No plan
1379 Words
Stacey got home just after seven.
The sunset painted the street in long streaks of orange and bruised lavender, the shadows of the trees sharp across the pavement. She still felt warm from the ciders and warmer still from Kayla’s voice in her ear, their laughter echoing between bursts of whispered plans and mock-serious strategy.
They hadn’t solved the world’s problems.
But for a little while, it had felt like they could.
It was easy to forget, for just a second, that only a few hours earlier Stacey had been crumpled on a cold science lab floor with Gemma’s spit on her cheek and bruises blooming under her skin. She hadn’t forgotten the pain no, her ribs and cheekbone ached with every movement, but the shame had quieted. Replaced by something harder. Cleaner.
A plan.
What she hadn’t planned for, though, was her parents.
The second she stepped inside, the walls closed in.
Her mum looked up from the kitchen table, eyes going wide as she took in Stacey’s face. Her dad was off the couch before the door even clicked shut.
“Oh my God, Stacey,” her mum gasped, rushing over. “What the hell happened to your face?”
Her dad’s voice followed, sharp and rumbling: “Who did this? Where were you? Why didn’t you call?”
“I’m fine,” Stacey said, hands up, flinching instinctively from their intensity. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Her mum’s voice hit a pitch that made the windows shake. “You look like someone hit you with a car. Sit down. You need ice, and should we call someone? The school?”
“We are calling the school,” her dad snapped, already fishing his phone from his back pocket. “This is assault. You can’t just walk in here like nothing happened”
“I didn’t!” Stacey snapped, louder than she meant to. “I didn’t walk in like nothing happened, I’m just trying to deal with it!”
That silenced them.
For about three seconds.
Then came the next wave, softer but tighter, suffocating in its own way.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be brave about this,” her mum murmured, already trying to guide her toward the couch.
“We’re not letting this go,” her dad added, jaw set. “I’ll take a day off work if I have to. We’ll go to the school board, or, hell, the police, if it comes to that.”
She shook her head. “You’re making it worse”
“We’re protecting you!” her mum said. “What, you’d rather just be out drinking like nothing’s wrong”
Stacey’s stomach turned.
“How do you even know I was drinking?”
“Because you smell like cheap cider,” Harry called from the hallway, shirtless, chewing on something out of a takeaway bag.
Of course.
Harry.
He wandered into the living room like he was strolling into a sitcom, eyes moving over her bruises with all the subtlety of a brick wall. His expression faltered as he looked closer, then hardened into something weirdly intense.
“I’ll find them,” he said. “Whoever did this.”
Stacey blinked. “What?”
“I’ll find them,” he repeated, like it was that simple. “You don’t have to do anything. Just tell me who it was. I’ll sort it.”
“I don’t want you to sort it!” she shouted, louder than she’d meant to. “None of you are listening to me!”
They froze.
Staring.
She felt the walls pushing in from all sides, questions, commands, and concern turned into control. Her bruises burned under their stares, like the pain was somehow more real now that it belonged to them too.
She couldn’t breathe.
“I need to go,” she said suddenly, already moving toward the door.
“Stacey, don’t be stupid,” her dad started.
But she was already outside.
She didn’t have a destination in mind.
The air was cooler now, the sky turning dark at the edges. She walked fast, past her neighbour’s garden, past the bus stop, past the chip shop glowing under its flickering sign.
Her arms were crossed tight over her stomach. Not from the cold.
She didn’t know where she was going.
But she knew she couldn’t stay there.
Not in that house where her bruises had become some kind of family mission. Not with Harry’s weird, hero-complex need to “protect” her, or her mum’s frantic hovering, or her dad’s righteous fury like he was the one who got punched in the ribs.
She just needed quiet.
She just needed space.
She just needed...
A car pulled up next to her.
She barely noticed at first, to lost in her thoughts.
Then a voice warm, low, familiar.
“Stacey?”
She stopped dead.
Her stomach dropped.
Mr. Callahan.
She turned her head just slightly and saw him, windows down, hair mussed like he’d been running a hand through it for the last hour, worry already etched into his face.
He stepped out of the car before she could react.
“Stacey,” he said again, quieter this time. “Please. Stop.”
Her body obeyed before her brain did.
She froze.
Her heart was hammering, a rhythm that belonged to another girl entirely.
Part of her wanted to run. To keep walking until the world tipped off its edge. Another part wanted to turn around and scream at him not to look at her like this, not now, not like this.
So she stood.
Stuck between fight and flight.
Mr. Callahan approached slowly. No sudden moves. Just calm, steady footsteps until he was standing a foot behind her.
His voice was a breath. “Can I...?”
She didn’t answer.
His hand landed lightly on her shoulder.
Gentle. Barely there.
Then he turned her toward him.
And his face broke.
There was no hiding the emotion in his eyes. Shock. Anger. Grief.
Like seeing her like this physically hurt him.
He didn’t ask what happened.
Didn’t speak at all.
Instead, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
Not the kind you give a student. Not even the kind you give a friend.
It was the kind of hug that said: You are safe now. I’ve got you.
And for the first time all day, Stacey let go.
Her fists unclenched. Her shoulders dropped. The breath she’d been holding since the science lab released in a jagged sob against his chest.
Mr. Callahan didn’t flinch.
He just held her tighter.
Her knees wobbled, and he shifted his stance to support her weight. No questions. No pressure. Just steady arms and the warmth of someone who saw her, who didn’t need the story to feel the truth of it.
Stacey didn’t know how long they stood like that.
She didn’t care.
She only knew that for the first time since the girls had left her bleeding on the science lab floor...
She didn’t feel broken.
She just felt held.
Eventually, the sobs dulled to shaky breaths, and the hard grip of fear eased just enough for Stacey to speak. Her voice was raw, stretched thin from everything that had come before. “I thought I scared you off,” she whispered, not moving from the circle of his arms. “After what I said… in the medical room. You weren’t in class the next day. I thought maybe I crossed some line. Said too much.”
Mr. Callahan didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was steady but laced with something quiet and furious, not at her, but at everything that had been done to her. “Stacey, what you said in that room what you trusted me with, didn’t scare me. It made me more sure than ever that someone needs to be on your side. I didn’t disappear. I was trying to give you space. I'm trying to figure out how not to make things worse.” He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his thumb brushing gently under her bruised cheekbone. “But seeing you now? Like this? I can’t just stay in the background anymore.”
- Writer
