Scarred Roses

Chapter 7-inches from sinking

When Monday afternoon steadily approached, with each, passing tick of the clock, I decided not to spend it alone this time. Since I haven’t had a chance to explain to the group why I fled the Café on Sunday, I thought I ought to tell them today. And since the heat was beating down on us the entire day, Bridget suggested the school pool once again. Stopping at home to drop off my schoolbag and get my swimming gear, I hurried back as the school grounds were just about deserted. Flora, Ingrid and Marlon were already there when I showed up. Flora, in a hot-pink bikini, was sunbathing by the poolside, Ingrid applying sunblock to her arms and back, and Marlon already in the pool, the water and the sun shining off of his dark-coffee complexion. After putting my bag down, I took my cue and began to strip. Stuffing my sun-dress into my ruck-sack before joining Ingrid at the poolside to put on some sunblock.

“Thoughts on that new English assignment?” Ingrid asked me, slathering more, white gunk onto her cheeks. “I’ve been brainstorming about it since we left class.”

“While I fail to achieve the same level of enthusiasm, it does sound like fun.” I replied, smiling as I smoothed some sunblock of my own over my chalky arms.

“In what way is an English assignment fun?” Marlon enquired, perched at the edge of the pool.

“In relation to our movie ‘The pursuit of happiness’ we’ve got to express our own idea of happiness, in any medium we want. Films, essays, music, even stories and poems. I’m planning a movie, and I’m getting big plans indeed.”

“Can we be in it?” Flora jumped at the question. “Ooh! We could play a bunch of bright, young things in the 1920’s.”

“Or we could do an action flick; a car chase, bags of solid gold in the trunk, and the police on our tail. We’re going through Monte Carlo; the chase gets faster until it’s just us and the cops. And then, without warning, we drive off of a cliff-heading towards the ocean. Just when the cops think we’re dead, we’ve got the gold hidden under the sea, and we’re in a submarine to Russia! It’ll be awesome.”

“Something makes me thing we don’t quite have the budget for that.” Ingrid laughed, “How about a rom-com? Boy meets girl, they get into a wacky situation together which leads to them falling in love, boy’s ex shows up, girl gets upset and leaves, then they reunite with a grand gesture. The end.”

“How original!” Flora giggled, fanning herself with her hand. “Whatever you decide, count me in. You need a vivacious, drama-savvy heroine to complete your motion picture.”

“And a token black-guy!” We all laughed at Marlon’s jest. He hardly referenced his skin-colour in a joke, but when it did it was surprisingly well-timed.

“I’m guessing you’ll do something with your photography, Hazel?” Flora asked me.

“You’re guessing correct. I just don’t know what I’ll be doing yet. And um…about Saturday, I just wanted to say- “

“Hazel, you don’t need to apologise.” Flora cut me short. “I understand why you left. Hell, everybody did!”

“What do you mean?” Now I was downright confused.

“We didn’t get a chance to tell you over lunch, so we thought we’d do it here, while we’re in private.” Ingrid explained, “After you left, there was some conflict at The Square.”

“Gertie spotted Trevor in the café.” Marlon continued, “Went straight up to him and said he wasn’t welcome here. Told him, straight to his face that she didn’t tolerate perverts in her café.”

“He…he grew cocky.” Ingrid added, nervously. “He starting saying she had no right to kick him out, that he did nothing wrong, and that he was no pervert.”

“And then…”

“Then what?” All he could’ve said was nothing I hadn’t heard from his friends before.

“He started mouthing off. Saying it was all because of that ‘damned Kazia kid’ spreading lies about him. He said you jumped him like a horny, little dog, and that he tried to fight you off but a man could only take so much of a pretty girl throwing herself at him.” Flora shuddered in disgust. “We said we knew it wasn’t like that, and he had witnesses too, but he said ‘what does that matter? Her only witness is that sister of hers, and we all know she’s the biggest slut in town’. His friends sneered along with him, the band had left the stage to try and talk him into leaving, but then that guy, Nicholas…”

“Nicholas went back?” That was certainly a surprise.

“Yeah-he got really aggressive too.” Marlon said, sounding just as unbelieving as I was. “Starting shoving him about, calling him a bastard and a r****t. Trevor tried laughing in his face, called him a hypocrite and all that, but that didn’t do him any good. He socked him, right in the jaw. He packed a punch took; it must’ve made him bite his tongue or something because the next thing we knew, Trevor was spitting out blood.”

Nicholas punched him? But why? It certainly couldn’t be for my sake-not after what I told him that night. Maybe it was just the realisation that he’d been assisting a pervert-yes, that’s it. Nothing more than that.

“They both got kicked out in the end.” Ingrid concluded the story. “We don’t know what happened to Nicholas, but I caught a glimpse of Trevor yesterday afternoon. He had a swollen jaw, a black eye, and a split lip.”

“Well whatever happened, he didn’t even get a scratch.” I replied, “Not a bruise or mark in sight, when I saw him.”

“So, what’s new?” Leo and Bridget showed up-Bridget in her daisy-dukes and bikini top, and Leo, still wearing a shirt alongside his swimming trunks.

“We’re about to go swimming.” I announced, taking on more cheerful tone as I let myself slip into the cool, chlorine-riddled water. “And shake the Monday away!”

Everybody else got in; splashing, squealing, shivering at the sudden impact of the cold water. Then with the red and white beach-ball Bridget had brought, we all teamed up for a game of volleyball. It wasn’t the easiest sport to play-especially not in water! But we did have more fun in mucking up the game than we did actually playing it. After two games, we just swam about, then let ourselves float awhile. Occasionally bumping into one another as we moved along. I could feel the sun, like a warm blanket against my skin, see it shining pink through my closed eyes. All around me was water of soft, aqua blue. The light reflecting off of the surface, streaming down through to the tiled floor. The very picture of summer, I thought, amusedly. Perhaps we should even have brought some bottle of coca cola.

“Hey, mind if we join you guys?” At the pool gate stood Anton. His dreads, kept at bay in a thick pony tail, completing the look with a Green Peace T-shirt and a pair of neon-green swimming shorts. Behind him, easily noticed, was Nicholas. Wearing much the same thing, only in softer, less clashing colours.

“I don’t- “

“The pools for everyone, isn’t it?” Ingrid interrupted, “Come on in, Anton.”

“Awesome-I didn’t think I’d see you here, Venus. I don’t normally see you at the swimming hole.”

“I don’t swim an awful lot, I must admit.” I lied, “But it is particularly warm today.”

“So, we thought we’d take a dip today, just to cool off.” Bridget added.

“Well, if you guys aren’t too tired, how about a game of Marco-polo? I know it’s old fashioned, but we need something to do in this lovely weather.”

We obliged, waiting as Anton and Nicholas began to take off their shoes and shirts. We already knew what Anton looked like in a pair of swimming trunks, so it was no surprised to see his top-half, bare. But when Nicholas took the hem of his red-brick coloured shirt and pulled it up and over, I found that I couldn’t look away. I knew he must’ve been strong; whenever he held me down, or so much as grabbed my arm, the strength was always there. But to actually see that he was muscular because of it…it was certainly something to get used to. He was so…toned, tanned and defined. Arms, corded with muscle, a broad, smooth chest and... oh Christ. He had abs. Those…things Audrey liked to stare at whenever her and her friends would sit in at the football games. I didn’t know what they were exactly, but there was something so…oddly appealing about them. Like I wanted to touch them, or at the very least, brush the smooth-looking skin with my fingertips.

“Who wants to be Marco?” Anton called out, ripping my gaze away from Nicholas. And thank god too-any longer, and he would’ve known I’d been staring at him.

“I’ll be it!” Flora volunteered.

“Awesome. Please put on the magic blindfold and I will guide you into the pool. Give me a ten second head-start, then the game will begin.”

We all waded about, trying to find a tricky position as Flora gave the countdown aloud. Ingrid was over on the far, right corner; her favourite spot. Marlon, just a little behind Flora, Leo, leaning against the edge at the end, Bridget, who decided not to even play, was sitting, reclined on her beach-towel, and Nicholas and Anton were at the other end of the pool, leaning lazily against the edge. Nicholas, looking annoyingly like an underwear model, or one of those celebrities in the centre of a teenagers’ magazine. I didn’t know if guys like that deserved to be so handsome when their hearts were so cold. Just look at Trevor: he was very good-looking, and his looks turned out to be the most deceptive thing about him. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. It was almost like the ‘Beauty and the beast’ concept, only reversed.

“Marco!” She called out, beginning to wade slowly through the water.

“Polo!” We called out. Flora stopped for a second, listening carefully. Most likely mapping out her strategy in her head.

“Marco!” She was ready this time: listening.

“Polo!” She took a step back, following a particular voice.

“Marco!”

“Polo!” Gradually, she waded towards Marlon. Hands outstretched, prepared to catch someone.

“Marco?” She was close now, and she knew it. A little, half-smile gracing the left-hand corner of her mouth.

“Polo.” Marlon tried to lower his voice, but to no avail. Flora had caught him, clapping in triumph as she tugged off the blindfold.

“You’re it now! Everybody else, good luck.”

Before Marlon could take the blindfold from Flora, a ringtone sounded faintly from one of the bags. Green sleeves on piano-mine. It must’ve been mum or Audrey, though why they were calling now, I couldn’t guess. Either way, it could be important.

“You’ll have to count me out for this round!” I said, climbing out of the pool. “I’ll just see who that is.”

Wiping my wet hands down with the towel, I fished through my swimming bag, located the plain, black-covered smartphone and swiping the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” Gretel? I wasn’t expecting a call from her for a few days.

“What?”

“We’re coming to visit! Dad just told us he wants to make our visit to Derby two weeks earlier than our planned date, so we’re booking some rooms at the Lemon’s lodge to come and stay in November! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Gretel, that’s great!” I said, genuinely excited. “How long will you be staying this time?”

“Just for a week. I’m taking the time out of school so I can’t really be away for too long.”

“How is school, by the way?”

“Accounting class has yet to give me anything challenging, business is getting rather interesting with our entrepreneur’s competition, and…I met someone!” She squealed the last part.

“You’d better have put more about it in your next letter.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have! His name is William, he’s seventeen, and I’ve sent you a picture of him in the upcoming letter. I’ve told him all about you, Hazel, and he says that once we’re old enough to go cross-country driving together, we can both visit for as long as we want.”

“He sounds great.” I chucked, “Do you think I can call you back later? We’re at the school pool and I’m being so viciously shouted at Ingrid to get back in the pool.”

“If you don’t, we’ll drag you back in!” She shouted from edge, trying to flick water at me.

“I’ll talk to you later then.” She agreed, giggling. “See you later, Snow White!”

“In a while, Briar Rose.”

She hung up, the dull-tone sounding just a few seconds later. Shrugging, I put the phone back safely, into the pocket of my swimming bag, then stood up to return to the pool. The group had quickly moved on from Marko-polo and were now engaging in a game of chicken. Anton and Bridget, against Flora and Marlon. Ingrid and Leo were talking amongst themselves and Nicholas was hanging around the other end of the pool by himself. Looking cool and sophisticated, but…lonely. I supposed that was something only he could fix on his own. He chose his company-not us.

Walking to the pool shouldn’t be hard, and it hasn’t been. Ever. The pool has a ladder, that makes it easy to get in. And it wasn’t that easy to slip on concrete. Therefore, I wasn’t certain what I’d stood on, but whatever it was didn’t take well to having people step on it, for my ankle caved in under my own weight. Normally when that happens, I was able to steady myself on my other foot, but the problem was that there wasn’t really anywhere else to step, just the edge of the pool. And surprise, surprise-that didn’t help me at all. I slipped, I fell, and on the way down, it seems I hit my head. The side of the pool, the awkward angle in which I fell, whatever it was I couldn’t say for certain. For by the time I hit the water, everything went dark and fuzzy. The deeper I sank, the less sense I began to make of everything. And then…then it was lost to me.

Nicholas

It was as if I were watching it unfold on a film screen, rather actually seeing it with my own eyes. She stepped on something-a bottle of suntan oil, I think, her ankle gave way, and she fell. Her body landing diagonally across the width end of the pool, hitting her head against the side. She floated, face-down, arms stretched, the slightest stream of red, staining the pool water. I swore to myself, I wouldn’t go through something like this again. Someone I knew, someone I was connected to, fading away before my eyes. I couldn’t let it happen again; not even to Hazel.

I swam to her, fast as I could, and hoisted her limp body above the water’s surface. Locating the pool’s ladder, I scrambled out, looking for a towel, a chair, whatever I could find. I needed to make her comfortable. If I could help her in any way, it’d at least be in making sure she wasn’t in too much pain.

“Hazel!” Her friend, Ingrid, her name was, came running over. Touching her head gently as I laid her down on a nearby towel. “Oh god, please be alright, please be alright…”

I didn’t know if she’d inhaled any water-good god, I hope she hadn’t. If I couldn’t be certain, there was just one option. CPR. I’d learnt it when I was sixteen; it was at a beach in Brighton, on a school field-trip. The first week was dedicated to learning water-safety and resuscitation-the last was entirely to surfing and drinking. The latter of course, being in secret. I was surprised, even at myself, to remember most of what we’d learnt on that trip. Counted compressions, pause, listen for breath, if that didn’t work, continue compressions and keep on checking for signs of consciousness. I counted my compressions precisely as I pumped at the spot between her breasts, making sure to do it quickly and carefully. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was doing all of this; just an urge, it seemed, to see her breathing again. Her lips red and healthy, colour back in her cheeks, and those fine, hazel eyes, full of concentration and curiosity, burning into me with every stare. Life was beautiful on her. Like a fur-coat or a silk-dress.

“Here, Anton knows CPR,” The blond one said, “Let him take over.”

“No.” I grunted, continuing. “It needs to be constant.”

“Let him help her!” Ingrid cried, her eyes full of fury as she glared. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?!”

“And what do you call leaving s**t on the floor for somebody to just step on and trip?” I snarled back at her, “If you’re worried I’m going to kill her, don’t. I don’t know what she’s told you- “

“She’s told us the truth.” The taller guy, Marlon seethed. “We don’t give a damn what you say about her; she’s our friend and we’re not about to believe some up-himself douchebag over a mate.”

What he said sounded harsh, but it woke me up. What was it supposed to look like to them, her friends? A guy who’s nearly killed her once, threatened to do it again, and brought her nearly-r****t to a place where she was supposed to feel safe and happy, trying to help her? I couldn’t blame them if they had trouble believing me. But right now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting her to breath.

After two sessions of compressions, I thought that perhaps there was just one, other thing I should’ve tried. It wasn’t something I ever dreamed of doing-not once. Hell, the very idea once made me sick. ‘What if she doesn’t come to?’ that voice-the voice of a guilty conscience whispered, ‘You once made it a priority to get rid of her-now, you just might get your wish. And when it’s not your even your wish anymore too’. I had to do it, I decided. Even if it meant doing something I never thought possible.

“Please wake up,” I said, barely a whisper. Leaning gradually towards her pale, purpling lips. “Please…”

I was just a couple of inches away from her lips, when I saw them twitch. I pulled back, and not a moment too soon, before she began to cough and heave. Water spilling from the corner of her mouth. Her lips were turning pink again, her skin still pale, but that was no surprise. Even in the sunshine, she never once surprised her porcelain complexion. Seeing the life, breathed back into her…I felt something. Something different towards her, a sort of softness. It was as if I was doing it for more than just to relieve my own guilt; as if seeing her well and safe made me happy-almost.

“Hazel!” Ingrid cried, flinging herself at the retching girl. “Oh god, I thought for a second you were…”

“So, did I,” She coughed. “Oh, Jesus! My head. What did I do to myself?”

“You took a little tumble, Venus.” Anton said, “A bottle of suntan oil had you landed in the pool. Now, how about we take a quick look at your head then we’ll call your parents.”

Anton didn’t touch the wound, thank god, but after looking he deemed it important enough for a doctor to look it over. And so, after helping Hazel to sit up, he and the girl in the pink bikini went to make some phone calls. Bridget, Marlon and the one with the glasses were gathering their things, Ingrid was sitting with Hazel, and she herself was trying to regain some understanding of what had just happened. Did she know? I wondered. Did she know I was just a few inches away from giving her mouth-to-mouth? I’d practically be kissing her, I thought with dismay. That’d be close. Far too close.

“Christ,” She groaned, leaning slightly against her friend. “Audrey is going to have a fit.”

Hazel

Mum and dad arrived in but a few minutes after being called. Mum’s eyes were full of worry upon seeing me, rushing over and asked about a dozen questions at once. What happened? How did I fall? How hard did I hit my head? Did I inhale any water by accident? All questions I was clearly unable to answer. Dad understood that and took mum aside for a minute, telling her gently to calm herself and bring the car around. Meanwhile, he turned to me, concerned but calm, and asked me if I was feeling dizzy or sore.

“Just a little disoriented,” I answered, still cupping the side of my head. “I don’t really know what happened.”

“She fell,” Nicholas jumped at the chance to answer. “There was a bottle of suntan oil on the ground-she must’ve slipped on that. She wasn’t in the water for long though-we got her out quickly enough.”

“Nicholas did, anyway.” Anton contributed. “You should’ve seen him-like aqua-man himself. Gave her CPR and everything!”

“H-He did?” I whispered.

“You’re lucky he’s learnt all that surf life-saving stuff-he did everything by the book.”

“God knows that the world needs more people learning this stuff.” Dad muttered, “Come on then, Hazel, let’s get you to the doctor. Can you stand?”

Taking dad’s hand, I tried to heave myself to my feet. A shot of pain went through my right ankle, shooting up my leg. Wincing, I grabbed hold of dad’s arm, resting my weight onto good foot and hobbling along as we made our way to the car. Great. A sore head and a sprained ankle. That ought to make getting to school tomorrow interesting. Then when we actually got to the car, I thought with dismay, ‘how in the hell am I going to get in?’. It was mum’s car that they’d driven here, and it was only a two door. That’d mean Nicholas and mum would have to slide into the back, and Nicholas was way, too tall to cram himself into mum’s back seat.

“I’ll get in first,” Nicholas proposed, “You lower her in, Mr. Kazia and I’ll ease her down.”

“Honestly, she’s not a thoroughbred!” Mum stressed, already seated in the driver’s seat.

Dad shrugged, lifting me so my good foot was propped on the floor inside the back seat of the car. Lowering me gently, as far as he could, until I felt Nicholas’s hands on my back. His touch wasn’t what it was before; not when we’d first met again. I suppose it was because back then, there was so much aggression in him, so much anger. Right now, he was neither angry nor aggressive, so perhaps that’s why it didn’t reflect in how he held me now. Warm, steady, secure. I didn’t think that a touch from him could ever feel like that.

“Give me your ankle,” He said gently, shuffling back to the far end of the seat. “You should keep it elevated.”

I lifted the bad leg, letting his warm hands cradle my ankle delicately. Feeling his hands against my skin only just reminded me that I was cold, and still in my bathing suit for that matter. Knowing my luck, mum’s clown-car would just end up smelling of chlorine until she found an air freshener, strong enough to cover it. I hope not, I thought. At best, we should only be at the doctor’s office for five to ten minutes, then back home for some much-needed rest. No more chlorine, no more headache, and no more swimming for at least two weeks!

“Say, Nicholas, I didn’t know you were going to the pool today.” Dad said, suddenly curious at Nicholas’s prescience.

“Neither did I-Anton invited me, and we met Hazel and her friends there. We played a bit of Marko Polo, until…”

“Well, in the end I suppose it’s a good thing you were there. When they mentioned the school pool, I was a little surprised. You’re such a good swimmer Hazel, I didn’t think…”

“That I’d step on some suntan oil, out of all things?” I tried to joke about it, which somehow seemed the best thing to do right about now. “It’s alright-at least I’m conscious enough to tell left from right.”

“Well, we’ll be at the doctor’s very soon-he should be able to confirm what we already know?”

“And that is…”

“That our daughter would never use suntan oil.” I chuckled along with them, and our old, private joke. In our family, it was common knowledge that mum, for unconfirmed reasons, hadn’t been born with the hereditary, olive complexion that grandma or every, other relative had before her, and hadn’t been able to gain it through ritualistic sunbathing. Because whenever she, Audrey, or even myself tried to, we’d only end up with painful sunburn. Not even suntan oil would work, so what was the use in even trying? Besides, I hated the stuff. It always smelt sickly-sweet and artificial, not like lavender. Lavender buds, from my bathing, was the scent I preferred. Not some imitation coconut and tropical mixture, concocted in a perfume lab.

“Ah, here we are!” Dad announced, as mum pulled up directly in front of the local doctor’s office. Traditionally a two-story building, the colour of robins-egg and cobalt-blue, the doctor’s office was located on the first story, and the doctor’s personal apartment, in the story above. The doctor here was a man named Simmons, who’d been in the practise for decades and living in Derby his entire life. It was this cotton-wool-haired, willowy man who rushed out from the front door and proceeded to assist mum and dad. Meanwhile Nicholas had gotten out through his side of the car and ran straight around to help me out. Taking both ankles in each hand, he eased my feet gently to the footpath and took me by my hands. I didn’t like being so useless, but with a bad ankle and an injured head, what else could I really do? Hell, I was accepting help from Nicholas, I was that bad.

“Young Hazel, it seems you’ve taken a bit of a tumble.” He said kindly, that doctorly, paternal warmth twinkling in his eyes. “Come on in, and we’ll take a look at your head. And you, young man, must be Nicholas. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir. That’s me.”

“Well, come with us and you can tell me exactly what you did. Wouldn’t want to miss anything important, would we?”

Nicholas put me arm around me and pulled mine around the back of his neck. And I… I’d never been this close to him before. At least, not when that touch didn’t involve some act of violence, and back then, I was always expecting it somehow. Not now. Not when he was actually trying to cause less pain than more. Taking that into thought, I wasn’t sure what to think of his touch, now that he wasn’t trying to hurt me. His hands were warm on my wrist and shoulder, his arms carrying a great amount of strength, the back of his neck unusually soft beneath the skin of my forearm. As human only, he was comforting. It’s a shame I’d never gotten to see it. At least, not before.

Ignoring those silly thoughts, I gradually limped my way into the warm confines of Doctor Simmons’s office, with Nicholas by my side. It was a homey sort-of place; plush, orange, armchairs, a varnished, wooden coffee-table and a neat, rectangular stack of old magazines made up the waiting room. Sun pouring in through the bay window, casting an angelic glow over the whole setting. We went through this area, and straight into the Doctor’s examination room; small, but efficient and equipped with everything he could possibly need for the standard check-up. In here, I was propped onto the examination bed, Nicholas taking a seat on one of the cushioned, iron-framed chairs as Doctor Simmons pulled on a clean pair of rubber gloves.

“Now, let’s check your vitals first, then listen to your breathing.” He said, “Don’t worry-it won’t hurt a bit.”

I let him do what a doctor usually does; holding a little torch in my eye, checking my reaction timings, then with his shiny-topped stethoscope, he listened to my breathing. He told me to breath in deep, then out again slowly. I did that about three times before he concluded that there was no concerning rattling’s in my lungs.

“Now, did you happen to cough up any water when you came to?”

“Just a little,” I replied.

“She was only in the water for a few seconds.” Nicholas added, “Just long enough for us to know that something was wrong.”

“Well, your vitals look good, but that bump on the noggin of yours seems to have given you a slight concussion. I think the best cure is a little pain-medication and some rest. Now, let’s just dress this wound and I’ll write up that prescription for you.”

The wound at the corner of my forehead, which turned out not to be so bad as to need any stitches, was cleaned, then bandaged sufficiently. As Doctor Simmons left to write out the prescription, Nicholas lifted me gently, from the bed and onto the ground. Now that I had a moment think about what happened today, I only came out confused, no matter how many outcomes I tried to think of. Nicholas showed up at the pool, him and Anton hung out with us, and we were actually having a good time. Then when I fell…he pulled me out of the water. He saved me. Why? Why would he want to save a life he so desperately wanted gone? I just didn’t understand. And after all of that, taking care of me, helping me to walk…perhaps he was allowing me a glimpse. A sign that he did have a heart, and that he was capable of using it. I do wonder…there might be more. If he could let me, the person he hated the most, see some of his kindness, then perhaps he’d let me see a little more. Someday.

“Are you okay to walk?” He broke me from my train of thought. Those cerulean eyes were just a little warmer than I remembered them. Ironic, considering the colour was the very meaning of cold.

“Yes-well, limp.”

“You ever twisted an ankle before?”

“Twice; once when I was climbing a tree, I ended up stepping on a pine cone when I jumped down.”

“And the other time?” Was he trying to make conversation?

“I was ice skating with Gretel-I stumbled and ended up spraining my right ankle. It was actually worse than this; the skates didn’t have much give so there for wasn’t much room for it to roll.”

“Ouch!” He chuckled quietly. “I’ve never twisted an ankle before-broken a leg though, and my arm in two places. The leg happened when I decided to try skateboarding for the first time! I wasn’t terrible at it, but this one day, my friend Andy talked me into doing something incredibly stupid. There was a railing, a ramp, and a stunt you’d probably only see on TV. We watched the video about a dozen times before trying it, but the one thing we hadn’t worked out was the timing. Timing, as it turned out, was particularly important. I was rushed to hospital, the doctors let me keep my X-rays, and mum-my parents gave me the typical lecture about sheer stupidity.”

It was true when my parents called him a very social being, for he didn’t stop talking! As if he didn’t remember, or care about what I’d said to him, that night Trevor showed up. It was like it didn’t matter who I was, just as long as I was willing to listen to all his exciting stories and compliment him on his bravery and brilliance, I expect.

“The first time I broke my arm was in primary school. We all did this thing where we’d climb up the monkey bars and show off how brave we were by walking on top of them. I was best at it, so my friend thought we should make it a little, more difficult. He dared me to run across the bars instead. Being my cocky self, I agreed to the challenge and had one of them time me so I could show off how quick I was. I got half-way across when my foot slipped on the side and I went flying. Suffice to say, I wasn’t the smartest ten-year-old in the world. My brains probably didn’t kick in until intermediate.”

It was such a nice, little story, even I couldn’t help but smile. Just imagining him as an arrogant, cheeky, little boy, daring to do something that could probably break his neck, but doing it anyway because it was fun. Because he could, and because he thought himself immortal. He was so…brave. Oh god, that was stupid! And coming from me too. Why was I even giving him the satisfaction? He might’ve stopped me from drowning, but I owed him nothing. Not when everything else he did outweigh any little amount of good.

“She smiles,” He said, “Who’d think? I can make the shy, little violet, Hazel Kazia smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling at you.” I reasoned, “I was smiling at the cute, little story.”

“Ah, but it was my cute, little story.” He retorted, “If I hadn’t of told it, you wouldn’t have smiled, so I did make you smile.”

“Alright, alright, you get one smile.” I conceded, “That doesn’t mean you get another one.”

“So? I don’t need your smiles. There’s nothing special about them.”

Then why was he so triumphant about getting one?

We met mum and dad in the waiting room. Doctor Simmons got me to sign the prescription form before informing my parents that he recommended giving me the rest of the school-week off in case the cut on my head should develop into anything serious. And, just as we were leaving, he called me back for a moment.

“Ah, and Hazel?”

“Yes, doctor?”

From his coat pocket, he pulled out a green lollypop, in a cellophane wrapper. Lime-my favourite.

“For being a good patient.”

“Thank you, Doctor Simmons.”

Nick gave me a funny look, turning away as we hobbled back over to the car. If it were for that but of curiosity, telling me to look back, I wouldn’t have seen it. A smile, gracing his perfectly shaped lips. Not a smirk, or a false grin to please the people around him, but a genuine smile. It looked good on him. He was already very handsome, in every standard, but the smile somehow illuminated those fortunate features, yet at the same time, dimmed the radiance so that it wasn’t as easy to notice. To see it, you’d have to look through the surface, the rose-tinted glass, and search for something more. Something true. And what seemed true to me now was that Nicholas was very good at hiding his true emotions. If I was the only person he was willing to let see something real, then he must have had something to keep from my parents, from his friends.

“Come on, love.” Dad sighed, lowering me back into the back seat of the car. “Let’s go home.”

Home. Warmer clothes, a plush couch, hot food and a nice, long sleep. Yes, home sounded like just the thing we all needed.

***

When we got back, Audrey was worried to death. Plucking me straight from Nicholas’s arms, she set me down on the couch, foot rested comfortably on a puffy, mink cushion, and rushed back upstairs to get me a fresh change of clothes. I had to admit, being out of that bathing suit felt much better. There was only so much I could take of chlorine, clinging to my skin, and the nightly chill, sending Goosebumps over my arms and legs. Donned in a pair of purple leggings and a loose, cotton, peasant-style dress, I ate my dinner in the living room for a change. Homemade, tomato soup, with buttered tiger-skin bread. Something mum often made when anybody in the house was sick or injured. Heaven knows how much of it she made after finding out about Nicholas. I…I shouldn’t say that now-not when I knew what it implied. After all, she and dad were the ones who worked as hard as they could to protect me for all these years; the least I could do was be grateful for that alone. Still, it made me think of those times because I wanted so badly for her tomato soup to just sooth and heal everything, like it did with injuries or hurt feelings. It didn’t work back then, but perhaps it was helping a little now.

After the very last of the soup was mopped away with the remaining chunk of bread, I limped soundlessly into the kitchen to take my bowl up to the sink. I’d almost managed to get away with rinsing it before mum caught me out and told me she could do that herself.

“You need to get some rest,” She said, pointing to the living room. “You heard the doctor-no school for the rest of the week, and stay off the ankle for as long as you can help it. Now go and put your foot back up and watch some TV.”

“Yes mum,” I sighed, smiling at her.

I tried watching some TV with dad-reruns of Allo Allo and some Dad’s Army, but after a while, I began to long for my own bed. But…crap, how was I going to get back up those stairs, with a twisted ankle? I could ask Audrey for a hand, but I wasn’t sure how that was going to work. I’d still need to put weight on my bad foot, and getting up those steps at my pace would take too long for Audrey’s patience to stretch. Maybe if I hopped? No, too risky. What if I missed a step, and ended up falling down? That staircase was lethal. My only solution would be just to ask for help. Of all the days to live in a two-story house…

“Dad, would you mind terribly giving me a hand? I want to go to bed.”

“No need to ask, love. Give me your arm and we’ll get you up there in a jiffy-”

“No, please.” Nicholas interrupted, “Allow me.”

“You don’t need to- “Dad was trying to make an excuse, only for Nicholas to cut him off again.

“I’m going to bed myself, so we might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He said, turning to me. “May I?”

My first instinct was to say no-thus far, the only reason Nicholas had wanted to see me alone was to taunt me and call me silly names. But after today…it shouldn’t make such a difference. I knew that. And yet, it did. He had the perfect chance to let me drown, but he didn’t. He saved me. He performed perfect CPR, he never stopped once, and when my parents came to take me to the doctors, he actually did all he could to help me move around. It was the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe, he could think of me as a human being. Perhaps, in time, he could even grow it like me a little. That wasn’t supposed to erase years’ worth of trauma and pain, but I knew that if I trusted him, just for tonight, to help me, he wouldn’t go back on his word. Maybe tomorrow he’d just go back to his usual antagonism, but that wasn’t for a few hours yet. I still had a few, short minutes this evening to witness his humanity.

“Yes, thank you.”

He didn’t have to pick me up-at least, not like that. Hooking one arm under my knees, and the other behind my back, making my head press up against his firm chest. My ear, resting directly over his beating heart. A strong, but yielding metronome. A person could fall asleep to this rhythm-then it occurred to me, had they? I knew he was a good-looking guy; very good-looking, and no doubt, popular with women, but…no. It was none of my business, and what’s more, I shouldn’t care. Besides, his attitude towards women, not to mention his self-confidence and his body language told me that girls were a no-brainer to him. That being said, why was I even thinking any of this?

“Umm, you can put me down now, if you want.” I mumbled, noting that we’d already made it to the landing.

“You’re just going to have to limp back to your room. I might as well take you straight there, it’ll be easier that way.”

I could’ve argued that I didn’t feel safe, being held by him. But that would be a lie. Despite myself, I did feel safe, and warm, and comfortable, being cradled in his strong arms. I felt the way a thirteen-year-old would feel, being touched by a boy for the first time. What was once a simple hug or shake of the hand, had suddenly become a lot more. I never got that feeling when I was younger-hugging Leo or Marlon was just as straightforward as it had always been, and since Trevor…I wish I knew why it was different now. Especially when it was the boy I couldn’t stand.

Dismissing the thoughts, I was brought back to now when he crossed the threshold into my bedroom. He’d never seen the inside before, and I think it surprised him to see all the photographs on my wall, with the occasional movie poster. Audrey had vouched for my skills as a photographer in training, but to see him actually looking at my work was different. Different and-satisfying, to see his genuine surprise at my photographs. And the biggest print, one of my proudest pieces, a scenic view of Lilac Lake. It took me so many tries to get that shot. So many days, looking for the perfect weather, the perfect sunlight, and trying to find the exact position in which to take the picture. I had the vision in my mind beforehand, it was just a matter of doing whatever I could to bring that vision to a reality.

“Are these all yours?” He asked me, still a little in awe.

“Not counting the movie posters.” I replied, giving a tiny laugh. “They’re my favourites-and my best memories.”

“I can see that,” he said, noting one particular photo of myself, Ingrid, Bridget and Flora, the night of our year eight social. It was the first time I was really allowed to get dressed up for something-and in a proper, grown-up dress too. Ingrid, who hadn’t shed the baby-fat from her face, looked youthful, but still pretty in her silver mini-dress. Bridget had opted for something more feminine than her usual taste in a beaded, aquamarine frock. Flora, in baby-pink tulle, like a ballerina princess. And me, wearing a dress Audrey and grandma had picked out together. A scallop-neck, rose-red, 1950s dress-complete with crinoline, and the daintiest pair of satin, black ballet-flats. It was as if we were all like fairy-tale princesses, going to the most important party of our lives. The party where people would stop thinking of us as children, and see us as beautiful, young adults.

“Umm…I think you can put me down now.”

“Oh-yes. Yes, of course.”

He lowered me down so I was perched on the foot of my bed, dropping down beside me. Elbows resting on his knees. From there we just sat, in a strange, uncomfortable silence, until he was the first to break it.

“Listen, Hazel, about what happened…” He looked at me, trying to guard his real emotions. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I don’t want you as my enemy.”

“Then why do you treat me like one?”

“I don’t know,” He sighed, turning his head so that I couldn’t see the eyes, hidden beneath his hair. Guarding himself from me, it seemed. “Why don’t you? I mean, I’ve done all these things to you, and you still let me stay here? You could’ve gone to your parents, and they would’ve kicked me out without a second-thought, but you didn’t. Why?”

He was asking me this now? Why not before? He was picking the unlikeliest time to be rational in conversation. But I suppose if this niceness extended to actually talking to me, then I ought to take advantage of it. Who knows? Maybe it might help in the future.

“Because my conscience said you needed a home more than you needed punishment.” I confessed, never taking my gaze away from him. I wanted him to look at me-hear what I was saying. It was important. “When a boy you knew ten years ago has lost his family, and has nowhere else to live, would you have the heart to deny him parents who will take care of him without even hesitating?”

“God, you can’t be for real,” He snickered, looking at me with a smile more bitter than sweet. “I don’t get you, Hazel, how can you be so nice? You’ve got every reason to hate my guts, you say you’ll never forgive me for what I did, and yet you’re still giving me the time of day?”

“It’s because I don’t spend my life being bitter about every, bad thing that’s happened to me.” I sighed through my teeth, I couldn’t believe I was talking about this with him. “If I did that, how I could I ever enjoy life? I didn’t hold a grudge because I thought that after ten years, you would’ve been more mature than that. And I tried to pin your dislike towards me on what happened to your family, because I couldn’t begin to imagine how it would feel to lose mine. Then that business with Trevor…it’s funny, isn’t it? You’ve been my bully, far longer than he ever has, and I could never bring myself to hate you the way I hate him. Why? What is the one fault in him that you don’t have?”

“I don’t force myself on underage girls.” He grunted, on the defensive. “I might’ve been a lot of things, but a paedophile isn’t one of them.”

“I suppose it’s refreshing.” I said, taking my turn to look away. Part of me would always want to hide my feelings for him, no matter how easier it got between us. “There were many things you did do, but one thing that you wouldn’t. One thing I wouldn’t have to expect from you.”

There was another, long pause. This one more painful than the first. Unspoken thoughts and feelings lingering in the air, hovering over us like a storm-cloud, on the verge of raining. Neither of us dared to run away for shelter, like cowards. If we were going to confront the storm of conflict, we’d do it head-on.

“I don’t hate you, Hazel.” He finally said, surprising me. “I never did. I hated what I saw of myself in you, but it wasn’t just you. It’s like…I don’t know. It’s like you were taunting me. You had something; something I felt ashamed of, and you accepted without hesitation. I hated it, and I thought that meant I hated you.”

“Nicholas, why are you telling me all this?” The words stung, sharp as a needle, and yet I needed to know why they were said. “I just don’t understand.”

“Frankly, I don’t either. I just don’t want you as my enemy; not anymore. I don’t think we could be friends, but if we could just be…something else, do you think that would work?”

“Yes,” The answer was easy to give. “I’d like that.”

He held his hand out, much like the first time he came here, initiating what I understood to be a more-or-less peace offering. Something to build a bridge between two, opposing sides. A way for two enemies to become not friends, but two people in this world who could coexist with one another. In dire times, we’d become allies, on the street we could look at one another, perhaps even say ‘hello’ or comment on the weather. We weren’t friends-never friends. But he wanted to stop being my enemy and I had no trouble in accepting that. If he would not antagonize me, then I would do the same for him.

And so, I placed my hand in his much bigger, rough-skinned palm. Squeezing the muscled flesh just slightly as we shook them both. As if we were meeting for the first time, properly now, as young adults. Both fresh and mature of mind, both young and opinionated, both wanting some sort of common ground. I now lived with a stranger called Nicholas; he was confident, smart, talented and very handsome. He liked swimming and sports, and he could eat twice as much as I could. Perhaps one day, we could become friends. But not just yet. We still had to get to know one another first.

“Oh-and, I don’t normally go by Nicholas so…Nick. Just call me Nick.”

“Nick,” I liked it. “Alright then, but only if you call me Hazel and not Kazia.”

“Agreed,” He smiled; another nice, natural grin that seemed to brighten the cerulean pools of his eyes. “Hazel’s a nicer name anyway.”

After he left my room, Audrey came in a while later to watch a movie with me. Fog over Frisco. A film noir about two, very different sisters. One was the timid daughter of a business man, the other a beautiful but dangerous femme fatale, involved with American gangsters. Amidst the black and white, and the intentionally tense music, we began to grow sleepy until Audrey was the first of us to nod off. Snoring quietly as she nuzzled into my shoulder. Before I followed her suit, I took just a minute to reflect on what had happened today. I went swimming, Nicholas was there, I could’ve drowned, and he saved my life. Every step I had to take, he was there beside me, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any stranger, he was the first of us to call an official truce. And to prove it, he shook my hand and even asked me to call him Nick. Now it was as if he were a different person. Nicholas was the boy I remembered; the rotten, mean, little tyrant who made my sixth year a misery. But Nick-he was different. He was a boy with a broken heart, but still had a heart, underneath all that faux angst. Nick had the potential to make something good of his life-with my families help. Nicholas, I might’ve resented but Nick…maybe Nick and I could make a very, good team. Maybe.