehow, that made me dread going even more.