Forgive Me

by Kateri Stanley

  “She’s got the goth look today,” Jace commented. “How the hell is she not sweating in that jacket?”

  “I heard she knocked out Colin Friers in the park. They were arguing over a pack of cigarettes,” Zippo said.

  Jace scoffed. “Just because it’s said, doesn’t mean it’s true. People lie, Zip.”

  “Well I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her. She’s pretty strong for a girl.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jace asked.

  “Well, guys are tougher than girls.”

  “Not Chyna though! She’d pop your head like a grape.”

  Stripe ignored them as they bickered, she was glued to the original topic. Cameron was dressed in a black leather jacket, tight black pants, a Henley shirt and chequered sneakers. Her dark hair was shaggy, Stripe wondered if a drunken hairstylist had attacked her locks with a hatchet instead of scissors. It hung over her slender nose, covering her strong jawline, which Zippo had said was ‘too thick for a chick’.

  There were constant rumours flying around about the notorious Miss Storms; that she belonged to a cult which practiced animal sacrifice, that she snuffed cocaine in the toilets and she’d been in a house fire which was why she never wore short sleeved shirts.

  Smoke and mirrors, Stripe thought. Everyone has rumours.

  Cameron locked eyes with Stripe as she made her way to the back of the gym, probably going for a smoke. There was something about her stare that unnerved Stripe. It was powerful and threatening, as if she knew she’d been watching her. Stripe could’ve been overthinking it. Everyone made assumptions, but this particular one had been bothering her for quite a while.

  Stripe went to her locker after English class and pulled out her books. The corridor was hectic. Students sometimes brushed each other to get to their destination. Her shoulders quivered when she saw Cameron a couple of lockers up the way. Stripe tried to act busy as Cameron slammed her locker shut.

  “I like your jacket,” Stripe said.

  “Excuse me?” Cameron stopped, looking at her.

  “I said, I like your jacket.”

  Cameron glanced at her outfit, smirking as she gave her a once over inspection. “Thanks. Nice…pants.”

  Stripe’s heart froze. She’s mocking me. She turned, feeling like a complete idiot.

  Cameron’s warm skin pressed against her back. Keeping still, Stripe waited for her to move along, then she heard a massive intake of breath. Cold air brushed the back of Stripe’s neck and the warmth of Cameron disappeared.

  “You’ve got to be joking! Seriously? She smelled you?” Jace exclaimed as soon as Stripe had finished her story.

  “I think that’s what happened,” she replied nervously, clutching her books to her chest.

  “Well, she is a freak and… I’ve heard she’s gay too. Maybe she has a thing for you?”

  Stripe wanted to laugh right in her best friend’s face. “Not with the dagger eyes of death she sends me. What should I do, Jace?”

  “If you want it to stop, maybe you should speak to her.”

  “Are you insane? She’ll probably hit me!”

  “Then quit thinking about it.”

  Soon enough, Stripe was walking to the back of the gym, trying to keep a quiet dignity about herself. It wasn’t working. Why did I let Jace inside my head? Why did I listen? I must be crazy. I should forget about this. Yes, that’s a really good, healthy idea. Forget about it. Yes, forget about it and go to the library and study.

  She heard loud yells then she caught sight of Cameron and her sheepish followers. Cameron was smoking a cigarette, laughing along with her group. She was sitting on the ledge, her lanky legs hanging off the edge. Her friends switched in unison when Stripe approached cautiously. She felt like a timid zebra tiptoeing past a herd of stirring hungry lions.

  “What do you want, Susan?” Christopher Maxwell asked, blowing smoke into Stripe’s eyes.

  Stripe coughed, waving it out of her face. “Enough with the tough talk, Christopher. It doesn’t suit you. I just want to have a quick word with Cameron.”

  Every head turned like a corkscrew to gape at their leader.

  Cameron smirked, leaping from the ledge. “What about?”

  Her friends started to giggle. Cameron sure had a spring to her step. Maybe it’s the cocaine. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”

  “Yeah okay,” Cameron uttered, stomping around the corner.

  Stripe escaped from her friends, she heard them laughing, mocking the way she spoke and walked. The phrases, stoo-pid, frid-ged and ug-lee were kindly used.

  Cameron led her to the bike shelter and she leaned up against the wood crossing her arms. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  Stripe stepped towards her, twiddling her fingers.

  Cameron sparked up one of her cigarettes, tipping the packet. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. I know we’ve not talked much but-”

  “We don’t talk at all,” Cameron said.

  “Actually, we have. You asked me for a pencil in Math a few weeks ago.”

  “Did I?” Cameron frowned. “Funny. I don’t remember. Anyway, get on with what you were gonna say.”

  “I..I was wondering, as this has been bothering me for a while. Umm, are you...” Stripe stumbled over her words. “Are you... a lesbian?”

  Cameron breathed in the smoke and blew it out, she didn’t look fazed or insulted. “What’s it to you? Are you a lesbian?”

  “Of course, I’m not,” Stripe muttered. “I mean, if you are, there’s nothing wrong with it, but I’m just here to tell you...that I don’t swing that way, and I want you to stop.”

  “Excuse me? Stop what exactly?”

  “You’re always looking at me and today you brushed up against me and smelt my hair! It freaks me out and I just want you to quit it!”

  “I was getting something from my locker. I wasn’t fucking smelling you! What the fuck is your problem?”

  “I think you’re the one with the problem, not me.”

  “Wrong, sweetie.” Cameron laughed, blowing out the final thread of smoke. “You came interrogating me, remember?”

  “Don’t sweet talk me!”

  “Conversation’s over,” Cameron muttered.

  She pushed past Stripe, making sure to give her a bullying nudge to her shoulder before she disappeared round the corner.

  The bell chimed at the end of the day and Stripe walked out towards the gate where Doug, Zippo and Jace were waiting for her.

  “So, how did it go with the weirdo?” Zippo asked.

  “Terribly,” Stripe murmured, wanting to eat her body weight in cookie dough. She turned and watched the very person they were talking about stalk along the other side of the road. Cameron was with her friends; they laughed when they looked at Stripe, their smiles growing wider every second.

  “She’s such a bitch,” Stripe hissed. I wanna wipe their smiles off their smug spotty fucking faces.

  Cameron must have read her words and stuck her middle finger up. Then she mouthed something:

  Fuck.

  You.

  Cameron winked at Stripe and kissed her middle finger, a merry farewell.

  Zippo took notice, stepping forward. Doug grabbed his elbow. “Don’t bother, buddy. She’s not worth it.”

  Stripe felt stupid and embarrassed. She’d be the laughing stock of school. Christopher, Leon and Travis were like hyenas with gossip. They had the best connections with the popular people and when it came to creating a lie, they sunk their teeth in deep and munched till there was only bones left. She couldn’t fathom what made her confront Cameron. She wasn’t normally a person who broke the rules but something had driven her to do it.

  Chapter Five

  The police on duty wanted to make sure they scoped the crime scene before the press picked up the scent. They were like a dog with a bone, if they saw food and it was flying, they’d come running. Especially in this case.

  Pamela Sevigny
pushed the handkerchief over her nose as she ducked under the tape laced around the house. She’d got the call on her drive. When she heard the details, she ditched her coffee run and raced to the location. The forensic staff in their white faceless suits came scurrying up and down the stairs like army ants.

  Not again, she thought.

  The body lay in the bed, and the smell of blood and bodily fluids hit her senses. The handkerchief wasn’t doing much good. No matter how many dead or injured bodies she’d seen, the stench was something she never grew accustomed to. When she saw her first corpse, she’d spewed her lunch down her uniform. They’d found a homeless man who’d died in a forgotten bicycle shelter. Citizens living nearby complained about a pungent repulsive smell, his body had been rotting in the warm temperature for weeks. When a person or an animal dies, all bodily fluids release from their exits. To Pamela, it was a memorable time. A crucial part of a police officer’s training. More challenging than firearm and self-defence classes.

  The victim’s eyes were alight in terror. His throat had been hacked open; there wasn’t a dry blotch left on the quilt.

  “What happened?” Pam asked the detective; her voice slightly muffled from the mouth-covering.

  “We have here a Mr Gerald Blair, killed in his sleep,” her boss replied, he didn’t have anything to shield himself from the smell. “I’ve looked through his belongings, nothing’s been stolen. He’s, he was divorced, worked in the pharmaceutical industry, a father of one. A normal, nine till five hard working guy it seems. He must have woken up while he was being torn apart. Poor bastard.”

  “Do you think it’s the Night Scrawler?”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  “Why not? He’s been killed in the same way the previous victims were murdered, axed to death in their beds. I think it’s a suitable nickname, in fact it’s perfect. Creeping into people’s bedrooms late at night while they slept, it’s something out of a horror movie. And how do you know it’s a him? This could be the actions of a woman.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Women have killed people too, Rick. Look at Aileen Wuornos.”

  “Her actions are debatable. She said she killed those men out of self-defence because they raped her.”

  “Yeah, and then she changed her story and said she killed them in cold blood. She was the product of an abusive childhood; she was mentally ill.”

  “She changed her plea because she was tired of being on death row for so many years. God forbid if I was in that situation, I’d want to break the agenda too.”

  Pamela’s boss constantly tried to lighten the mood even in the gruesome face of death, he wasn’t the most politically correct person either. Cracking up jokes and crude one liners was a handy defence mechanism in this profession, but it only stretched so far.

  Above Gerald’s head, the letters were angry and dripping, a true honest expression of violence. Blood wasn’t an ideal substance to paint in, but Pamela got the message loud and clear:

  LIAR

  Chapter Six

  Netball. The game of nightmares and severe injuries.

  Stripe watched in terror as the girls bounced the ball, others grasped it with agility, and it came careening towards her. Stripe caught it, someone bashed into her, knocking her sideways. When she dropped the ball, it was swiped from her hands. She looked up and saw Cameron smiling before skipping off to pound it into the net. Stripe tried her best to shrug it off and repositioned herself ready for another game.

  The ball was thrown up again and competitive hands batted it to the floor. Stripe zoomed forwards as Cameron lynched it from the other girls. She kept on her tail and sped in front of her. Cameron jumped to score and Stripe pushed forwards, swotting the ball free. Cameron lost her footing, and glared at Stripe, who smiled back.

  Cameron retrieved the ball and watched as Stripe strutted back to her position. She aimed precisely and it bounced off the top of Stripe’s head. It didn’t hurt at first, it took Stripe a few moments to process it and a sharp pain dug into the top of her skull. Then she heard the rise of giggles from the other girls. Right, now I’m really pissed.

  Stripe turned quick on her heel, throwing all of her weight at Cameron. They both crashed to the floor and she began to smack Cameron.

  “Fucking hell, Stripe!” Jace yelled, pulling at the arms of her best friend.

  “Language, Miss Patterson!” Coach Lucy shouted. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Fucking bitch!” Stripe hissed, the palms of her hands aching as they crunched against her opponent’s face.

  Lucy pulled Cameron out from under the scuffle, Stripe fell onto her backside. “Susan, go to my office this instant. Cameron, go to the changing rooms and wait for me there.”

  “But Miss-” Cameron wiped her mouth, glaring at Stripe. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, you psycho!” She lunged, thankfully some of the other girls in the class managed to restrain her.

  “Go to the changing rooms now,” Lucy ordered.

  Cameron stalked off, shaking the arms that were holding her. Stripe felt the overwhelming sensation of embarrassment. Every judgemental eye was peeping and she wanted the ground to swallow her up. What on earth had got into her to react so savagely?

  Coach Lucy went ballistic in the office, Stripe hadn’t seen her angry before. Getting into a punch up was not worth the stress of being on a teacher’s blacklist. But Cameron had been asking for it. She aimed the ball purposely at her head, to upset her. Stripe was defending herself, anybody in the same predicament would’ve done the same.

  After the avalanche of shouting, Stripe was told to change and go to the principal’s office. A place she'd never been to, she’d tut when she saw the other kids sitting outside with their heads stooped in shame. I’m one of them now. On the other side of the barbed wire fence.

  She felt sick as she saw Cameron waiting outside there too. “Thanks for giving me a swollen lip,” she uttered poisonously.

  “You started it.”

  Principal Charlotte opened the door to her office. She wore a disguise of pure dissatisfaction. She didn’t need words; her expression could stop anyone in their tracks.

  “Miss Storms, Miss McLachlan, come inside,” she ordered sternly.

  Stripe wanted to cry when she saw her mother sitting in front of Charlotte’s desk. Coach Lucy was also in the office standing by the window with her arms crossed.

  Charlotte indicated to the girls to sit and they did. Stripe could feel her mother's gaze burning into her skull. Fuck, I’m dead meat.

  “Now, I’ve spoken to both of your parents and informed them of what happened earlier today. I am thoroughly disappointed in both of you.” Charlotte stared at Stripe and Cameron. “You are brilliant students and this happens! You’re graduating next year!”

  “I understand,” Stripe whispered. “I’m really sorry, Principal. It won’t happen again.”

  “I hope you mean it, Miss McLachlan.”

  “I do.”

  “My daughter never gets into fights, Principal Charlotte,” Beverley McLachlan said with passion and a sliver of awkwardness.

  “Neither does my daughter,” Cameron’s mother replied coldly.

  Oh puh-lease, Stripe wanted to say. She’s always getting into trouble. She never does her fighting in school hours so this shit doesn’t happen. Shows how much you know.

  “Regardless, there have to be rules and punishments laid out,” Charlotte said.

  Stripe got herself ready for the worst; she was trying her hardest not to cry.

  “What do you think, Coach Lucy? What should Susan’s detention consist of?”

  Lucy leaned in on the debate. “Cameron threw the ball at her head before the fight. I saw her do it. Cameron deserves to be punished just as much as Susan.”

  Stripe saw Cameron attempting to protest but was coaxed quietly by her mother. She felt a wash of relief and utter praise for Lucy, but within a couple of seconds, her worry seeped back makin
g her want to cry all over again.

  “From the sounds of it, you both need to be punished.” Charlotte ruffled the papers in front of her. “Cameron, I don't appreciate your act of smugness and Susan, you should know better. A whole week of cleaning the gym after school.”

  Shit, I was hoping it would be writing the ‘I must nots.’ Why do we need to clean? Doesn’t the janitor do that? Another thought slithered into Stripe’s head. It’s so you can suffer.

  “Starting from today.”

  Double shit.

  Charlotte smiled suddenly. “And you will both do it…together.”

  “You two need to learn about the importance of team work,” Lucy added.

  “But Principal-”

  “No buts. I’ve made up my mind. You can leave now. Go back to class,” Charlotte said. “Mrs Storms, Mrs McLachlan you’ll need to stay behind a little longer as there is some paper work to complete. Get out, girls.”

  Her authoritative voice made them stand up and Stripe was out of the door before Cameron. She heard her say something, probably some snarky comment but she was too distressed to even consider them. She reached the toilets as the tears began to fall until she heard the deafening, executing sound of the bell.

  Stripe arrived at the gym after school. Cameron was already there wearing a mask of pure disdain.

  “Right, it’s cleaning time.” Coach Lucy clapped her hands, indicating to the cupboard. “Wipes and cleaning products are in there. I want this floor to be spotless. Have fun and learn from this.”

  “Like the fuck I will,” Cameron muttered after the coach left the gym.

  Instead of wanting to scream, Stripe marched to the cupboard and got the cleaning gear. She didn’t know where or how to start, so she began scrubbing the floor, wiping back and forth. She was in detention, there was no going back now. This was her punishment. She had to experience it.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” Cameron said.