Then Came You (2 page)

“Yeah, but he takes years, and I don’t want to be the one to get the new girl late on her first day,” she grins.

I look odd, compared to Dana. My casual clothes stand out blaringly next to her black fishnet top and black mini skirt. People stare at us as we walk past, but Dana doesn’t give it a second thought. I wonder where she got her confidence. I almost envy how she doesn’t seem to care what anybody else things about her.

Two

As the weeks go by, I find myself settling in to the droll days of school and the emptiness of my home. Remy, Dana and Joey kept me around and I’d grown to call them my friends, despite the fact that I still didn’t really open up to them.

There were also the awkward moments when I would see Tyler Masters in the hallways or the cafeteria. He would look at me and smile, or wink, before carrying on with his conversation with his friends. He even shared a few classes with me, like drama, P.E. and History.

I’ve learnt a lot about the three people who invited me to sit with them. We eat lunch together every day and they always invite me out after school and on weekends, to which I politely decline. But that didn’t mean I was more tempted to with each passing day.

I’d become close to Dana, who was strong, smart and had an air of confidence that meant you couldn’t help but respect her. She had a dry, dark sense of humour which would sometimes make me feel guilty about laughing, until she said something else funny.

Remy was the most outspoken, friendly, energetic person I had ever met. She spoke what was on her mind, from the weird to the straight out random, and she broke out into song and dance a lot. She could hardly keep still a lot of the time, and had a habit of hugging you, even if you’d just been gone for a brief moment. She was like a child, and her craziness was new to me.

I shared two classes with Joey; P.E. and Music. I learnt that he was a major socialite, who was stuck to his phone 80% of the time. He had various blogs, his own website, as well as accounts on every socialising website you can think of. He was popular in a quiet way. During our classes he would say random comments that made me laugh, or nudge me and smirk when someone was being harassed by a teacher.

“Miss Low, are you paying attention?” I look up to see our music teacher watching me with his hawk-like eyes, hands on his hips in an irritated gesture. I ignore Joey, who’s nudging me repeatedly, and shake my head at our teacher.

“No, sir, sorry.”
I say quietly, my cheeks flushing. I beg silently that nobody notices my blush and look back down, letting my hair fall around me.

As Mr Harrow carries on his lecture, Joey leans over to me. “What’s on your mind, baby girl?” He whispers.

“Nothing,” I say back, smiling thinly at him.

He rolls his eyes at my answer and shakes his head slowly. “One day, you will share what’s troubling you. You don’t have to hide your scars from your friends, Darcy.”

I feel tears brimming at my eyes. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, not all of it. No one does, I can’t have them disgusted with me,
or
pity me. “My scars are
mine
alone, ugly, squiggly marks on my skin that will just change the way people look at me. I don’t need your pity, Joey,” I grumble, grabbing my bag and walking out of the classroom before the bell goes. Mr Harrow tries to tell me to get back in my seat but I ignore him, ducking my head and walking as far from the lesson as I can.

Seven months and twelve days today, and I’m still not over it. I’m ugly, grotesque, and I have the scars to prove it. Nothing will ever fix what he did to me, what
they
did to me. To be hurt is painful; to be betrayed is utterly agonizing.

“Hey, why did you walk out just then?” Someone says, walking towards me with a concerned tone in their voice. I’d leant against a wall, slid down to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing them to my chest. I look up through my tears, a familiar pair of hazel eyes looking down at me.

“What-Are you okay? You’re crying!” He’s reached my now, bending to his knees to look at me better. A hesitant hand reaches out and brushes my tears away, warm meeting cold, dry meeting wet. His eyes melt when they meet my own tortured gaze and he puts an arm around me, pulling me to his chest.

“It can’t be that bad, can it? Are you hurt?” He asks, his lips a moving against my ear, breathing how air down my neck and giving me goosebumps.

I almost choke, my eyes snapping open and red flashing across my eyes.
Too close, too close! Scream! Get away!
My mind is screaming at me, thoughts echoing around my head. My breathing gets shallow and I start to panic, pushing at him weakly, trying to escape.

He senses my panic almost immediately, pulling away with a shocked expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll go get the nurse or someone…”

“No!” I say desperately, wide eyes meeting his. “Please… just… give me a minute. I’ll be fine soon.”

He looks hesitant, eyes scrutinizing me. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a freak now, I am anyway. I just
can’t
have anyone finding out! “Okay.” he nods slowly, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it gently, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you’re ready.”

A few minutes pass and the tears are beginning to stop. I’m like a leaky tap, tears falling from my eyes at any given moment. I try not to cry, especially in public. I don’t want to be weak, I want to be strong.

Why did they have to make me weak?

Finally, I lift me head, which had somehow situated itself in the crook of Tyler’s neck. He looks down and smiles a little, the corner of his mouth turning up the smallest bit. It means insecurity, nervous, sympathy, confusion. It’s the smile I use a lot.

“I’m sorry I made you miss class,” I frown, still not pulling away from him. His arm is around me, warm and comforting. I know it won’t be there forever, but I almost wish it would last.

He shrugs casually. “It doesn’t matter. Are you better now?”

I nod and smile a little at him. “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he winks. “I like helping damsels in distress. You’re friends do call me Prince Charming after all.”

I gape at him, “You know about that.”

“Yup,” he smirks. I feel myself blush and I hide my face in my hands before he can see. “Hey!” he laughs, pulling them away. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute. And I know you don’t call me that anyway.”

“Oh, right,” I sigh in relief. His eyes melt again and he lifts a hand, moving it towards my face. I suck in a breath as his warm fingers stroke my cheek, brushing a lock of hair out of my face and sending tingles across my skin. “W-What are you doing?”

He smiles and pulls his hand back. “There was a lock of hair in your face. Sorry ‘bout that.” I nod and smile thinly back at him, my cheeks still flushed. I duck my head, trying to hide behind my hair out of habit, but he gently takes my chin and lifts it up.

“Anyway, I should probably be going now. I have History, and I’m already failing. Are you going to be okay going to class?”

“Yeah, sure,” I clear my throat and wince, trying again. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again for… helping me.”

“No problem, Darcy.” He grins. “See you later.”

I watch him walk away with his head looking down, his tawny hair curling over the collar of his white shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. Once he’s gone, I slide my sleeves over my hands, hide my face behind my hair again, and don’t look up until I find my next class.

He said he’d see me later, but I know for a fact he didn’t mean it. People like him never mean the things they say.

Three

It’s later that night, when the phone starts ringing. Dad isn’t home yet – he’s always working late nowadays, mostly so he doesn’t have to see me, and also because we need the money. Back at home, I used to babysit for our neighbours and family friends. I stopped that not long after mum died, and I’d started working at the local library, where I didn’t have to talk to people that much.

Libraries were where I felt closest to mum. She was a writer, with a few bestsellers too. She read to me every night, and a lot during the day, because I could never get enough of the way she somehow made the books come alive. She helped out at the libraries a lot in her spare time, often taking me there and letting me pick out books. We’d sit on the sofas together, curled up into foetal positions – me reading my books and her reading hers.

After mum left, the words in my books became less lively and fun and more of a way to escape, a way to hide away from the world. I would see the books she used to read and cry, knowing that she would never read them again. I had tried reading her books sometimes, but my eyes blurred as I read them that I realised I would never be able to read a love story without bursting into tears. So instead, I only read horror and adventure, genres as far from romance as possible. It’s safer that way.

I stopped writing too. That made a lot of people disappointed, because everyone said I had a gift, much like my mother did. But ours were so much different. Mum was a novel writer, and author. I’m more of a poet and lyric writer. But that all stopped the moment I realised she would never write again. I don’t write for fun anymore – I can’t betray her like that.

I put down the latest book I’ve been reading and climb off my bed, pulling my grey hoodie over my pink boxer shorts a little more before heading downstairs to answer the phone. I pick it up and press it to my ear hesitantly.

“Hello?”

“Darcy, is that you?” Someone asks. They don’t bother waiting for an answer before carrying on. “Hey! Listen I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party tomorrow night? My brother’s back from college and he’s inviting all his old high school buddies and his new college ones too. It’s gonna be a blast!”

I wrinkle my nose, “Remy, I don’t know…”

“Aw, come on, Darcy! You can’t miss
another
party! Do you
want
to grow old and die with regrets? Live a little, babe!” She says loudly. I can practically see her now, jumping up and down with excitement.

“Remy, how did you even get my number?” I ask her.

“Joey knows someone who knows someone who works with your dad, duh.” Oh, right, of course. “So, are you coming or what?”

“I-I’ll see, okay?”

“YES!” She screams down the phone. I imagine her doing a little fist punch and grin, knowing that’s probably about right for Remy. “I can’t wait! You are not going to regret this, Darcy Low!”

I laugh a little at her excitement, hating the fact that I’ll only end up saying no in the end. “I’m not making any promises, Remy.”

“Not
yet,
” she giggles. “Oh, I gotta go! My mums just got back from work and I’m not supposed to be on the phone. Apparently my last phone bill cost a bomb. Well, byeee!”

She hangs up before I can say anything else and I’m left holding the phone with a dazed look on my face, wonder what the hell I’ve just gotten myself into.

“It’s just a party, don’t worry about it,” Dana says casually, ever the voice of reason. She grabs her apple and bites into it, shrugging. “And besides, you can always sleep over at mine that night.”

“But I don’t think I can go,” I protest.

Dana narrows her eyes and puts her apple down, leaning towards me. “Darcy, I don’t really care if you
want
to go to this party or not. You
need
to go. I’m your friend and I’m looking you for you here, but how are we supposed to help you if you don’t let us? You don’t do anything besides go to school, go home and sleep, and it’s not
healthy.
You need to
do
something, before it’s too late and you end up middle age and wonder
What if?
All the damn time!”

Joey and Remy walk over with their trays and place them on the table, looking from me to Dana, then back again.

“Um, what’s going on?” Remy asks warily.

“Dana, hun, are you giving Darcy here one of your speeches about life? You know, it’s rude to be all deep and emotional when people are trying to eat.” Joey says, digging into his burger and getting his phone out with the other hand.

Dana rolls her eyes and flips him off, “whatever, Gossip Girl. I was just trying to convince Miss Recluse here to go to the party. She’s backing out on us, Remy.”

“What?” Remy looks at me and pouts, “But you
promised!
Pleeeeease, Darcy, it won’t be the same without you. I thought we were friends!”

My eyes widen and I feel someone nudge me. I turn to look at Dana, who smiles innocently at me. “Now, Darcy, are you
really
going to break your friends’ heart? Look at her – she’s close to tears!”

As if on cue, a tear rolls down Remy’s face and she begins to sniffle, her hands on her heart dramatically. Guilt washes over me and I wince, knowing for a fact that I’m going to regret this…