by Ashley Love
I wonder if the fact that Zane is handsome—God, he's handsome—is making me biased though. Just because someone is pretty on the outside doesn't mean they're pretty on the inside.
But I'm a rational person, and a pretty face doesn't deflect me from the truth. Zane is so much more than a pretty face.
I fall asleep well past midnight, and wake up in the morning to Sophia bursting into my room and yelling that I'm going to be late. I leap out of bed and brush my teeth and I don't even have time for breakfast before I'm running out the door to walk through the woods to school. It's icy cold outside; too cold to be without a sweatshirt.
With a groan I run back into the house and search for the one sweatshirt I own, some hoodie with alligators on it that Dad got for me in Florida. I can't find the sweatshirt and I grumble to myself, opening the coat closet next to the front door and grabbing the first one I see. It's one of my dad's old coats that he never wears anymore—an old tan trench coat that nearly touches the floor when I put it on. It looks ridiculous, but whatever. It's too cold to go without anything, and since when do I not look ridiculous at school? All bruises and crazy hair and shirts from every state like a walking souvenir shop.
Hugging the trench coat around myself and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I grab my backpack and jog towards the woods.
12
Zane savors the feeling of hot smoke rolling down his throat as he takes in a drag of his cigarette. It's just him, Ryker, and Slate at The Docks this morning. Noah and Gordon had complained that it's too cold to stay outside and disappeared into the school shortly after arriving. Slate is chattering about something unimportant that Zane's not really listening to. In fact, he's actually trying not to listen. He hates the sound of Slate's voice, like steam hissing through a straw.
It's Zane who spots Ariel first when she comes walking out of the trees a little ways away and past The Docks, wearing a somewhat ridiculous looking get-up and hugging herself against the cold as she walks towards school. Zane just watches her go as he takes another drag on his smoke. He likes watching Ariel walk. Normally, if one of them saw her passing by, they'd go over and taunt the girl, but it's cold out and she looks like she's freezing and in a hurry, so Zane says nothing. Slate and Ryker are facing the wrong way anyway, so he just pretends he doesn't see her. They'll mess with her later when the chill of the morning has passed.
Ariel stops walking when she's halfway across the parking lot and stoops down to tie her shoe as Zane watches, her adorably ridiculous trench coat pooling around her on the pavement. Ryker stands up from where he's sitting beside Slate on one of the boulders, and Zane almost grabs his arm to stop him from turning around because he knows if Ryker turns around, he's going to see Ariel and they'll want to mess with her. But he doesn't stop Ryker, because why should he? So what if Ariel is cold and in a hurry? Why the fuck should that matter to him?
Ryker starts laughing when he spots her, just as she's standing up from tying her shoe and continues on her way towards school.
"Dude, look at Riley's coat!" Ryker laughs. "Stupid bitch looks like she's wearing a cape."
Slate looks over his shoulder at her and laughs too. Zane forces himself chuckle a little too because his friends are laughing. The coat is kind of funny.
"Watch this," Slate says mischievously, standing up from the boulder and searching the ground for something. "Target practice."
Zane stares as Slate scoops up a medium-sized rock from the ground and turns, gauging how far Ariel is before reeling back and throwing the rock through the air. She isn't that far away really, but it's still an impressive throw.
Zane winces a little as the rock hits her in the back of the head, causing her to duck down and grab her hair, uttering a pained yelp. Slate whoops and bursts out laughing, high-fiving Ryker, who is busy searching for a rock of his own to throw. Zane drops the butt of his cigarette, scraping the glowing tip out with the heel of his boot as Ryker finds a rock even bigger than the one Slate threw.
Ariel looks back at them with a pained grimace on her face, presumably to see who threw something at her, and Ryker chooses then to throw his own rock. This one hits Ariel right in the side of her forehead, and knocks her off her feet. She lands on her knees, holding her face. Zane can see a little bit of blood, even from here.
Ryker cheers and laughs harder, and tosses a rock to Zane. "Your turn," he says.
Zane looks at the rock in his hand, and then past his friends' laughing faces to where Ariel is kneeling on the ground, touching her forehead and pulling her hand away, looking at the blood on her palm. Something pulls at Zane's heart, but he stubbornly ignores it, and reels back, throwing the rock hard. He purposely misses her head, aiming for her back, and when the rock hits her in the ribs just beside her backpack, Zane watches her flinch and start to try to stand.
"What the fuck was that, Zane? I thought you had better aim than that!" Ryker whines, smacking him in the shoulder. Zane just shrugs and grabs his backpack, ready to head inside.
"Come on," Slate grins, grabbing up a few more rocks and starting to walk across the parking lot. He's not headed towards the school, though. He's headed towards Ariel.
Ryker chuckles and follows him, scooping up a couple rocks on his way, and Zane sighs, hesitating before walking after them too. Ariel barely regains her footing before Ryker throws another rock at her head. It hits her in the back of the neck, but she still falls to her knees again, off-balance and a little disoriented from the previous hits.
Slate throws another one of the rocks in his hand, missing by a few inches, and Zane sees Ariel flinch as the stone bounces past her face. She looks back at them again while trying to stand and Ryker throws his whole handful of rocks at her. One of them hits her in the side of the mouth, splitting her lip, but the rest of the rocks miss her, which is probably a good thing. She's already bleeding enough.
Slate throws the rest of his rocks at the same time, and Ariel ducks her head down, holding her bleeding mouth and flinching. She's still on the ground when the three of them reach her, and Zane can hear her making little pained noises that are barely audible in the morning chill. He watches as Slate pulls out his lighter from his pocket. He's confused for a second, because he thinks that Slate is going to throw the lighter at her. Why waste a good lighter?
But then, he flicks the lighter on, and a little flame pops out of the top. Slate doesn't even hesitate before leaning down over Ariel and touching the little flame to the edge of her long tan trench coat.
Zane's eyes widen as the coat quickly catches on fire. The material is thin, soft, and dry, perfectly flammable, and Slate laughs as the fire starts to grow, climbing up Ariel's side and licking at the sleeve of the garment. She doesn't notice that she's on fire at first, still trying to get her feet under her and get to school.
When she does notice though, just as the flames are starting to eat through the coat, she gasps and flails, slipping on the pavement while trying to get the coat off. She ends up on her ass trying to get her arms out of the sleeves, but her backpack is on over the coat and prevents her from pulling the flaming thing off quicker.
Zane doesn't think. He just reacts.
Before he knows what he's doing, he's shoving past the laughing Slate and gawking Ryker, and he's reaching down, grabbing Ariel by the arms and bodily hauling her to her feet. She fights his hold as much as she fights to try to get the quickly-burning trench coat off of herself.
Zane grabs the straps of Ariel's backpack and rips the thing off of her so roughly it probably bruises her shoulders, but he's moving so blindly he doesn't even realize it. He shoves her arms out of the way and takes the lapels of the trench coat, tearing it off of her just as the flames are crawling up onto her shoulder. He throws the flaming garment aside as she stumbles back and away from him and the fire, falling to the ground and shuffling back by her heels. Her blue eyes are impossibly wide and she's breathing hard in shock, staring up at him.
Zane sc
ans her body, making sure she's not on fire anywhere else. The back of her hair is singed a little from the flames, and from here he can see a small blister on her arm where the fire ate through the coat too quickly. She looks otherwise unburned. Zane stomps the flaming coat out and stares down at her. They lock eyes and they're both breathing hard, Ariel's mouth and forehead bleeding, dripping onto her I LOVE NY t-shirt.
It's about then that he realizes what he just did. He swallows hard and glances back at Ryker and Slate, who are just standing there watching everything happen with judgement in their eyes. Ryker is stifling a bit of laughter, and Slate is staring at Zane, looking somewhat pissed at him for putting an end to his prank. But that wasn't a prank. Slate lit Ariel on fire. Zane knows what it's like to be on fire. That wasn't a joke.
But still, he suddenly feels a little embarrassed. He and his friends don't help losers, they hurt them. And he just helped Ariel. He looks down at the remaining half of the trench coat, black and in shreds on the ground, and then looks back at Ariel where she's just sitting there staring at him. She looks like she's in shock.
Zane grits his teeth, and he realizes his hands are shaking a little as he reaches down and scoops up the coat. He needs to restore the natural order of things here. Wadding the coat up into a charred tan and black ball in his hands, he turns and throws the thing harder than necessary into Ariel's face. She fumbles to catch it, blinking down at the coat and then back up at him. Zane wants to say something, something snide or witty. He's usually so good at insulting people. But he can only stare at her for a few seconds, and he musters up his best glare, his lip twitching his frustration.
Then he turns, walking towards the school without another word. Slate and Ryker follow after him, leaving Ariel there bleeding and burned on the ground.
For the rest of the day, pains travel up and down Zane's side over his scars, aching and nagging, demanding his attention when he'd rather think about anything but the feeling of fire melting away his skin.
Ariel doesn't show up to their math class, and he wonders if maybe she went to the hospital for the wounds on her head. Zane has to leave class halfway through because he can't stand the pain in his side. Can't stand the pain that isn't even really there.
And he can't stand the image of Ariel's shocked pale face flashing through his mind every five minutes.
He grips his scarred up side as he whips out his phone and sends a text off to Noah. Slate is at The Docks when Zane steps outside, so he turns and heads the other direction, meeting Noah at the front of the school. They walk off together towards Ghost Town, just the two of them, and Noah doesn't even ask about Zane's hand clutching his side the whole time. Noah has seen Zane's scars. He's never asked about them, and Zane has never told anyone.
They sit in the train car together, and Zane doesn't say a word, just accepts the alcohol when Noah offers it, and Noah supplies all the conversation. He's good at that, talking, and unlike Slate's hissing voice, Noah's is soothing like burnt whiskey.
Zane drinks and drinks and drinks. He drinks until he can no longer see Ariel's face in his head. He drinks until he can no longer feel the ache of flames turning his body to ash. And he drinks until he can no longer smell burning hairspray.
13
The emergency room is practically empty when I arrive there mid-morning. I must look borderline laughable when I walk in, holding the burnt remains of my father's trench coat to my forehead to stop the bleeding. The split on the side of my mouth where Ryker had thrown the rock has stopped bleeding already, but I can still taste the coppery tang on my tongue.
I don't even realize I'm shaking, or that my fingers are numb, until I try to pick up a pen at reception to sign myself into the hospital. I'm not surprised that I can only see one other patient besides myself. It's a small town, and today is as unremarkable as they come. This little hospital probably doesn't see much more action than the occasional broken hip or appendectomy.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" the receptionist asks, standing up from her chair.
I continue to try to pick up the pen from the counter. I keep missing. My head throbs.
"Um, I'm...bleeding," I respond distractedly. My cold fingers finally wrap around the body of the pen, and I search for a sign-in sheet.
"Ma'am, you can fill out your paperwork later," the receptionist says, reaching out for the pen. "Let me page someone for you."
"Okay," I reply simply, releasing the pen and standing there awkwardly, clutching the ruined garment to my head. I eye the waiting room. There are blue plastic chairs and a tropical salt water fish tank. An elderly man with crutches is sitting in the corner looking out the window, and I'm not entirely sure whether or not he's awake behind his sunglasses.
"Ma'am, can I get your name?" the receptionist asks, covering the mouthpiece of the phone she's on.
"Ariel Riley," I say, blinking. I barely hear myself. My ears are ringing. I barely remember walking here. Is this what shock feels like? Am I in shock? I don't know why I would be. My injuries, to my knowledge, aren't that bad. But I can still feel the heat of the fire on the back of my head. I shiver.
"Alright Ms. Riley, a nurse will be out in just a minute to help you," the receptionist says. "She asked that you take a seat while you wait."
I nod and swallow, sitting down next to the giant fish tank and staring in at an anemone as it sways and drifts in the current of the filter, the bulbous branches reflecting the light in a calming orange-pink. A clownfish darts in and out of it, swirling around the arms before drifting up to the glass next to my face. I stare at the fish right in the eyes, and the thing stares back.
"I'll bet the other fish don't throw rocks at you," I murmur to the clownfish. It floats there for another second or two and then drifts off to the other side of the tank. I sigh and lean ttback in my chair, removing the trench coat from my face and looking at all the blood covering it. I wonder if Dad will be upset that his trench coat is ruined. I wonder if he'll even notice.
Green eyes are flashing through my head. Angry, panicked green eyes. Zane had saved me. Zane had saved me. I know for a fact that the fire would have burned me a lot worse than it did had Zane not stepped in and all but torn my clothes off when he did. Why did he do that? Why did he save me? Why did he help me when all he's really done so far since I met him is hurt me over and over with his friends? Why now? Why did he decide to help me now?
"Ariel Riley?" a woman's voice calls.
I look up and the nurse smiles, waving me over. She's pretty, with dark hair and hazel eyes, and her smile is comforting. I stand, and my knees are a little shaky as I make my way over there. She leads me back into a large room that's empty apart from a woman on a gurney to the side with a bandage on her nose, a silver-haired doctor hovering over her.
I sit down on a hospital bed and the nurse—her nametag reads Tessa—pulls a curtain in front of it closed for a little more privacy.
"Alright," she says with a smile, setting her clipboard down. "Looks like you had a little accident today. Can you tell me what happened?" She begins unwrapping sterile gauze packets and different liquids. I eye the suture kit on the table next to her and grit my teeth.
I briefly consider lying. I hate the look people give me when I tell them kids at school beat me up. Other times when I've had to go to the hospital, I've told them I fell or ran into a wall. But today, I feel strangely tired, and I wonder if it's the shock.
I elect to tell the truth, prodding at my swollen and tender forehead with my fingertips. "Some people at school threw rocks at me," I say, looking down at the floor next to the bed. "My head wouldn't stop bleeding, so I came here." I wish the school nurse had been there today, but when I'd gone to check, the clinic was closed for some reason.
"Why were they throwing rocks at you?" she asks, her eyes tilted sympathetically, forehead crunching. She scoots forward on her stool and starts dabbing at my face with a wet cloth, just wiping away the blood for now.
I
shrug. "Because they were bored," I supply. I don't want to get into the whole psychological dynamic of bullying.
She hums in understanding, cleaning away the rest of the blood on my forehead and the side of my mouth. "They sound like assholes," she mutters, and I actually smile a little, giving a small chuckle.
"Yeah, I suppose they are."
She grins at me and then leans in closer to get a better look at the gash on my forehead. "Well it doesn't look like it needs any stitches, but I'm gonna put a butterfly bandage on it to keep it closed until it can heal," she says. "You'll have a fat lip for a day or two but that looks like it'll be okay. Dr. Garrison can give you some cream for it."
I wince a little as she applies an antiseptic gel and then secures the butterfly bandage onto my forehead. I resist the urge to pick at it, huffing a little to myself. I'd just last night pulled the bandage off my forehead that Bonnie had put there a week ago. Here I thought I'd have a day or two without anything stuck to my face.
"A rock hit the back of my head too," I say absently. "I think it's bleeding."
She goes around behind me and prods gently at my hair. I flinch when she grazes her gloved fingertips over the wound.
"Sorry," she says, leaning in and cleaning a little bit of the blood away, parting my hair enough to get a good view of the wound. "Mm, afraid this one will need a couple stitches," she says regrettably.
I watch her grab up the suture kit. She shaves the area, and sterilizes it before stitching the wound closed
"Alright, a little pinch here," she warns, and I feel a sting on the back of my head as she injects the local anesthetic. "Let me know if you feel any pain, and I can dose you with some more."
I nod and sit quietly while she stitches the back of my head, chewing on my lip and listening to the doctor and the lady with the injured nose across the room talking quietly.
"You have some fresh blisters on the back of your neck here," Tessa notes as she ties off the last stitch and places a small bandage on my head. "Do you know what those are from?"