Stop Him

Blacklisted

I was an hour late to school but it was hard to care about the dirty looks I got from the attendance check-in lady at the front office when I told her I’d missed the bus this morning.  She’d let it slide just because it was only my second day but when I got to my first period class, Ash was already giving me curious looks.  I hadn’t noticed before but, now that I was handing the slip to the teacher allowing me to join the class, I noticed Charles was in the class too.  Our eyes met as I made my way to my seat and he gave a small smile, quickly averting his gaze back to his assignment.  Weird.  Plopping into my seat, Ash whispered, “Where were you?”

    “Missed the bus,” I shrugged.

    “Oh, damn.  How far away do you live?”

    “Not too far.  I just took a detour,” I laughed, pulling out my notebook for this class.  Flipping it open, I froze, staring down at what should have been a clean sheet of lined paper.  Scrawled all over it in pen in various sizes and thicknesses was the symbol from my bedroom wall.  Glancing toward Ash who wasn’t paying attention, I shut my notebook, flipping through all the pages discretely.  Every page had the same thing on it.  My stomach sank, palms already sweating as I reached for another notebook.  I had five of them and not a single clean sheet of paper.  Trembling, I shoved the books back into my bag, raking my hand through my hair, staring vacantly down at my desk.

    The girl.

    I imagined her in my bedroom while I was unconscious, scribbling away in my notebooks, and shivered.  I’d looked it up and it’s the Celtic symbol for “friendship”.  Is this . . . her way of asking to be my friend?  Because the answer is no.  A firm no.  Especially since she chose the creepiest way to ask.  Why ruin all of my notebooks?  It doesn’t make sense.  Does a haunting have to make sense?  That’s what it is, right?  A haunting?  But why did it have to be my bedroom?  Why not my parents?  Why me?

    “Hey,” Ash whispered, nudging me.

    My eyes snapped up and I realized the teacher was looking directly at me.  “Huh?” I wondered aloud, glancing around to find that everybody was watching.

    “I asked how you planned on taking notes without paper, Ms. Bartholomeu,” Ms. Hains said.

    “Um,” I muttered, glancing nervously at Ash who quickly ripped a piece of paper from her notebook, sliding it in front of me.  Giving a nervous smile, the Ms. Haines gave me an unimpressed look but graciously moved on with the lecture.

    “Rough day, huh?” Ash wondered.

    She didn’t know the half of it.

. . .

“Haunted?”

    It was Lisa on the phone while I paced in the handicapped stall in the girls’ bathroom.  “Like Casper the friendly ghost haunted or Paranormal Activity haunted?”

    “This girl definitely wasn’t Casper,” I whispered, stressed.

    “A girl?  You saw the ghost?”  I recanted what happened, or at least what I remembered and what my dad had seen and she said, “Girl, I would move back to Pittsburgh ASAP.”

    “Right?!” I snapped, rubbing my palms over my face, trying to calm down.  Thank God I don’t wear a lot of makeup because, whew, it would be smeared all over the place right now.  “I don’t know what to do.  You know how my parents are.”  Lisa is one of the only people who does know.

    “But your dad saw her,” she said.

    “He thought she was my friend, Lisa.  The girl didn’t even have a”—I hesitated, hearing footsteps outside of the stall, lowering my voice back to a whisper—“face.”

    “Wait, what?!”

    “I mean, she might have but her hair was in the way and she was like blurred.”

    “Blurred?”

    “Yeah, like she could’ve been underwater or you know how a TV screen can kind of like ripple when there’s bad signal?”

    “What the—“  There was a commotion on the other side and I heard Lisa sigh.  “I have to get back to class but please be safe, okay?  That sounds scary as hell.  Love you.”  She made a kiss noise.

    “Love you too,” I muttered, hanging up.

    It is scary as hell.

    I thought about the closet, opening and closing.  My notes—

    A loud slam made me jump, nearly dropping my phone.

    The sound of water and, through the slit in the door I could see two normal girls, one washing their hands, the other applying some lip gloss.  Thank God.  Heading out of the stall, I made my way back toward my third period class, turning a corner and bumping right into Steven.  Literally.  His hair was mussed, breathing kind of elated, and he licked his lips when he saw me, giving me a cheeky smile.  “Hey Gigi, what’s up?”

    “What’s up with you?” I wondered, quirking a brow, noticing lip gloss on his neck, along with a couple unhidden hickeys.  I could guess what he’d been doing.

    “Just a bathroom run,” he shrugged, smooth.

    “You’re breathing like it was a real run,” I said, gesturing to my neck.  “You’ve got a little something right here.“  He wiped at the gloss, giving a sheepish laugh as he realized he’d been caught.  “See you at lunch,” I said, giving a small wave, continuing on my way.

    I don’t think I was supposed to hear him mutter, “See ya later, bubble butt.”  I turned to throw him a dirty look but he was already turning the corner, oblivious.

    Day two and I have a new nickname.

    Wonderful.

. . .

Lunch was pretty much the same as yesterday.  Kiki had opted to sit next to me but she and Addison were whispering most of the lunch period while Steven took the seat on the other side of me, Chase and Ash seated across the way.  Steven kept stealing French fries from me so I took to slapping his hand away, nudging him unhappily.  Sharing isn’t my strong suit.  He just laughed, teasing me most of the time, which seemed to irritate Ash.  I think he knew Ash didn’t like it and was doing it anyway, while Chase was just chatting away like some Captain Oblivious.

    It was nearly the end of the lunch period when I felt a tug on my hair and found Steven twirling it in his fingers.  I frowned at him and he just smirked, resting his head against his fist.  “You’re a natural dirty blonde, right?”

    I tried to ignore the double connotation of the statement.  “This is my natural hair color,” I muttered, noticing how Ash chose to take a drink from her water to halt her conversation with Chase.

    “It’s nice,” he said, smoothing my hair down along my back.  “Soft.”

    “Uh, thanks.”

    “You should keep it long,” he said, pushing my hair behind my shoulder now, tucking it neatly behind my ear.  I watched him, taking in how close he’d gotten to me, the way he kept finding excuses to put his hands on me.  Steven’s the touchy type.  He has no sense of personal space.  Pushes boundaries.

    “Why?” I wondered.

    “Because I like it,” he shrugged, brushing my hair to the side again.

    “Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered, looking him over.  He smirked, turning his ear to me and I whispered, “I don’t care what you like,” pulling back to smile sweetly at him.  He looked surprised but I was unconcerned as I picked up my tray, heading to the trash to empty it.

    A familiar redhead was seated across the way.  Charles.  He was at a table full of jocks it looked like but his eyes were set on the window, staring vacantly ahead.  I wondered what he was daydreaming about as I dumped my tray, setting it on the top of the trash can just as the bell rang.  Turning back, I noticed Steven watching me . . . all while Ash was watching him.  Awkward.  Chase just rose from his seat, tossing his book bag on, nudging Ash to go and I walked toward the table as Steven grabbed my bag, holding it out to me.  “Thanks,” I muttered, tossing the strap over my own shoulder, noticing Ash’s eyes on us.  When she realized I’d caught her staring she gave a small smile and I smiled back, wondering why she wasn’t just dating Steven if she was that stuck on him.

    Gym is next so, just as I expected, Steven walked side by side with me.  I felt a little awkward not talking to him since he was literally right there but I also didn’t want him to get any more funny ideas about me by coming off too friendly.  I’m purposely unavailable and still praying for an eventless year.

    “There’s a party this Friday,” Steven finally piped up.

    That’s an event.  I’m not interested in events.  “Oh?”

    “You should come.  Ash and Chase will be there too.”

    Yeah, it’s probably a no for me.  I might have gone if I’d been invited by Ash but if Steven was asking me, I was out.  I went to decline the offer when somebody called out to him from behind us.  Glancing over my shoulder, I watched a girl I recognized from gym class yesterday bound up to Steven linking her arms with his. “You’ll be at Luke’s this Friday, right?” she asked, pouting up at him.  She had big green eyes, her blonde hair falling in perfect curls—I love curls.

    “Yeah, I was just telling Gigi about it, actually,” he said, glancing my way.

    Now I had narrowed blue eyes at me.  Great.  “Oh, hi,” she said, giving me a fake smile, her voice way too chipper to be genuine.  “You must be the new girl everybody’s been talking about!”

    I tried not to feel bothered at the statement that everybody has been talking about me.  It’s a small school, not much excitement around—I hoped they were just curious about me, not spreading malicious rumors.  “I guess so.”

    The girl glanced over at Steven and I got the gist that she was waiting for him to introduce her to me but he just kept his eyes forward, paying her no mind.  Looking annoyed, she finally said, “Well, I’m Patricia.  Steven and I go way back.”  She smiled again, squeezing his arm tighter.

    Oh, I got it, girl.  He’s taken.  By multiple people, probably, so I figured I’d try to ease any of her concerns about me, walking around Steven to stand next to Patricia instead.  “I’m so jealous of your hair, it’s perfect,” I said, eyeballing her curls.  That seemed to like that, turning her body to face me more, looking me over carefully.  “Can I touch?”

    “Yeah,” she giggled.

    Grinning, I bounced her curl with my hand.  “I love curls.”

    She groaned, “It’s so hard to style this mess in the morning!”

    “It looks super cute,” I immediately complimented her.

    Patricia looked surprised, muttering, “Um, thanks.”  Steven gave me a strange look before breaking off toward the boy’s locker room while I followed along Patricia now, heading toward the girls locker room.  We’d barely stepped through the door that Patricia said, “I heard you’re from Pittsburgh.”

    “Uh, yeah—“

    “You should go back,” she said, turning to stare down her nose at me.  The smile was gone now, all that cheerfulness having evaporated into thin air.

    Oh.

    I stopped in my tracks, watching her step up to a group of girls, already pulling at their clothes, laughing at something.  Her eyes slid back to me and she quirked a brow, muttering, “Why is she just standing there?” to the rest of the group.

    One girl rolled her eyes, another giggled.

    Oh-kay then.

    I’d met a couple mean girls in my life but this was extra.

    Lisa would already be stomping on one of their faces for treating me like this.  God, I missed Lisa.  I missed home.

    Walking to the other side of the lockers, away from them, I pulled on my gym clothes, thankful that I’d brought shorts that weren’t skin tight today.  At least I’d be comfortable moving around.  I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, heading out toward the gym, careful to keep away from Patricia’s group.  For whatever reason, I was already blacklisted.  Maybe they know I live in a haunted house? I frowned at the thought, gnawing on my cheek again.

    I’d have to get new notebooks for school.

    Sleep on the couch in the living room or something.

    Probably nail my closet door shut.

    Burn some sage.

    That’s how you cleanse a house, right?  I saw it on a meme on f*******: once.  That stuff is stinky though, isn’t it?  Mom would probably have a fit.

    And they won’t believe me.

    My parents won’t believe me.

    Mom didn’t believe me when I told her about Dad.

    About the car crash.  I thought about the flash of headlights as dad swerved into the opposite lane.  The way the vehicle jerked away from him, the loud sound of metal on metal—and we’d been untouched.  Safe.  And dad, he’d just driven off, fleeing the scene of the crime.  “Don’t tell your mother,” was all he said.  I did.  As soon as I could get mom alone, I told.

    I had to tell somebody.

    And that boy, the one we talked about in school, the reason for the discussion about the definition of the word “sonder”—

    “Hey.”  My eyes snapped over to a girl I didn’t recognize, one with blazing red hair pulled into two Dutch braids and freckles.  “They’re just being assholes because you’re pretty,” she said, shoving her hands in her sweat pant pockets.  Isn’t it a bit warm to be in sweats?  “I’m Halle,” she said, offering a smile.  She had braces but her smiled was still a pretty one.

    “Aren’t you worried you’ll get picked on if you talk to me?” I wondered, glancing over toward Patricia’s group.  They were already whispering.

    She rolled her eyes.  “They’re already spreading rumors that I’m gay.”

    “Are you?”

    “No.”  She shrugged, unbothered.  “I just take comfort in the fact that these will be the best years of their lives.”

    I bit back a smile.  I already liked Halle.

    The coach blew the whistle, calling for laps to start just like yesterday.  Halle groaned and my eyes moved to Steven who was already looking at me.  When our eyes met he winked and I rolled my eyes, ducking my head.  “Now that’s the real reason they’re being so vicious,” Halle laughed.  “Heck, I’m jealous you caught his eye.”

    “You can have him,” I muttered, glancing up at her as we started following the other students, hitting a slow and steady jog.

    “I wish,” she giggled.

    While we were going, I noticed another familiar head of red hair ahead of us.  Charles was talking to a guy, all smiles.  Enigmatic.  Just like the person I’d spoken to on the bus . . . until he’d completely switched up on me.  It was weird when I thought about it, strange.  Maybe he’s bipolar.  As he rounded the court, his eyes shifted to me and I glanced back at Halle, offering her a quick grin.  I didn’t want him to think I was staring.  She hardly noticed me, already breathing hard, winded.

    Forcing my eyes forward again, I tried to focus on something more important than whether or not Charles had a mental illness.

    Like ruined notebooks.

    Opening closet doors.

    The girl in my room.

    Maybe I’d be better off trying to sleep outside tonight.