by Gemma Weir
I should be used to the stares and whispers. I’ve had them every day since my dad dropped me off on the back of his stupid motorcycle and made me into a queen, when all I wanted to do was blend in. He thought he was making my life easier, he thought he was protecting me, but all he really did was paint a target on my back, then lift me onto a platform high enough that everyone wants to take a shot at me, but no one can reach.
I formed this hard shell to protect myself and now it’s become a cage. A gilded cage of popularity and status that has slowly been shrinking until it threatens to either shatter to pieces or strangle me.
I don’t know how long I stay with my hands clutched around my head, but after what feels like hours, my erratic heart slows and breathing becomes easier. My limbs are stiff when I finally unfurl myself from my crouch and I feel slow and sluggish as I stand up and fumble with the stall lock.
By the time I enter my homeroom the period is almost over, but Mrs. Andrews does nothing but offer me a warm smile when I push through the door and slide into my seat. I search the faces for Valentine, but he’s not here and instead my eyes catch with Brit’s. Hers harden into an angry, haunted glare and any hope of fixing our broken friendship is dashed by the look in her eyes. I wish Zeke were here instead of getting ready for the pep rally.
When the bell rings, I slowly gather my things and avoid eye contact with everyone else as I leave the classroom. I want to laugh at myself. Here I am, the most popular girl in school, the one every other girl here either loves, or loves to hate, and yet I’m alone, so incredibly alone.
Since the incident with Brit, even the girls from our circle have avoided me, all except for Emmy of course. I don’t miss the bitchy in-fighting, the back-stabbing or the vapid drone about boys and sex. But as I traverse the school hallways alone, it makes me wonder if Zeke feels this divide too.
He has Griffin, who moved here to live with Duke his brother when he was only a kid after his parents died. He was sad and lonely and when Duke brought him round to ours one day, he just became one of us. None of the other kids are Sinners, they’re not part of us, even though some want to be.
Me, Zeke, Emmy, and Griffin, plus the younger kids, Leo, Dill, and Phoenix; we’re different, but not because we choose to be, but because that’s how we’ve always been treated.
Somehow, acknowledging that we’ll never fit in alleviates a little of the anxiety swirling around inside of me, and I manage to straighten a little, pulling my shoulders back and at least faking a little more of my usual nonchalance.
I push through the doors into the gym and spot Emmy two rows from the front in the tiered seating that flanks one wall. Moving through the crowd, I slide into the seat next to her and again scan the crowd searching for Valentine in the sea of familiar, yet distant faces.
With almost every seat filled, I still haven’t found him, and I wish I could ask Zeke if he went and picked him up this morning. Even more so, I wish I didn’t want to see him. I wish he didn’t affect me the way he does.
When Principal Gerard steps up to the microphone that’s been set up on the raised stage against the opposite wall, the crowd quietens down a little. The principal drones on about how prestigious an honor it is to be a part of our athletic teams and how proud we should all be of the quality of outstanding players we have from such a small town.
Eventually he passes the mike to Coach McGrath who talks about the football teams for a moment, then signals to someone at the back of the stage. All of a sudden, the lights dim and loud music bursts to life as one by one the members of the JV then the Varsity football teams are introduced. Every player enters the gym at a run and is greeted by raucous applause and cheers, culminating in an almost deafening roar when Zeke, our star Quarterback, is introduced last.
The boys all line up in their team tracksuits behind Coach McGrath and he waits for the noise to die down before he turns to the huge white screen that is being lowered from the ceiling. “I give you your Archer’s Creek Argonauts,” he cries, and a video showing the team running drills begins to play.
The video cuts to Zeke throwing a ball and it landing perfectly in Griffin’s hands then cuts again to Henry, running through the endzone and throwing the ball for a touchdown.
The music abruptly ends, and the screen goes blank as rustling feet and murmurs fill the room. When the video bursts back into life, it’s no longer images of the football team. Instead, I’m staring at a twenty-foot screen showing me and Zeke in the hallway.
The concern on Zeke’s face and my wide-eyed expression have me rising from my seat. But before I can move, the sound suddenly kicks in and I hear my own voice echoing around the huge space.
“I just snapped. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to be that person, I can’t.”
I watch as the scene plays out like a car crash in slow motion. Transfixed, I watch as I grab at my own head and curl into myself.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind, Zeke. The stares and the whispers, they’re all I can hear, all I can see, and I don’t even know if they’re all aimed at me but it’s driving me crazy. It used to just be at parties when there were so many people, but now it’s all the time. Every time I walk through the halls or into a classroom, all I can hear is the voice in the back of my head, telling me that they’re all judging me and I just can’t take it anymore.”
I know I should move, that I should make them stop the video, but I’m so horrified, so transfixed by the way I look, half crazed and feral, that I just stare as the video continues with Zeke pulling me into his chest. “It’s okay, shhh.” He says.
I’d been so frantic when we had this conversation that I don’t remember pushing my brother away. But now I’m watching it all play out on a screen so big that everyone can see it, the volume so loud that not a single person in the room misses it, as I fall apart right there for everyone to see. I feel my legs turn to mush and if it wasn’t for Emmy behind me, I’m fairly sure I’d fall.
“No, it’s not going to be okay. I can’t sleep. The voices and the questions just keep circling around in my head. Are they staring? Are they talking about me? Do they know who I am? Can they see that I’m a fucking psycho who hears voices in my head? She was saying that I suck dick and that’s why I’m popular. They have no idea that I don’t want this. I never wanted people to think I was this mean, heartless bitch. It’s all pretend, Zeke, all of it and I just… I can’t keep pretending. I want to hide; I just want to curl up into a ball and hide and then maybe these thoughts.”
I watch the screen as I slap at the side of my head. “Maybe then all of these thoughts will go away and it will be quiet. I just want it to be quiet.”
Tears start to roll down my cheeks at the same time as they appear on my face in the video and my heart, my soul, shatters in two. The video cuts off as abruptly as it started and I feel every single eye in the place land on me. The silence is so thick that I swear not one person breathes in what feels like an entire lifetime, but is probably only half a second.
Bile rises in my throat and I bend over and throw up all over the seat in front of me. Still no one says a word. My mind is buzzing so loudly, my ears are ringing, and I faintly feel someone touching me, before strong arms lift me into the air and I’m moving.
My brother carries me from the gym, only setting me back down once we’re out of the cavernous space and next to my locker. The moment my feet touch the floor, I bend at the waist and throw up again, then I stagger to the side as the tears start to come.
My legs give way and I sink to the floor as sobs wrack my body, my limbs shaking as tears run freely down my cheeks. I feel the wetness on my chest and arms, but my body is numb, in shock, broken, ruined.
The gym doors part and suddenly the empty hallway is filled with people, all silently watching as I sit on the floor sobbing and destroyed. When the crowd parts and Valentine bursts into view, I watch as his lips form into a word, but the ringing in my ears is so loud that all I can hear are the sounds of my
own thoughts.
I deserve this.
They all know.
They all saw.
I’m crazy.
I’m broken.
I’m ruined.
I’m ruined.
I’m ruined.
The last thought plays on repeat over and over, getting louder and louder as he moves toward me. Our gazes lock and there’s something in his eyes, but I don’t know what it is. He should be smug, he should be victorious, he should be happy. He did this, he recorded a video of me, and he played it for the entire school. He told me he wanted to teach me a lesson. He taunted me last night about how I’m shallow and more interested in what other people thought of me. He did this. He won. He said he’d ruin me and he has.
He ruined me.
He reaches me, kneeling down next to me and the buzzing in my head recedes for long enough that I can hear him calling me.
“Princess.”
My breaths get shallower and I shake my head from side to side.
He promised to ruin me. He did this. He did this.
When his hand touches my arm, I scream, yanking away from him. He calls me again and I shake my head even more viciously.
“You ruined me,” I whisper. “You won.”
Then I curl my head between my legs, clamp my hands over my ears and try to block out everything. When I feel his hands on me, I scream again, “No.”
Whipping my head up, I glare at him, “Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me,” I scream.
His eyes are wide and shocked, but he moves back, sliding his hand away from me slowly.
“How could you?” I gasp, my words broken and tear-filled.
I watch as he shakes his head back and forth, but I just bury my face in my knees again and let the blackness take over.
I sit on the floor next to her, watching as she sobs, her entire body shaking with the effort. I want to touch her, but I can’t. She won’t let me and it’s killing me.
Nova’s strong and vibrant, but beneath it all she’s fragile. She hides behind her bullshit mean girl act, but that’s not who she really is. I was planning to find her after this stupid pep rally and apologize; or, I don’t know, order her to kiss me, to let me touch her until she lost herself in me the way she has the last couple of days.
I’d been late getting to school this morning. Brandi had to take me to meet with my social worker to discuss how I’m settling in and I didn’t get into school until halfway through second period.
When that video had started playing and I’d watched as she told her brother that she felt like she was going crazy, my heart fucking broke. She tried to tell me last night that she was struggling and instead of helping, I lost my shit and shouted at her. I called her names and then walked away, because I’m too blinded by my own shit, by my past, to think about anything but myself.
This girl, this fucking girl, she’s haunted me from the moment I laid eyes on her and all I’ve done is torture her, bully her, and manipulate her, because she reminds me of someone I’ve spent the last two years trying to forget. This all started because I didn’t want to want her, then she’d shocked the shit out of me when she melted in my arms. I hadn’t been prepared to like her, to want her. I’d enjoyed the fear in her eyes, I’d enjoyed playing with her, toying with her.
But everything changed when she came to me willingly. She’d sought me out, kissed me like she was mine, then she’d come all over my hand and fallen asleep in my arms. What had started as hate had changed and if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot, maybe I could have convinced her I’m not the cruel asshole she thinks I am.
Unable to stop myself from going to her, I reach for her again. The moment my fingers touch her skin she screams like I’m burning her. Those fucking expressive eyes of hers lift to me and I almost stumble under the pain in them.
“You ruined me. You won,” she whispers.
I shake my head, but she’s not looking. Her head’s down and she’s crying again while everyone but me and Zeke, the twins, Emmy, and Griffin, crowd around her trying to shield her from view.
I reach for her again and she screams, “No,” shrinking away from me. “Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me,” she cries.
She lifts her head again and her broken, destroyed eyes lock with mine. “How could you?” She whispers.
Realization dawns on me and I shake my head. She thinks I did this. She thinks I recorded that video and played it for the whole school.
“What the fuck did you do?” Zeke demands, stalking forward and shoving his hands into my chest.
“No. This wasn’t me. I’d never…” I say, my eyes fixed on Nova’s tiny body, curled into a ball and rocking back and forth.
“Why?” Emmy gasps, tears running down her cheeks.
“I didn’t,” I cry, begging her to believe me.
“She told me everything,” she says, shaking her head, her tiny fists hanging stiffly at her sides. “I hate you so much,” she cries, as she lifts her hand to cover her mouth as a sob bursts from her lips. Then she turns away from me and covers Nova with her body, wrapping her arms around her protectively.
“I will fucking kill you,” Zeke growls, a moment before his fist ploughs into my face.
I take the hit and don’t move to retaliate. “This wasn’t me. I would never,” I say, but Zeke isn’t listening, instead he turns and scoops his sister up from the floor and cradles her in his arms.
As a unit the six of them turn and walk away, leaving me standing there watching them go and taking my princess with them.
They think I did this; they think I deliberately hurt her, broke her, ruined her.
But this wasn’t me.
I’m going to find out who did this to Nova and I’m going to make sure they suffer.
Then I’m going to go to my princess on my fucking knees and beg for her to forgive me.
Nova wears the perfect disguise, but she’s always hiding. She let me see behind the mask for a single perfect fucking moment and she found something inside of me that I thought I’d lost forever.
This is all my fault. She’s broken, but I’ll find a way to fix her.
* * *
To be Continued…
This book is something a little different than the books you’re probably used to from me.
This one is kind of personal.
I have anxiety. It’s not pretty and some days it’s fucking awful, but I’m coping. I’m doing my thing the best way I can.
This book deals with someone suffering with anxiety. This isn’t the textbook definition of what anxiety looks like, but this is what it feels like to me.
;
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Nova & Valentine’s story continues in Found
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Coming soon.