8: Chiseling For The Truth

"And so that's..." I was vaguely aware of the fact that the history teacher was droning on about some sort of revolution or something, but I was doing the absolute worst job on the planet of paying attention.

There was a lot on my mind, and I felt like I was constantly playing a game of jenga with it all. Every time I addressed one of the subjects of distress in my mind, I pulled a block from the tower. The further along I went, the more unstable my mental health became. Eventually, I was probably going to have a breakdown, but I still managed to convince myself that the tower would remain intact.

I did end up trying to cover the bruise on my neck, because I genuinely had no idea how to explain it to anyone. But after rummaging through my mom's belongings and turning up without any sort of makeup that seemed to be for covering things up — because I really had no idea what I was even looking for — I was then forced to try to find something within my very limited wardrobe that could cover it.

Once more, it seemed to be in vain.

So all I could do was wear the biggest sweatshirt I owned, with the tightest crew neck underneath, and hope that it did something to conceal the ugly mark. Which was a sorry attempt, because my mom noticed it almost instantly.

She grabbed the collar of my shirt and forced my chin up so that she could get a good look. I knew that I was about to stare death in the eyes again when she figured out that it was a bruise. Which wasn't far from the truth, because she did immediately bombard me with questions and yell for my dad to come see it too.

My parents were different people with very different responses. My mom was beyond worried, begging to know how that happened to me. I just told her it was an accident, and nothing more. Of course, she still wanted to know the full story. I wouldn't give her much to work with, and my dad wasn't trying very hard to find the answer. He didn't seem to care a whole lot, only telling me to be more careful.

That was tolerable, because at least my mom was forced to eventually let it go.

It was a lot harder to explain the whole thing to Millie, because she knew who's house I was at on Monday. It meant that there was only really one logical explanation for who could have caused it. And she pieced that together faster than the speed of light.

I did the best I could to calm her down, trying to explain that it wasn't necessarily Sam who did that to me. That it was a part of the thing I couldn't tell her about. She went from trying to process everything on her own, to bombarding me with questions. But I stood my ground, because at least Sam was right about that. If I brought Millie into it, I would never forgive myself. The notion was only made more clear after nearly losing my life.

Eventually, she was able to take in a deep breath and start to cool down a bit, but I still felt like a horrible friend. I knew that what I was doing was for her benefit, but it was still frustrating to watch her stress over me and not even be able to adequately assure her that I was okay.

But I was also aware of the fact that Millie's relationship with virtually everyone in her life was complicated, and the one thing that I always felt like I could provide her with was a decent friendship. Which was a particularly hard kick in the gut to deal with when I wasn't even able to give her that much.

However, I was being a good friend. It just didn't feel like it.

On a slightly different note, there were other reactions I received in response to the mark on my neck. The problem was that people took one look at it, then at Sam, and the rumors began to fly. I wasn't entirely sure what they thought, given how weird it was to have a bruise on my neck of all places. But people noticed the fact that I got into the car with Sam on Monday, and that was enough for them.

The allegations were certainly not quelled by the severity of Sam's own face. It made sense that people would jump to such a conclusion, but it wasn't even close to the truth. I had no reason to fight physically with Sam, and even if I did, I was definitely not skilled enough to accomplish all of that.

That was when the bell suddenly rang, and I realized that I had no idea what happened the entire class period. Great.

It didn't take long for Millie to join my side as we walked down the hallways. "Miss Miles is a real piece of work for assigning all of that."

My footsteps faltered. "Assigning what?"

I was also relieved to hear her name, because that teacher transferred to our school recently and I could never remember her name when I needed to. However, whatever relief I felt was trumped by the realization of what Millie said.

"She handed out a packet that we have to complete as homework by Friday." She furrowed her brow, studying me closely as we approached my locker. I took the opportunity to look at what was in my arms. To my surprise, there was a packet of paper wedged between my history textbook and my notebook.

It was already Wednesday, since I didn't have to go home with Sam the day before. I frowned at the fact that I had more homework to do. Who the hell invented high school anyway?

"Weren't you paying attention?" Millie then asked when I didn't say anything.

I sighed, exchanging my books for my biology ones. "Not really."

"I can see that. Something on your mind?"

"Just the usual." I skirted around the subject, closing my locker and looking at her with the most reassuring smile I could possibly muster up. It wasn't very convincing, but at least I tried.

She nodded vaguely. "Yeah."

Fortunately, we were interrupted before Millie could consider chiseling for the truth some more. A girl was rushing past us as she attempted to catch up to someone else, accidentally bumping into me lightly as she went. Startled, Millie and I both turned our attention towards her.

It turned out to be Jocelyn, who was desperately trying to catch up to a girl I knew but couldn't quite place. Millie huffed from where she was leaning against a locker beside me. "Rude."

But I ignored her, since I was more distracted by the scene that continued to unfold.

Jocelyn caught up to her friend, who I had seen with her plenty of times in the past, grabbing her arm to get her to stop. She appeared to be a bit panicked, her eyes full of concern and her posture stiff. "It was just a joke." She said helplessly.

Her friend looked at her and rolled her eyes. "You ruined my chances."

"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry." It was a bit mind blowing to see that Jocelyn was even capable of emotions other than spitefulness. Or that she could appear so disheveled. Every time I saw her, she was always perfectly put together. Like a siren trying to lure in its prey, eyes sharp and gaze threatening.

"Just leave me alone right now, Joss." The girl turned on her heel, tearing her arm out of her grip as she walked briskly away.

Hopelessly, Jocelyn just stood there. It took a little while before she was finally able to tear her gaze away from where her friend stood. Once she did, her head turned and she just so happened to notice me and Millie staring at her. Instantly, her expression morphed into one of ugly anger. Regardless of how beautiful the school wanted to say she was, Jocelyn's rage was always the most hideous thing about her, and it doubled as the state of being she occupied the most.

"The fuck are you looking at?" She snapped at us, brushing the hair off of her shoulder as she quickly began to rush down the hall.

I looked at Millie. "What the hell did we just watch?"

She seemed just as shocked. "I don't know. I've never seen Jocelyn and Chloe fight before."

"Chloe! That's her name." I exclaimed at the revelation.

"Jesus, Sawyer. You have to get better at remembering people's names." She told me, and we began walking towards biology. "Chloe and Jocelyn are always together, they're like Siamese twins without even being related."

"I know I've seen her with Jocelyn, I just don't pay much attention." I admitted.

"I've noticed." She laughed. "It's kind of your forte."

We fell back into silence as we entered the science room and found our usual seats. To my displeasure, my mind began to wander yet again. That time it was spurred on by the weird display Jocelyn and Chloe put on. Because it caused my thoughts to land upon Jocelyn's love for Sam. And then from there, I was reminded of what happened between the two of us on Monday.

It was hard to ignore the memory, even though I tried my damndest.

But the fact was that Sam kissed me. Twice. He confessed to some sort of crush he had on me all of these years, and even asked me to think about the way I felt about him. And I had no idea what I was supposed to be searching for inside of myself.

No matter what I tried to preoccupy my thoughts with, my brain somehow ended up back onto that subject and how anxious it made me feel. How was it possible that someone I so thoroughly loathed all that time could feel that way about me? Was it possible that I returned the sentiment?

The truth was that I liked the kiss.

That was something I realized the more that I contemplated it. There was something about the way he touched me so gently that left my skin buzzing and my stomach full of butterflies. Which was what people usually described when they talked about how the people they liked made them feel. Above everything else, that freaked me out the most.

Druggies were scary enough, and nearly dying was horrifying as well. But somehow being kissed by the boy I was supposed to hate managed to take the cake. Perhaps something was seriously wrong with me.

As though the universe wanted to further complicate things, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

The teacher only just began lecturing us about some new topic, so I made sure to be careful as I pulled my phone out and glanced down at the screen. I knew the biology teacher was a stickler for phones being out during class.

Druggie Douche:

Do you still need to come to my place today?

I felt like deflating on the spot, because that meant that I needed to make up my mind sooner than I wanted to. It wasn't going to be easy to explain to him all of the different points of conflict within myself, but maybe he would know what I meant. After all, he must have been dealing with feelings like that inside of himself all this time. Right?

Making sure to glance over at the teacher to double check he wouldn't notice, I typed a quick response.

Me:

Yeah.

Just as I was ready to put my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated again. I frowned.

Druggie Douche:

No phones in class! I might have to tell the teacher on you 😌

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. No matter how nice it felt to kiss him back, Sam would always annoy the hell out of me.

Me:

You texted me first.

Druggie Douche:

But the teacher will listen to me over you😏

Not wanting to further his massive ego, I put my phone away and made sure to ignore anything else he tried to send. It occurred to me that Sam often talked to me like that in the past, and it sounded eerily similar to flirting. Was he dropping hints all along? That only made my cheeks warm and my ability to focus on class infinity worse.

What the hell was Sam doing to me?

Whatever it was, it was pissing me off.

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