A Girl Like Lilac

by Victoria L. James

  The only boy I trust, I thought to myself.

  His genuine smile grew to match my fake one, and his shoulders relaxed.

  It took me ten seconds to be by his side.

  “Sorry I took so long,” I offered, looking down on him.

  “That's okay,” he lied. I knew it was a lie. His eyes were too tight, and his smile was struggling to stay in place.

  “There's something about girls’ bathrooms. Women you don't like can walk in there, and suddenly you're the best of friends, talking about boys, lipsticks, and dresses.”

  I glanced at Cheryl and tried not to shuffle too much as I felt the white lies scratch at my throat.

  “Yeah. Bad witches become your best bitches,” Cheryl chirped.

  “Right?” I chuckled.

  “You've been crying,” Toby said calmly like it was the most natural observation he'd ever made.

  My attention fell back to him immediately, my smile disappearing.

  “And you have red marks on your arm.” Toby tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes, his smile fading, but his face somehow light.

  Waiting.

  Expectant.

  “Was it Joel?” he asked, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets as far as he could. My eyes fell to them, and I could see the curling of his fists beneath the strained material.

  “No.”

  Toby’s eyes never strayed from mine. Not once.

  “I don't believe you, Lilac.”

  “Can we go?” It was the only thing I could think to say.

  “No,” he answered calmly, shaking his head. “We can't.”

  “Toby…”

  His eyes drifted to Cheryl, pinning her in place with his silent accusations.

  Cheryl began to shuffle around on her feet. It was the first time I’d ever seen her so uncomfortable.

  “Nothing happened?” he asked us both quietly.

  We shook our heads and kept our mouths closed.

  “Okay then, let’s dance.” Toby rose to his feet and held his hand out for me to take.

  My eyes flickered between him and Cheryl a few times before I saw my best friend take a step back, raise her hands and shake her head again.

  “You two go for it. I’m not in the mood,” Cheryl said.

  “Toby, I-—” didn't get chance to finish my excuse. In a heartbeat, he’d stepped forward, wrapped one arm around my waist and was holding my hand in his.

  “You're at prom. The only prom you're ever going to get. You're beautiful. The most beautiful girl in this room. You're going to dance a slow dance with a boy you can trust and not run out of that door because you’re frightened.”

  I looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “Either dance with me, Lilac, or let me go kill him.”

  He pulled me to his body gently, his fingers curling around my hand like he was scared to let me go.

  “Dancing it is,” I whispered.

  A song I knew well started to play. Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse filled the room, making me melt against his chest, resting my head there. I fit him. He curled around me like he’d lay his life on the line to protect me.

  It was intense. It made me want to cry tears of both joy and fear against his crisp white shirt and mark him. Toby smelled like safety to me. He felt like it, too.

  I didn't pay much attention to the way most kids around us left the dance floor as soon as that song came on. I didn't pay much attention to the fact that Toby’s breaths were getting heavier while mine were calming, my body at peace in his care. I didn't bat an eyelid when Toby started to sing the lyrics to the song, or how I soon joined him, my voice a little louder than his. Singing was one of my favourite things to do. It made the world seem like the musical I’d always dreamed it could be.

  “You don't have to lie to me, you know,” he eventually muttered, his lips resting on the top of my head.

  His lips.

  His lips.

  His lips.

  It was the closest they'd ever been, and we had the whole of our year group watching us. Two weird souls wrapped in silver and singing lyrics no one else seemed to love.

  His lips.

  I blew out a breath and smiled against him.

  “You've just threatened to kill him,” I said quietly. “I think it's clear that lying to you at this point is my only option. I can't watch you get arrested again.”

  “I’d handle it.”

  “I wouldn't.”

  His hands tightened around me. “What did he do to you?”

  “He…” I stopped, sighing again before I lifted my head from his chest and looked up into his eyes. Toby Hunter was so handsome it was blinding. I wanted to capture every speck of colour in his eyes with my camera. I wanted to take a picture every day and watch how they changed while he grew over the years. I wanted to remember him like this forever—for always—before he went out there and discovered life.

  I was already beginning to understand how Aunt Coral spoke so fondly of love yet always looked in pain. I felt the conflicting emotions as I danced with the fifteen-year-old boy of my daydreams. Of every girl’s dreams.

  “Does it matter?” I said with a weak smile.

  Toby’s eyes searched mine. Would his apparent need to protect me win, or would he let the moment we were in have the victory?

  I hoped it was the latter.

  My hopes and dreams came true as he carefully, and oh-so-slowly, lowered his lips to mine and kissed me.

  It was still, no movement at first as we let the tingling ripple over our skin and closed our eyes. I felt Toby breathe out through his nose before he began to move his lips against mine. I wasn't sure if he’d ever kissed a girl before, but I was grateful if he was offering the gift of being my first proper kiss.

  I couldn't imagine it ever being as nice with anyone else.

  Cheryl’s cheering from the side of the dance floor had us smiling against each other’s lips before he eventually pulled back and looked down at me again.

  “I won't let him hurt you,” he said quietly.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “A young girl once told me to hunt for magic. I guess I found it in her. Now I'd do anything to protect it.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “I’m almost certain it's going to be deadly.”

  SEVEN

  Toby

  Raging emotions tore through the fibres of my muscles, desperate to break free. My bones were creaking as I fought to keep them in place. My blood was flowing violently to all the areas it needed to be. My fists throbbed.

  It wasn’t an experience I enjoyed.

  It felt like I was lying to her. Pretending as I held her and looked calm on the outside, making her feel safe in my arms when the truth was that not even I trusted the arms that were holding her.

  Rage.

  It was taking over.

  That’s why I had to kiss her. It was the only thing to calm me. I wanted to kiss her again.

  She danced in my arms with her head against my chest, so I pressed my lips to her hair and held them there, enjoying the soft sigh that escaped her, warming my shirt.

  When I looked up, Joel was standing on the edges of the dance floor staring at me, smirking. His arms were folded across his chest, his three best mates flanking him on either side. He didn’t have to say a single word. His body language said it all.

  I spun Lilac in a different direction, not wanting to let him disturb the high school heaven I was currently dancing in.

  Eventually, the night ended.

  “We survived prom,” Lilac whispered as she looked up at me when the bright lights came on.

  I ran my thumbs under her eyes where her mascara had run ever so slightly, then I cupped her cheeks and held her face in the palms of my hands.

  “And I enjoyed it,” I smiled. “Who’d have thought it?”

  “Me, too.” She beamed back.

  “You sure?”

  “Surer than sure.”

&
nbsp; I sighed heavily and felt the muscles in my jaw twitch. “Time to get you home.”

  “My mum is coming to pick us up. She should be here any minute now.”

  I sighed again. Heavier this time. A feeling of nausea tumbling around in my stomach and a burning sensation pushing against my chest. “Yeah.”

  Lilac’s smile faded. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I just…”

  Her hands reached up to my wrists before she slowly began to peel my fingers away from her face. “Just what?”

  “I think I’m going to walk home.”

  “Why?”

  I forced a smile to my face. “Because I’ve just spent the most incredible evening with the most incredible girl, and I don’t want it to be over yet. And I know as soon as I push through that front door at home, it’ll be done. So, I’m going to take myself around the streets for ten minutes, shove my hands in my pockets, and I’m going to relive it all before I go to sleep tonight. That too cheesy for a boy like me?”

  Lilac’s lips twitched, and her cheeks lit up like a forest fire. “Swoony. Not cheesy. Will you be safe?”

  “I’m always safe.”

  She looked down at the floor for a moment before she lifted her chin, rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine again. I dug my fingers into her waist, squeezed her hard, and I kissed Lilac Clarke like it was both the first and the last time I ever would. My tongue slipped between her lips, coaxing a small moan of surprise from her before I eventually remembered to breathe and carefully pulled away.

  She stumbled, falling farther into me before she blinked furiously and took a moment to collect herself.

  “Christ, Toby,” she muttered, staring at my chest.

  “Goodnight, Lilac.”

  We parted ways silently. I walked her to her car. I waved to her mum, Violet. I watched them set off down the road, and I laughed when Lilac twisted around in the back seat and smiled at me through the window.

  I could feel the wolves’ eyes in the shadows watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce. I refused to look back. Instead, I said my goodbyes to Cheryl and Chris as they left, too, and then I began to walk the quiet, usually uneventful streets of Southwold as slowly as I could. I did what I told Lilac I was going to do. I pushed my hands into my trouser pockets. I kicked a few stones along the way. I remembered the dream-like night she’d given me.

  And I waited.

  They arrived. All four of them. Already out of breath as their adrenaline pumped hard through their veins and their blood-thirsty need for revenge made them feel seven-feet tall.

  “Hey, pencil dick,” Joel ground out. His voice sounded much rougher and thicker than usual, ready for a war if nothing else.

  With my hands still in my pockets, I spun on my heels and stared at Joel as his three football-playing beefcake mates fell into line.

  “Joel.” I nodded.

  His cocky smirk faded as he watched me and waited for my fear to shine. He’d be waiting a long fucking time. I wasn’t scared. Not even a little bit. I was resigned. Ready. It would all be okay in the end. They wanted a power trip, not to kill me. I guess if someone had stolen Lilac Clarke from my hands, I’d probably want the same thing, too.

  “You know, little gay boys shouldn’t be out walking the dark streets on their own at night.”

  “That an official police line your daddy told you?” I raised a brow.

  “I’d keep your mouth closed and your legs moving if I were you.”

  “If you were me, you’d know I’m not scared of your shit.”

  He frowned in confusion before he pushed his shoulders back and took a step forward. “You’re not going to run?”

  “Why would I run?”

  “Because…” he started, stopping just a few inches away from my face. “We’re going to fuck you up, little hero.”

  “Sounds exhausting.”

  His fist snapped out to jab my shoulder and push me off balance. It worked. I took four steps backwards before I corrected myself and sighed again.

  Joel’s gaze went down to the bunched-up fists still tucked inside my trouser pockets.

  The inferno was rising. The blood was swimming faster.

  The Hulk inside of me was bashing on my chest to be set free.

  But the boy behind the curtain—the timid one—wanted to let Joel have his way and get on with it. The beast beneath my skin scared me too much, and I began to wonder if this was how my mother felt every day. Was it a constant battle of being good versus being bad? Was it a case of suppressing what was inside every single day, only Bipolar meant you couldn’t always do that? Sometimes you had to let the devil within out to play.

  Was I just like her, after all?

  The thought turned my anger even angrier. It was frustration at myself, worry at my bloodline, anxiety over my goddamn DNA, and sorrow that I could end up sad and confused like her.

  Joel’s fist snapped out again, pushing my other shoulder this time, sending me back another few steps.

  Then again, and again, until I had no choice but to pull my hands out of my pockets to keep my balance. The moment the fresh air hit the strained skin over those clenched fists, it was like my body learned how to breathe again.

  “Fucking fight, arsehole,” Joel growled, his friends all copying his war cry.

  My jaw clenched, wound so tight it was ready to shatter.

  “Fight for what, Joel?”

  “For her.”

  “Rejection cut that deep?” I raised a brow.

  “Rejection?” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t touch her with a borrowed dick now. I’m not fighting you because I still want her. I’m fighting you because I want you to know that when I decide something is going to be mine, it’s going to be mine. And that night I wanted her, and you took that away. You think I was going to forget? You think I was going to let you off? You think I was going to let you be the white knight and make me out to be the fucking villain? A fool?”

  “That ego still sounds bruised as fuck.” I smirked, curling my fists tighter together.

  “Yeah, well, in about three minutes, every part of your weak little body is going to be bruised, Hunter.”

  “Scratch me up, princess.”

  He charged forward like a clumsy ogre, all swinging and no setting of his feet at first, which allowed me to dodge him and get a hard punch straight to his gut. The hollow sound of it rang out almost as loud as his agony did. I wasted no time in spinning around behind him, jumping into the air and smashing my foot straight into the backs of his knees until he was a crumbling pile of crap beneath me. Two moves. That’s all it had taken to put him down. I don’t know where or when I’d learned how to do that. I stared down at him, breathless, surprised, and ready for more.

  Whatever happened now, I’d done my bit. One on one, Joel couldn’t take me.

  Four on one, however, proved to be a different story.

  I managed to bounce on the balls of my feet for just two seconds before the other three charged at me. Those guys didn’t miss. I remained standing for a good minute before one of them managed to punch me straight in the throat and temporarily cut off my air supply. The pain winded me and knocked me to the ground like someone had punctured my neck. I heard Joel muttering a lot of revenge talk in my ear as I lay there grunting, accepting the blows of his fists while the other three kicked the crap out of me. Thighs. Gut. Chest. Hands. Everywhere.

  It lasted forever in my head. The reality was probably only a few minutes before the headlights of a car approaching had them pushing each other off me and scurrying away.

  The world blurred as I rolled around on my side and curled into a foetal position. Something felt very wrong by my ribs, and my stomach was experiencing stabbing pains that seemed to push straight down into my groin. I couldn’t feel much of anything when the car came to a stop somewhere around me.

  Those two yellow headlights somehow pinned me in place and gave me a focal point t
o cling to.

  I heard a woman calling out.

  I heard her whisper my name like she knew me.

  I heard a siren soon after—the bright blue flashing disturbing the yellow lights I didn’t want to say goodbye to.

  I did say goodbye to them soon enough. I said goodbye to the noise, the light, the pain, and all my breaths as I closed my already-swollen eyes and smiled a sad smile to myself.

  I’d danced with Lilac Clarke that night.

  This wasn’t so bad.

  When I came around sometime later, I was being whisked into the hospital, a warm hand stroking my swollen one over and over. I tried to sit up, but something held me down.

  “No, no,” said a warm, feminine voice. “No moving.”

  She sounded familiar.

  I allowed myself to fall back into the pillow and close my eyes again.

  The voices around me grew louder and louder, but I didn’t understand any of it. A woman spoke, and then someone who identified herself as a nurse told her to calm down. Two men arrived on the scene, both doctors who were fussing around me, sticking blood pressure bandages around my arms while the familiar sounding voice kept telling them to make sure I was okay.

  At some point, I must have checked out of reality.

  Sometime later, I woke, trying desperately to open both of my eyes, which felt like they had not only tripled in size but had been glued together, too.

  I groaned. Sleepy. Unsure. It felt like blood and sick had dried up in my throat so that all I could taste was shit.

  Blinking as much as my bust-up eyes would allow me to, I let my lips part, only to feel more warm blood and tenderness there, too.

  Sitting on a hospital bed, hidden behind more curtains with the bright lights above me giving me an instant migraine, I tried to figure out who I should call for.

  That warm, familiar hand rested on mine again.

  When I glanced at her through my blurry eyes, I saw Violet Clarke. Lilac’s mother. Her smile was sad but serene, and I swear, she glowed just as much as her daughter did. Her reddish hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail, and her eyes reminded me of Lilac’s right after she’d been crying at the prom.