Now I sat in first period, thinking about the thick bandages wrapped uncomfortably tight around my shin, hidden underneath jeans. I'd grown numb to the pain hours ago.
I'd had to wait until this morning to put proper cream on it; there were four scratches, running from my knee to my ankle. Deep, angry scrapes, red raw. I'd almost been sick this morning, cleaning the ragged flesh around it, already turned a pale, lifeless grey. All I could be thankful for was that there wasn't any yellow yet,
I was still dazed, seeing his face behind my eyes, refusing to accept reality.
Even as I saw the deep purple bruises on my neck this morning, I didn't flinch. I just pulled on a turtle neck and went out. Pretending, always pretending - my poker face was immaculate today.
At third period, Brendan was already talking as I walked in. "I missed assembly this morning, I'm sorry--" When I came closer, he did a double take. "Are you okay?"
I sat down. "I'm fine."
I'd made sure to do my hair, put some make-up on. It must have been the look in my eyes that freaked him out.
"You look. . ."
I turned to him. "I'm okay."
"If you say so. . ."
At lunch, I drifted to the library. The thought of facing all my friends and lying over and over made me cringe. So, in a daze I was growing progressively used to, I turned around the corner into the hallway.
I didn't see the tall, curly-haired boy striding down the corridor, toward the library. Toward me.
Reaching the door, I went to push it, but someone grabbed my wrist. Automatically, I flinched away, like the touch burned me.
"Hi, Dork." The voice mocked.
I looked up into wide, dark eyes.
"Julian." I murmured, and went to push the door.
He stopped me again. "Did you enjoy all the texts over the weekend?"
I nodded, waiting patiently for him to let me go.
Julian stared back. I vaguely noticed him frown. "Looks like there's more paint on your locker." He mused.
Was there? I hadn't noticed. . . Was that why I heard laughing when I got my books?
"Is there?" I said quietly.
Someone pushed on the door, and I slipped inside after they came out. Julian followed closely behind.
I darted away, only to be pulled back by my elbow, next to the shelves. I winced as the tug reminded me of the night before, when I'd been handled so roughly. . .
He let go immediately.
"Do you need something?" My voice was dead.
"No. I was just saying that I wouldn't come around on Thursday if I were you."
I nodded.
"I don't want to be tutored by you anymore. I'm thinking of hiring someone prettier. . ."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
I looked up at the ceiling in mild exasperation. "Okay."
When I looked back, his eyes were round, staring under my chin. Shock pulsed through me; he hadn't seen, had he? He hadn't seen the bruises. . .
But one look at his face, shocked and confused, told me he had.
Julian reached out, hooked a finger around the turtle neck. I leaned back, but he pulled it down.
He inhaled sharply. "What--"
I batted his hand away immediately. "Julian."
"What is that, Brooke?" His voice was still stunned. I couldn't look at him.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing to me. What is that?"
"Nothing."
I glanced, only to flinch at the blazing fury in his eyes; the pressure almost brought me to my knees.
"Brooke." His voice was low, warning.
"Julian."
"Tell me who did it." He stepped closer. "Now."
"It's nothing, Julian."
"Brooke--" His hand wrapped around my wrist, and I snatched it away.
He finally seemed alive, for the first time in a week, and it woke me up a little. "Don't touch me." I said, and pushed passed him, fleeing from the library.