Falling For Xavier Reyes, My Bully

Cracks In The Wall

BEATRICE

Our apartment smells like cheap cleaning spray and old pizza. I slip through the door as quietly as I can, hoping no one is home yet. I'm not that lucky. Pete's boots are by the door, and a half-drained beer sits sweating on the coffee table. My stomach twists.

"Hey kid," he calls from the kitchen, "thought you'll be back sooner." I don't answer, I don't have the energy to play nice with Pete. He steps into view, wiping his hand on a stained dish towel. His thinning hair is slicked back and his shirt is stretched too tight over his gut. His grin doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"You ignoring me now?" He asks, moving closer. "No, just tired." "Tired huh?" His eyes drag over me, lingering a little too long on places that make me want to disappear. "School rough?" I nod once, looking at the floor. He takes another step toward me and I shift back.

His grin widened. "You are real jumpy these days," I say nothing. The sound of keys jingling in the hallway nearly makes me cry with relief. The door swings open and Mom's voice fills the room. "God, what a day," she says, kicking off her heels. "Traffic was a nightmare, my boss is a prick and my back is killing me." I turn, hoping just once that Mom will look at me. Instead, she walks right past, pecks Pete on the cheek and collapses on the couch.

"You cook babe?" She asks, eyes closed. Pete snorts. "Made a mess in there, was thinking about ordering something. Pizza anyone?" Mom waves a lazy hand. "Whatever, just make it cheap." I honestly don't know how we survive on that junk food. She criticizes my cooking a lot and I just stopped trying one day.

I hover by the wall, invincible. "Bea," Mom says without opening her eyes. "Can you do something useful and clean up the bathroom? It smells awful." She doesn't wait for a reply. I swallow hard and turn away, slipping into the hallway like a ghost. The bathroom door shuts behind me with a quiet click. I sink to the floor, the weight of the world collapsing on my shoulders.

This is the part no one sees at school. Not the cruel bullies. Not the teachers. Not Xavier Reyes with his cocky smile and charm. And definitely not my mother. I close my eyes, pulling my knees to my chest. I'm not sure which is worse. Being invincible or being noticed for the wrong reasons.

I hate this room. Hate the peeling wallpaper and the odour here. But more than that, I hate the mirror. Still, I look anyway.

My reflection stares back. My tired eyes are puffy from holding tears. My full lips are red from being bitten too much, a habit I developed when nervous. I learnt to keep my soft jaw tilted downward. My body fills the frame and for a moment, I can't breathe. Too wide. Too round. Too much. My mother's voice echo in my head. "If you just lost a little weight, maybe people will like you more. You'll be pretty. Like me, when I was your age."

I press my palm flat against the sink. My clothes clung uncomfortably, reminding me of every seat that felt too tight, every cruel giggle behind my back. It isn't just the weight, it's everything. The silence at home home. The way Pete's eyes follow me when no one is looking. The kids at school who make a sport out of cutting me down. And then Xavier. What does he want from me? I don't know what to do with that. I don't know what to do with any of it. My vision blurs, tears welling but I refuse to let them fall. Not yet, not here. A quiet knock breaks my thoughts. "Bea?" A small voice whispers. I sit up straighter, composing my features. "Yeah, Teddy. I'm here."

The door creaks open and Teddy steps inside. Hugging a threadbare stuffed hippo to his chest. He is eight, too old for stuffed animals, Mom often said. But it's the only thing he'd brought from our last move that still feels like home.

He looks at me with wide, dark eyes that mirror my own. "You okay?" I force a smile, the kind that doesn't reach my eyes. "Just tired." He comes to sit beside me on the cold tile floor, his shoulder pressed against mine. He is small for his age, quiet. He never asks for much. He never causes trouble because he knows better. He grew up too quickly.

"You want me to tell you the turtle joke again?" he offers, glancing up at me. I actually laugh, a soft, broken sound. "Hit me." He clears his throat dramatically. "Why don't turtles ever fight?" I play along. "Why?" "Because they don't want to come out of their shells." I groan, nudging him gently. "That's terrible.". He grins. "I got more."

"I bet you do." We sit there for a while, the bathroom floor cold beneath us, the muffled voices of Mom and Pete echoing from the living room. This is our little bubble, fragile and fleeting, but safe at least for a few minutes. I wrap an arm around Teddy's thin shoulders, pulling him close. "One day," I whisper, "it won't be like this. We'll be somewhere better."

"Promise?" he asks. I hesitate, then kiss the top of his head. "Yeah. Promise." And in that quiet moment, I don't think about the girls at school or the way Xavier Reyes looks at me like I'm a puzzle he wants to solve. I just hold my brother a little tighter and focus on surviving the night. Tomorrow could be for fighting back.