Sky's View

Rahul Here's a dare for you," Shane says, sounding assertive. As if the birds heard him, they flutter from the colossal pine trees ahead of us. When we bunk school, we come down here. "I dare you..." Shane slurs, then takes a drag from his blunt. My body tremors like I have an electric eel for a spine, but of course I shake it off like the big boy I am in front of my friends. I stare ahead at the thinning fog, covering the forest flowing with trees- except for the cliff we're sitting on. "You better make it worth my time," I blurt, dread twisting in my guts. Why the hell did I say that? Harry, Andrew and Shane chortle in delight. I tentatively smile, trying my best to mask my true feelings. "Alright, alright, alright, I got one," Andrew declares. He is supposed to be the last one. Why couldn't he be the last one. "I dare you to ask that hot girl from biology for her number." Even though she has a boyfriend? I could definitely do that. I noticed the way she stares at me in biology. If looks could get me in bed, I'd already be in hers right now. "No no no, that's too easy. Like he isn't a womanizer already." Harry's loud voice rings in my eardrums. I keep a neutral expression though I really have this urge to punch him in the face for dismissing the perfect dare. And no, I'm not saying it because I want the hot girls number( which is a lie), I'm saying because they give me the worse dares. "Harry shifts closer beside me, the small stones beneath our feet crumble, and gaze down to witness them crushing on the coddled ground below us. Will I break into minute pieces from this height too? The haze from Andrew's blunt s**t bathes my face, and my stomach begins doing back flips. I don't do weed but I know it's cheap when the stench is no different from an abandoned toilet. And my friends have the kind of money to but some expensive stuff with a pleasant smell, but they are dependent on weed everyday to have to wait for their weed supplier every Friday afternoon. Either way, my mother managed to mold me into a seventeen year old boy who believes doing weed is a sin, but it had succeeded because I'll never touch any form intoxicating substance. "Oh look what we have over here," Andrew's half open eyes disjoints from mine, and clocks his head in the direction behind me. I take in a prolonged breath and crane my head over my shoulder. What is he even looking at? I narrow my eyes at the figure walking past the towering trees. I recognize the mixed girl with tight black curls splayed over her back, in the blue uniform. If it wasn't for the book and white All Star Converse giving it away, I wouldn't have known her. It's the weird girl from Westbridge school who never speaks. "I got a dare for you. I don't think any one will be able to top this one," Harry says in a sinister tone; I feel my soul leave my body. Shane and Andrew snicker mockingly. Air shoots out of my lungs like I took a punch to the chest. Whatever Harry has in mind, isn't good. In that instant, the school buzzer goes off indicating school is over. I release a sigh of relieve. I hoist my backpack from the floor, and sling the strap over my shoulder, hoping the dare evaporated from Harry's stoned head. "Not so fast, Rahul." I flinch. "Bro, I got to be at home early today. We have a few guests coming over." "What? Did I just here you make chicken sounds?" Harry begins emitting loud clucking sounds. Andrew and Shane mimic him. My Jaws clench. Harry has a lot of dirt on me- accompanied by solid evidence- for me to retract. Sometimes I think that's the only reason we're still friends. I give an uncertain blink. " What's the dare?" I deadpan; Harry takes another drag. "I dare you to throw the mute girl down this cliff." **** Skyler It's been three years since I traded my voice in exchange for silence. Henceforth, I exchange my thoughts with solitude; my voice spoken for my ears only. The part spoken for others drifted away like how a mother drops her kid at a stranger's doorstep and never returns. Emily calls my phone, but I let it go to mail. I know what it's about: I skipped my therapy group session today. As if therapy can make me talk again. As if anything can make me talk again. As if anything is more powerful than the untold story pressing my chest. A bird flutter so low above my head; my heart lurches. Solitude. The reason I'm here. It's the only time I'm away from people- completely. I have nothing except the book in my hand. Except this breathing forest. I feel the gust breathing fire into my hair and bones; recharging me. For once, I'm actually a part of something enormous- not just a cigarette break. Exactly why I enjoy the peace and solitude of the Westbridge wide swath of green. I am about to fall down next to my favourite oak tree when I hear heavy footsteps pulsing through the moss covered ground. For a second I think the forest actually has a heart, but the hideous thought flits out of my head when the three boys I walked past on my way here stride in my direction. They are from the school I have been going to for the past two years since moving in Westbridge. Wait, are they walking towards me? From the three lean boys, dark brown eyes are staring directly at me, and I feel them scorching my cheeks. My head involuntarily drops as I rush to a random page on my notebook: 03 March 2017 The footsteps are too close now. I can feel my heart rupturing my ribcage. I bite back a shiver as heat circulate my chest. My eyes fall shut when hands wrap around my arms, pulling me up, and my book thuds the ground. I can't keep from shaking. I look into his eyes, the one who's touch feels warm but looks like razor blades in my eyes. My tongue is cut, and the world reminds me that I matter when I'm reduced to ash. Like that dark time in my life. I gaze back at my notebook. I should have set it alight like I wanted to this morning. I should have done a lot of things. They say nothing as the tanned boy drags me across the trail. His friends walking in front of us, pouring stench of weed in my nostrils. "Run," he hisses. "Run." I can feel him breathing much closer than before- heaving. But like how my voice fell deaf on the ears of others, once upon a time, his voice falls deaf in mine. It's hot, I feel like something forgotten in the oven, although the summer day is gray, and the clouds are hanging low. The boys stop by the cliff. I am made of the stones crushing beneath my feet, waiting to be picked up and thrown off the cliff. They utter intelligible things, but it feels like a argument just broke out. But I can only see their eyebrows knitting together, and mouths agape. I can't decipher more than that because my eyes are open, but my mind is elsewhere. The unruly hair boy lets go of my hand. I feel the devoid of his warmth. Like my skin was a foreign coat clinging to my body, and in his command it has slid out of reach. The others begin tugging my arms. Before I know it, they drag me towards the edge of the cliff. I hope they push me.