Scarred Roses

Chapter 9 part 2-pleasant surprises

I tried to push it out of my mind as I scraped through the last class of the day-History. Today we started watching the biographical film on Medgar Evers; sad, knowing what will happen at the end, but so far, it was a good movie. That, I found, was easy. Taking notes, paying attention, partaking in the jelly-babies. It was the walk to Lilac Park, I started thinking about them again. Seriously, why haven’t I ever noticed before? Whenever Leo paid her a compliment, she had this strange way of blushing like a beetroot. Or when they were watching a sad, or scary scene in a movie, I’d sometimes see his hand, covering hers in a comforting grip. How could I not put two and two together? They fancied each other, and they didn’t even know it. But I couldn’t just let Flora shove them together! Not with the kind of things she had in mind. Once Flora got an idea in her head, it took a lot of ingenuity to stop her before she did any damage.

Once I saw Lilac Park come into view, a little of that worry began to lift from my shoulders. I was alone; nobody to fuss and hover, nothing but the grass and the trees to keep me company. It still niggled at me though, as I found a decent spot to take my shoes off, so I could wander about, barefoot. Still, the niggling was faint. And as the cool, soft grass tickled my ankles, the niggling only grew fainter. Walking-no, running to the Lilac Trees near the lake, I dumped my school-bag and fell down into the grassy bank. Arms stretched above my head, sun kissing my smiling face, breeze rocking the lake-water, blurring that crystal-shine.

“I thought I’d find you here,” I didn’t expect for him to come here, then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I think ever since he followed me here last week, I suspected he’d taken a bit of a liking to Lilac Lake. That, and I think he was curious. He wanted to see my reaction to what he’d done for me, for Audrey. He probably wanted to know if I was shocked. “It’s your go-to place whenever you don’t want to be around people.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Easy guess,” He shrugged, dropping down beside me. “People overcrowd you sometimes, make you feel constricted. You become different with them, quieter.”

“Alright, I’m curious.” I said, giving in. “Tell me, Doctor Phil, how am I different?”

“You pull back, somehow. When it’s just you and your friends, you’re pretty good to talk with. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re at ease. But when you’re with a bunch of people who just hang around you, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you draw back into yourself. It’s what Alice…it’s what Alice used to do.” He mumbled, the name tripping out of his lips. He never mentioned his parents, but whenever Alice came up in conversation, he could barely look anyone in the eye. When a group of people pass away, you miss them all in different ways. Sometimes, you even miss one more than the other. Was that the case with Nick? “It’s not uncommon in introverts, my teacher told me.”

“Which teacher?”

“Law,” He answered, “It’s all about getting to know your suspects; introverts, extroverts, nervous ticks…”

“Sounds like you’re handling Legal studies just fine.” I replied politely. “Anything new in English?”

“Yes, actually. Profiling. I’ve got to write down an avid description for Nick Carraway, in regard to our main themes of the book. The American dream, judgement, lies/secrets, and my all-time favourite; unaddressed sexuality. So, do you think you could give me some pointers?”

“Well, get out your exercise book, because you’ll be taking notes.” I instructed. He chuckled, but did as I said. Pen at the ready, eyes intently on me. “What was your first impression of him?”

“Well, I wasn’t even sure if he was a character or not,” He replied, jotting it down. “Like he was just watching the beginning of all this, not being part of it. Then when I got into the first, two chapters, I didn’t really like him all that much.” Hmm, that was surprising! Most people I knew who read the book couldn’t get enough of Nick. “I mean, it’s normal for the narrator to remain neutral and not have any part in anything, but he’s not a narrator, is he? He get’s a say in what happens, and when something wrong happens, what does he do? Nothing! When he knows his cousin’s, husband is cheating on her, he doesn’t do s**t. He just sits there at their stupid party and talks to a bunch of random people. When Gatsby is humiliating by the said-husband, Nick doesn’t do anything to defend him; and Gatsby’s supposed to be his mate.”

“So, you think Nick should’ve spoken up?”

“Yes. If it was my cousin being cheated on, or my friend being treated like s**t, I wouldn’t have just stood aside and let it happen. It’s not what a decent person does.”

“So, he dances around the truth then,”

“He’s a hypocrite,” Nick scoffed, “He get’s all high and mighty about other people lying, when he’s the one helping to maintain those lies, not diminish them!”

“Alright, so have you written all that down?”

“Yeah-you told me to.”

“Then grab your work-sheet. We’re going to turn your rants into satisfactory answers.”

He did as I said, taking out his profile sheet, with the picture of Nick Carraway from the 1975 film printed in black and white. Pen poised in hand, awaiting my instruction.

“Just look back on what you said and zero in your answer on the theme of the question. It’s as simple as that.”

He did that as I waited, humming to himself, forming the words aloud, occasionally asking me how to spell certain words. When we moved on to the other categories, it worked very much the same way. I knew Nick was smart; he got enough praise on it from my parents, even before he came here. But when he became passionate about something, I don’t think he knew just how profound he could be. If he could find some emotional or moral link to a character or story, he could use that to find the answers he was looking for. It wasn’t an uncommon ability; it was how we found getting through year twelve English, rather easy.

“That was…easy. How do you do it? Let the words just pour out like that?”

“Believe it or not, it helps to be talking with somebody about it.” I explained, “When you can express all those ideas with a likeminded person, the answer comes naturally, because it doesn’t feel like you’re being forced to find the answer.”

“So, the answer’s only good if it comes from your own, free will?”

“In a way, yes. My grandfather just calls it a loosening of the brain; if it’s just part of every day conversation, it doesn’t feel as constricted because you’re not in a constricting environment, are you?”

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” He said, looking both bemused and impressed. “I honestly don’t think I would’ve figured that out on my own…thanks.”

“I think it ought to be me thanking you.” I said, coming back to the subject I was happy to avoid. “You bought Audrey that pregnancy test for me, why?”

“I knew you would’ve asked me that.” He sighed, reaching over to play with the edge of his collar. I remembered that habit…Nick’s mother, Mira used to play with the hem of her dress in an eerily similar way. “You were willing to face rumours and unavoidable questions, just to help out your sister, and it just…. reminded me of something.” Of Alice. He didn’t need to speak the name-it was all, too obvious.

“If you don’t want to talk about her- “

“No, it’s fine. I suppose I ought to talk about it sooner or later…” It looked as if a weight had been placed upon his shoulders. “I was willing to do anything for Alice; ever since Erick left, I felt out of place. I’d always had a big brother, but then when he disappeared, there was a role to fill and mum and dad were expecting me to fill it. And so, I tried to be the best big brother; I’d beat up any kid who tried to pick on her, scare any boy that so much as looked at her, yell at any adult or teacher who said that she was anything less that the awesome kid I knew her to be. I really did think I was doing a good job; I suppose in the end, I could never do enough.

“Your parents knew how the accident, happened-but they don’t know what happened before. You see, after Alice turned twelve, she’d been going to this boarding school. It was the best in the country, and she was doing well in her classes, but the other girls there…she never told mum and dad what was going on, just me. She said she didn’t want them to worry. After she came back for the holidays though, with a black eye and a broken wrist…I told her it was time to tell them the truth. We sat down with them, she explained everything, and at first, they seemed understanding. I thought they were finally going to take her out of that school and enroll her in the public school I was going to. I’d be able to keep an eye on her there; make sure she’d never get picked on again. The next day, they told us that Alice would be going back there. I was furious with them! They saw what happened to her, Alice told them the truth! God only knows she could never tell a straight-out lie to anybody. But when I asked them, they just said they paid a lot of money for her education and that Alice needed a thick skin. A thick skin!” He spat, laughing bitterly. “She was a thirteen-year-old girl! What she needed was her family to be there for her. Instead, they just wanted to save a few bucks. I was disgusted with them; they could punish me all they wanted, but Alice…Alice never did anything wrong. She didn’t deserve to live with a bunch of spoiled, little bullies who tormented her at every opportunity.

“On the day they were supposed to be taking her back to the school, we had this huge fight. I asked them what kind of parents they were, pushing her back towards her bullies. I told them if they really cared about their daughter, they’d call that school right this minute and tell them she wasn’t going back. Or was money too important to them? Was Alice just another investment? They said some things. Boy, did they say some vicious things! Said I was a hypocrite, talking about bullies when I was quite the bully myself. They asked why I wasn’t like my picture-perfect brother, why I was so much trouble, why I didn’t amount to anything? I knew they were just angry when they said that, but I think deep down, a part of them meant it. I was never as good as Erick and I never would be, but I knew that already. Having them rub it in…it was the worst thing they’d ever done to me. God, I hated them so much then, I just wanted them gone. I didn’t want to see them again. Guess what? I got my wish.” His eyes began to water, fresh with what appeared to be tears. Nick, crying? “I wanted my parents to be gone, and they left! Now I’ll never see them again.”

I wanted to reach over and put my arms around him. I wanted to hold him close and tell him it was going to be alright. I wanted to give him the comfort I felt he should’ve had long ago, if he wasn’t so cold-hearted. But even now, I couldn’t be so forward. We had only just become friends; I didn’t know what he would think of me suddenly hugging him, out of nowhere. Instead, I did something smaller, something that could be just as easily misinterpreted. I slid my hand through the short span of grass that separated us and covered his much bigger, suntanned hand with my own. I saw the small look of surprise on his face, and thought immediately that it was a bad idea. But as I started to pull back, I just about mirrored his surprise when I felt his hand turning beneath my palm, and his fingers lacing tightly through my own. Connecting us properly. What would people think if they saw this? What would my sister say if she saw this? Probably that I was mental, perhaps. That holding his hand would’ve been very much like dipping it into a tank full of hungry sharks. Making it was a bit of a risk, doing something so bold, but it wasn’t hurting either of us, and from what I could see, was actually giving him a bit of comfort.

“You know, we actually have something in common.” He finally spoke, slowly pulling our hands into his lap. “We’ll do anything for the people who matter. That’s why I got that pregnancy test for Audrey; I knew that you’d do it, even if it scared you. You love her, and she loves you.”

“Well, we’re sisters.” I said, unable to fight the nostalgic smile. “Audrey never made me feel like a nuisance, not like Ingrid and her sisters. She was always there for me, so I owe it to her to be there when she needs me too.”

“Unconditional loyalty,” He sighed, smiling wistfully. “Did you ever read Winnie the Pooh when you were a kid?”

“Yes, mum used to read it to us before bed.”

“All the characters…they never stopped caring about each other. It didn’t matter if they had nothing in common, or if they kept screwing up-they just loved one another, unconditionally.”

We took this quiet moment for ourselves as we sat there, hands entwined, looking out on the lake and all its’ immortal beauty. Friends could hold hands, I thought, and usually it was fine. Just as long as it was on an appropriate moment, like this, in a place where there was nobody to judge or make assumptions. Nick and I would make close friends, I decided. After today, telling me all about Alice and the accident…you didn’t just tell a person something so personal, if you didn’t consider them worth telling it to. That was my belief, anyway. And since he had confided something to me, I wonder if I could do the same with him? No, not just yet. I’d have to wait, to make sure it really was safe. In the meantime, I just wanted to enjoy this moment. Admiring nature, the secure warmth of his hand holding mine, and such a beautiful sunset…wait, sunset?

“Crap,” I hissed, glancing down at my phone. “I’m supposed to be home in a few minutes-Audrey wanted to talk to me about today.”

“I guess we’d better go then,” He concurred, “I’m starving anyway.”

I let go of his hand, feeling strange without the warmth of his skin against mine, so I could pick up my school bag. Shoes still in hand, I continued to walk barefoot as we left the park and walked along the grassy path, beside the unmarked, gravelled road. Just taking the short-cut through the paddock made the journey just quick enough to get home in time for mum to glance at the white-faced clock that read five O’clock on the dot. With a sign and a smile, she informed us that tea would be ready in an hour, and that she hoped we had time to get our homework done while we were at the park. Taking that as my cue to go and finally get the full story on what was going on with my sister, I dashed upstairs, dumping my shoes and my bag into my bedroom before tentatively knocking on Audrey’s door. I waited for the sickly croak ‘come in’ before I dared to slip through the opened door and steal a glimpse. To my relief, the windows were open this time, and Audrey was dressed in different clothes. Albeit, the most tattered sweat-clothes she had, but still an improvement from the sweat-drenched pyjamas she had on this morning.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her cautiously, tip-toeing towards her bed. I’d also noted that she wasn’t quite as pale as she looked this morning, but then, that could just be the light.

“A little worn-out, but I’ve been worse. The vomiting has nearly worn off; it’s just the nausea and the headache that’s left.”

“And the test?” I had to know. Whatever happens, I’d be there for her.

“It’s…it’s negative.” She sighed, wearing an expression that was neither sad nor relieved. “I should’ve known it would be. It was too soon for one, and I’ve only just started my period today.”

“So, if this is wearing off, how much longer do you think it’ll take?”

“I’m hoping it’ll be gone by tomorrow morning. In the meantime…I wanted to talk to you.”

I sat down on the bed beside her, shuffling closer as she held her arm out for me. This felt like we were going to have one of those sisterly talks, as she put it. I hadn’t really told her much about Nick, or how we’d become friends. I didn’t think she’d have noticed, or minded too much. After today though, I couldn’t blame her for being curious. He did something nice for her, without so much as a peep to mum and dad. She was probably wondering, what’s the catch?

“I was wondering about Nick. Ever since the pool incident, he’s been different-around you, I mean. It’s not like he’s gone from being a complete scumbag to an angel, just like that, but something’s been different with him. Take today for example; he told me he guessed that I was after something from the chemist, and that he pestered you for answers. He wouldn’t tell me why he bought the test instead of you, though I did ask him. I wondered if you knew; the two of you did talk at some point, this morning. Did he offer to go to the chemist instead?”

“No,” I answered earnestly, “He knew I was willing to go through with it. I was calling mum to see if she was home before I went to the chemist, and that’s when she told me Nick had gone for me.”

“Which is what I don’t understand! He did something very kind and it wasn’t like him. Nothing like how he’s been behaving since he came here. Hazel…did he do anything that seemed overly friendly?”

“Like what?”

“I forget how naïve you can be sometimes,” She chuckled, hugging me tighter. “Was he overly friendly? Did he try something with you?”

Try something?! Oh…

“No! Nothing like that.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to ask. I didn’t want him hurting you like that; not when you’ve worked so hard to put it behind you.”

“I know Audrey, and I supposed that would be more believable than what we have been talking about.” I needed to tell her; it’s not as if it needs to be kept a secret. “We’ve just been…talking. About the world, about artists, about the Great Gatsby: talking.”

“Just talking?” She was definitely surprised, as I expected her to be. “Alright, what brought it on?”

“It was after I hurt my ankle,” I explained, “When he carried me up to my room, we talked about our predicament. He decided that he didn’t want me as his enemy anymore, because if we were going to live together, it would be easier on everyone if we just learned to get along. And so after that, we would talk, like regular friends would. I don’t think he’s bad Audrey, just…bitter. Really bitter and lost. I think he was confused with what to think of me when we met again, felt he had to hate me because that’s all we really knew with each other. And then, when he brought Trevor to the café, I think that what I said to him convinced him to re-access his anger. He needed somebody to blame on everything bad that has ever happened to him, and I was his perfect target.”

“Hazel, that doesn’t excuse what he did!”

“I know it doesn’t, and no amount of bonding could ever erase that. But if there’s a chance that we can be friends now, I’m going to take it. If not for my sake, then for mum and dad’s sake. They suffered because of us before, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Hazel, you never made them suffer! It was him who did it. He tried to tear our family apart!”

“Audrey, I know what happened-I was there. I’m just trying to find a way we can all live together. If we can do that in peace, then maybe it’ll all be for the best.”

“Personally, I can’t really see how I can share your optimism, but…” She hesitated. She knew what I wanted to do, and she understood why. “If you’re safe, then I trust you. Just let me know if he tries anything; I don’t want you to have to face another Trevor.”

“He’s not like Trevor-I know he’s not,” This time, I was confident in what I said. Despite my earlier suspicions, Nick couldn’t be more different to that…that boy. And I was grateful for it. Because comparing the two was beyond pointless, and frankly, sickening. Nobody would want to be compared to somebody like him. “He’s not really a monster; he acts like one sometimes, there’s a difference.”

“I know Hazel,” She sighed, bowing down into the top of my head. “But it’s our job to protect each other from the bad guys; monsters or not. So, until I can trust him with you, I’m always going to protect you.”

“Does that mean I can be protective too? We don’t know who gave you that roofie. I bet Thomas will be trying to find out.”

“Hazel…he doesn’t know yet. I’m calling him over tonight to tell him; until then, could you not say anything?”

“Of course! What point would there be if you’re telling him anyway?” My reward was another, tight squeeze, and a quick kiss through my hair. Cuddle therapy, she called it. Strangely enough, it was an actual service in some places! On the internet, you can find somebody in your area to come to your house and cuddle with you for a negotiated fee per hour. Semi-creepy, semi-clever. But as Audrey claimed, she got her cuddle therapy for free. In a sister who was willing to take every hug, every kiss, every tickle-attack to ensure she was happy.

“Hazel?” It was mum, calling from the hall. “Where are you?”

“In here mum!” I called, giggling with my arms around Audrey’s waist.

“You should keep your distance if Audrey has a bug,” She warned, appearing at the doorway with a weary smile. “I don’t want you getting sick as well.”

“Hazel has a good immune system,” Audrey reasoned, kissing me again. “We were just talking anyway; nothing to worry about.”

“Well then, Hazel do you mind getting the laundry in for me before dinner? I think it might rain tonight.”

“Sure mum, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Audrey had decided to emerge from her room once more, to watch her adored soap-operas while dad was still out in the paddocks, watching over welly-our favourite, Friesian heifer. She’d come down with something over the weekend, which meant she couldn’t milk properly. I did hope she’d be alright; we’ve had welly since she was just a little calf, back in 2014. Most calves were quite timid when they first arrived, and it took them a while to get used to humans. That was never the case with Welly. The day she arrived, she came straight up to dad and gave him a big, wet lick across the knuckles. The same went for the rest of us when we went over to greet her. Now she’d grown into a great, big, milking cow; the matriarch of her herd. Even I could tell that they were worried. Bothersome and agitated without their cow-in-command to guide them. I just hoped whatever she had was fixable. Anything that would let us hold onto her just a year or two longer.

The laundry basket was already loaded, and sitting on one of the table-chairs by the time I made it to the kitchen. Nick and dad’s clothes-of course. Since we had a water-bill to keep an eye on, we usually did our laundry in groups. Mine and mum’s together, Nick’s and dad’s together, and Audrey had one to herself. Sometimes it felt as if we were indulging her a little, but when she insisted that she be the one to handle all her delicate’s, like the kind of lingerie mum would’ve only worn on her wedding night, we were all to grateful for it. One snag in those cotton-thread-thin panties and G-strings, and there would’ve been hell to pay.

Placing the basket down, onto the uneven gravel, I took a wad of shirts and started to peg them down. I hadn’t seen much of Nick’s choice in clothing, having failed to pay attention, but right away, I could tell which ones were his and which ones belonged to dad. Dad’s general wardrobe consisted of plaid farm-shirts, and printed T-shirts with cheesy jokes and his favourite cartoon-character; Popeye. Nick’s was more toned down and surprisingly fashionable. Lot’s of button-ups, three-quarter sleeve shirts in shades of blue and green-colours that complimented his complexion. He also possessed a surprising number of skinny-jeans, an article of clothing that was popular about five years ago. Didn’t really bother me. He had decent taste, for a guy.

“I thought you could use a hand,” How could he sneak up on me, when walking on this gravel made it impossible? “I don’t usually have other people hanging out my laundry.”

“Be my guest,” I said, gesturing to the basket. “Scared I’m going to find some secret, leopard-printed speedos you wear when nobody else is home?”

“I do not have leopard-print speedos!” He said in mock-horror. “They’re zebra-print briefs. God, get it right!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for confusing your underwear fetish!” I laughed, “Leopard-prints seem to be all the rage in the fetish-prone.”

“Tried them once-didn’t make me feel…sexy, you know?” By now, I think I was choking back my laughter. “Now, I like the tightness and the freedom of the zebra-prints. Plenty of room to dance.”

“Firstly; that’s a very disturbing image. And secondly, you can’t associate tightness and freedom with the same thing.”

“Shows how much you know! There can be a lot of freedom in the tightness of sexy underwear. It’s like I’m wearing nothing at all.”

“You, are sick.” I scoffed, hanging up another of dad’s T-shirts. Homer Simpson, riding a doughnut.

“Am not-I’m just comfortable with my sexuality.” He grinned, picking up a shirt to peg down. “How about you? No secret fetishes of your own?”

“No.”

“Come on! Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one.”

“Not even a mask fetish?” He said, quirking a playful eyebrow.

“Are you kidding?”

“Some weirdo’s have them! I’ll wager, even a few at school. If I’m going to this Halloween, masquerade thing, I’ll have to know who to avoid.”

“You’re going to that?” I was genuinely intrigued; I didn’t think those sorts of parties were his kind of thing.

“Thought I might; there’s a certain charm in wearing a mask. Like you’re protected, sort of, from the eyes of others. Then again, dressing up is a little juvenile.”

“And I don’t think that sexy, zebra-print will make a favourable impression on the girls.” I replied smartly.

“You know, I did think that you were smarter than I what expected, but now I see that you’re also mean!”

He started to chase me around the clothes-line, seemingly after some light-hearted revenge. I ran, giggling, one of his school-shirts still sopping wet in my hands. It was like playing cat and mouse again, but vastly different. Back then, it was never a game for me. Whenever I ran from him, whenever I hid, I prayed to god he wouldn’t find me. I willed myself to be invisible, so maybe, just maybe, I could survive another day in my life, unscarred and unscathed. This time, as we played, it was played with every intention of laughing and having fun. I had passed the washing-line now, sprinting across the backyard, teasing him at every opportunity. Laughing at his attempts to catch me, sticking my tongue out like a schoolgirl, goading him into a mixture of humour and frustration. I was having fun. With him. And for a while, I didn’t care who saw, or what they could say.

“You know I’m faster than you!” He shouted, close behind me. “If you forfeit now, I’ll be merciful.”

“If you’re really faster than me, prove it!” I dared him. That, I think, was it. What spurred him on, made the chase all the worthier.

I thought I could win, and I did try in earnest. I’d gotten to the porch, intent on carrying the chase into the house so I could call sanctuary in my room. But as my hand reached for the doorknob, I felt a strong arm, snaking around my waist and pulling me back into their body. Nick’s smiling face, hidden in my hair as he spun me around, laughing in his victory at having won the game. I was laughing too, it seemed, clinging to the arm that held me, hoping to god he wouldn’t drop me somehow. His body against my back felt…different, to what I was expecting. He was strong, obviously, and yet there was something soft and warm about it. Like a hand in a satin glove. It wasn’t as if he hasn’t touched me before; when he carried me upstairs that time, I had a close-up encounter with his cotton-clad chest. I think now was different because of the reasoning behind it. Before, he carried me simply because it had to be done. Right now, he was holding me because he wanted to, because he was happy, and because he’d won the game of chase.

“Gotcha,” He whispered, his cheek dangerously close to mine. “Now, can I have my shirt back?”

“Fine,” I sighed with a smile, holding up the damp linen for him to take. “It’s not as if I was going to keep it or anything.”

“And risk you doing some voodoo ritual to make me into a brainless puppet? No thanks.”

It was a few seconds at least, before I pulled back. Stepping out of his one-armed spoon, the absence of his body against mine creating a strange sense of loss. Maybe it was the warmth against my back, or the sound of his laughter, close to my ear. Either way, I couldn’t keep on thinking about it. I had to get the rest of the laundry out, and dinner was just a few minutes away.

“I’ll finish up with the load,” I said to him, hoping to get away soon as the heat began to creep into my cheeks. “I’ll see you inside.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” He said, apparently feeling just as strange about this as I did. Not that I could blame him; talking was one thing, but touching? Playful hugs and laughter? It was uncharted territory for us.

So, I went out, I finished pegging the washing, and I went back inside, just as mum was beginning to serve dinner. Baked chicken with hash-browns and salad. Only, there was something different about the way things were. I felt completely at ease with Nick’s prescience; sometimes, when I looked over as I talked with dad about things like the Halloween Masquerade, his eyes caught mine and we would share this look. That fun, conspiring sort of look; the only thing we allowed to give away our friendship. It wasn’t Nick who was to blame for the sudden tension, but Audrey. The entire time, she glared at him! The same, exact, cold glare she’d given him since the day he came here. I knew she said she was going to be protective, but this? He wasn’t even doing anything! It was like she was making his chewing mustard-soaked chicken seem like some sort of crime against humanity.

After some more late-night sitcoms, I went to bed. My head had barely touched the pillow when I heard Audrey creeping inside, padding quietly across the carpet, then slipping soundlessly beneath the covers. Her arm was around me, her chin rested against my bare shoulder. There was something so melancholy about her tonight; was it something Thomas had said to her, just before? Or was it merely how the sky looked so…dark and empty tonight, that it evoked all sorts of lonely feelings in a person.

“I told him,” She said, very quietly, almost monotoned. “I told him about the roofie.”

“What did he say?” I should’ve known the answer to that. He would’ve been worried, guilt-ridden, and enraged, all at the same time. “Was he angry?”

“Oh, he was angry alright,” She said, almost void of emotion. “Furious with me. Well, to begin with, he told me, over and over, how stupid I was. That was followed by a question on how I could’ve been so dumb and naïve as to not check my drinks before I drank them. Pretty girls get roofied all the time; pretty girls like me who don’t bother to think twice before they down the next cocktail. Pretty girls like my…like my sister, who’re too young and innocent to know any better. It was like he was condemning me, for being attractive! Like I ought to feel guilty and stupid whenever another guy so much as looks at me. Why is that, Hazel? Why should a pretty face be a flaw?”

The question, in mere words, sounded vain. Only a person who knew Audrey like I did could make out what she was really saying. Why couldn’t her boyfriend accept her, the way she was?

“Audrey, you can’t help being a pretty girl, no more than I can help being a shy one. And you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of that. Thomas has a right to feel angry, but it’s not you he has a right to feel angry at. Just…give him a day or two to calm down, then let him have it. We know he’s in the wrong, but let him see that first.”

“For somebody who’s sworn off boys for life, you sure give good advice about them,” She giggled softly. “Maybe a few days distance will do us both good. I can get it completely out of my system, and so can he. Yes, you’re right! Things will sort itself out in due time.”

Who was she trying to convince? Me, or herself?