"Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you."
John Green.
"You did what?!"
We stagger through the crowds of students, some of them sniggering at me and others sending me eye rolls. Tutting, several members manifest their disapproval, disgust radiating off of them. Snide remarks can be heard throughout the corridor, dirty looks past around as each boy and girl stare. Nudging one another, a group of boys point and laugh at me, making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that they are teasing me.
Ignoring them, I fixate my attention upon Wyatt, the imperfectly perfect boy who has been my friend throughout all of this.
I'll admit, sometimes things get messy. Sometimes our relationship is chaotic and sometimes, we lack the proper maturity in order to face it all. You can call Wyatt and I many things, but one thing we're not is forgettable. Even with the evident hatred of our peers, the disapprobation of my mother, the unjust opinions and rumours of this idiotic town, behind it all, is a slight admiration for how far we've come.
And that, is why they try to tear me down.
That, and the fact that I'm plus-size.
"I've made friends with Heather," I announce, proudly. "We've talked it out, everything's okay and-"
"Everything's not okay," Wyatt interjects. "Listen, I've known that girl since I was nine years old. I don't know why but I have a feeling that this 'friendship', this abrupt truce, has more to it than just a simple apology."
Descending the slate-grey steps, Wyatt and I turn right, passing a tall, caramel-brown tree with long, thin, pine-green leaves. A dove-grey plane drifts along the cobalt-blue sky, whilst fluffy clouds stretch above us.
"I know what she's like, Val. Stay away from her," he warns.
"Really?" I quiz, folding my arms across my chest. "What do you know?"
Jaw clenched and fists bawled at his sides, Wyatt halts. Stopping about two meters behind him, I find myself quite intrigued to find out how he'll react. I've never challenged him before, therefore this does tend to arouse my curiosity.
Turning around on his heel, Wyatt takes a step towards me. His emerald-green eyes darken and small silhouettes cast over his face as he stares down at me.
"I know that she's ruthless," he informs me. "I know that she's quite determined and resilient when it comes to getting what she wants. I know that she's a snake; she likes to get close to you, close enough for you to trust and let her know all your secrets."
Wyatt steps a little closer, bending down to whisper in my ear the following words:
"So close it almost makes you hot and bothered. So close that she can gather all the information on you that she needs; all the information she can utilise in order to blackmail you. For the guys, it's seduction and empty promises. For the girls, it's friendliness and nice trips to mall. And before you know it..."
He comes impossibly closer that he already is, causing me to blush harder than I already am. My breathing is uneven and my hands are shaking. Yet I permit him to take control as if he were the puppeteer and I, the puppet.
Gently taking my hand, he continues.
"Before you know it, Heather bites you, like the snake she is," he finishes.
Clearing my throat, I push the perfect boy away with my right hand. Hastily, I regain my composure, delicately fanning myself. A rush of adrenaline surges through me and occasionally, I even pull my collar to allow myself more air.
"There's no need to be dramatic, Wyatt," I say. "Everything is under control. Heather has taken the initiative to be kind and since that is quite a pleasant surprise, I am taking the opportunity that has arose. After all, we may never know whether or not the 'snake' may return."
Rolling his eyes, Wyatt still remains a gentle grip on my hand. Gazing at me, his lips part and something about his facial features soften.
I feel like I've reached his heart. I feel like I've made room for myself within his heart.
Letting go, Wyatt looks away as Red jogs towards us.
"Hey guys, what's going on?" He asks.
"Not much," Wyatt answers. "Just talking to Val."
Smiling at me, Red gives me a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"You really are beautiful, you know that?"
Flustered, I can't help but glance at Wyatt and see that he appears quite annoyed. I'm assuming he won't say anything, due to the fact that even if he is frustrated, he never communicates his true feelings.
However, this time, I'm wrong.
"Get you hands off her," is the sharp demand.
Confused, Red raises his eyebrows. Then, after realising what Wyatt's intentions are, he smirks.
"Why?" He questions. "Are you jealous? Is that it? I think we both know she likes me more than you."
"Shut up," Wyatt growls.
I'm not doing anything!" Red exclaims. "I'm simply preparing you for your loss."
"My loss?"
Red grins, an unknown emotion emerging in his ocean-blue eyes. Stepping forward -his arm still around me-, he then whispers:
"If you hit me, Valentina will finally see how much of a dip sh!t you really are."
"Red!" I chime in, raising my voice slightly. "I think that's enough!"
"Watch your tone," Wyatt steadily cautions.
"And you wouldn't want that, would you?" Red mocks. "Because if Blue realises how much you suck, she'll finally be up for grabs, won't she?"
"Up for grabs?!"
"That's it!" My inner voice says.
Pulling away from Reddman, I gradually back away from him, a look of pure grotesque on my face. Grotesque and melancholy that he'd use such a phrase. I sigh deeply, wishing I could forget the words uttered by him.
"I think that's enough, Red!" I scream. "In fact, I know that's enough! 'Up for grabs'?! What am I, some type of object?! What is wrong with you?! How could you say something so..."
Breaking down into tears, I begin to laugh. I laugh hard and long like never before, the chuckles resonating as I receive frightful stares from both of my friends. I remember that at one point, I stop laughing. Unfortunately, the tears still remained.
"F*ck you," are my next words. "F*ck. You."
"Blue, I..."
"Shut the f*ck up!" Wyatt barks. "You've done enough."
Dashing away, I disregard the shouts, the yells telling me to return and focus on putting as much distance between them and I as possible. I dart through vast congregations, my feet smacking against the pavements, whilst making an attempt to rid the thoughts floating at the back of my mind. There are times in which I collide with people and I apologise, only to run off faster than ever, hoping that no one is chasing me.
"Hey! Slow down will you!"
Recognising the voice and seeing this as a potential excuse to stop, I do slow down. Wanting to catch my breath, I bend over and lay each hand on my knees, huffing and puffing as the person stands beside me.
"I saw what happened," Serenity states. "I'm sorry."
"It's...not...your...fault," I blurt out in between pants.
"I know," She assures me. "I was just trying to offer you some comfort, since I saw you were 'down in the dumps' and all that."
I look up at her, her platinum-blonde hair ending in ringlets, her hazel eyes shining with such brightness. The world stops as she offers me a small smile, her skin glowing as life appears inside her. Her beauty is one that most would envy and the light that manifests is so vibrant, so lovely, that anyone would want to be apart of that.
"Thank you," I say, expressing my appreciation. "Thank you."
"No problem. You okay, yeah?" She asks, helping me stand up and taking me by the hand to the nearest bench.
"No," I retort, sitting down. "I'm not okay. Red said (and I quote) that I'm 'up for grabs.'"
Shocked, Serenity's mouth forms a small 'o' and her hazel eyes widen at the information, which I've shared. Shaking her head, she taps her foot and I can tell that she's clearly annoyed.
"What are you, some type of object?!"
"That's what is said!" I cry out. "That's what I said because I was so upset, Serenity. I was seriously upset!"
"Did you tell him to f*ck off?"
"Yeah," I mumble, a little ashamed.
The wind blows softly and the rustle of leaves becomes strangely soothing.
"May I ask," Serenity begins, "what exactly was Red doing when he said this?"
"I think he was trying to make Wyatt jealous," I mutter as I blow my nose with a tissue.
Serenity gives me a look I can't define.
"What is it?"
"You do realise he said that because he felt threatened, right? They both like you, sis!"
"They do?"
"Yes!" She shouts. "Please, stop wasting time. You never know when it's too late!"
"But I have all the time in the world," I say.
"No, sis," she mumbles. "No you don't. And that's why you need to end this. Tell the one you like the most how you feel! Tomorrow is uncertain, one of them could die for all you know."
Standing to her feet, Serenity proceeds to walk away. Then she stops and calls over her shoulder;
"I think you know, which one is more important to you."
I smile weakly, grateful that I have her.
"Oh and that b!tch, Heather, told me to give you this," she says, throwing a piece of paper into my hands. "Anyways, have a good evening."
Staggering away, she crosses the road and I wave, uttering my own goodbye, whilst I make a mental note to buy her a gift.
Next, I open the note, the words written as neatly as ever:
Meet me at Crescent Towers mall at five o'clock tomorrow!
"For the girls, it's friendliness and nice trips to mall. And before you know it...Heather bites you, like the snake she is."
"It's just a coincidence," I think, "In this town, coincidences happen all the time."
"It's really not," my inner voice says. "Crescent Towers is a rubbish town. Remember, your main motivation is to study in order to get out of here! Matter of fact, have you been studying at all?!"
"Well let's forget about that," I think, staring at the note. "I accept."
"What?"
"I accept because she's changed."
"You are so gullible!" my inner voice yells. "Ugh!"
...
"I'm so glad you came!" Heather squeals as she skips towards me for an embrace. "So, what are we going to do? Hmmm...let's go buy shoes! Or makeup! Or...clothes!"
Standing there as I'm bombarded with suggestions, I observe the mall. The aqua-blue fountain at the centre, vibrant signs attracting people to a diverse set of stores. Mannequins pose at the glass entryway, wearing the most beautiful clothes that the shop has to offer. From pastel-purple jumpers to ink-black, leather skirts. From auburn-orange, button-up dress and black and white checkered t-shirts. Mint-green jeans, daffodil-yellow cardigans and sparkling, red scarfs.
Shoe stores do roughly the same, lining their latest trainers near the windows, hoping to gain a potential customer. Opposite this, is a red and white food court, plastic tables and chairs positioned just outside. Inside, they display various types of burgers, pizzas and you can even get ice cream.
I haven't been here since I was twelve, shopping for a new dress. I'd had my eyes on it for weeks; a beige, frilly, frock that had puffy sleeves. You see, I've always been interested in vintage kinda clothing. Therefore to me, this was perfect.
That party was for a girl named Melody. We were in elementary school and usually, she'd go out of her way to bully me or ignore me. However, she invited me and I was so pleased to socialise with the people from my grade.
I'd save up enough money to buy the dress. Obviously, since I'm quite big, I had to get the largest size which cost me even more money.
Yet, I didn't care because I was excited to finally be an equal and not an outcast.
Melody had given me the address and I told my mother that she didn't need to accompany me because the directions were seemingly accurate.
Turns out, I was wrong and I ended up at some random pub, waiting for my mother to pick me up as I stood there in the rain.
"Wanna go to the food court?" Heather asks. "We could talk?"
"Yeah," I reply.
I pull out a plastic seat and sit down, opposite her.
"So," Heather begins. "About your dad..."
"What about him?" I quiz.
Flashing me a bright, bleach-white smile, a smile that almost appears artificial, she says:
"I just find it funny that both our dads were gone for six months!"
"Sure is strange," I acknowledge, giving a shrug.
"I just want to know some more...I dunno...key facts," she states.
"Why?"
"Well I'm curious!" Heather laughs. "The more information I gather, the more my curiosity lessens."
"She can gather all the information on you that she needs; all the information she can utilise in order to blackmail you."
"It's just a coincidence," I think. "All one, big coincidence."
"You're lying to yourself!" my inner voice shouts. "Too many coincidences are too ironic. She invited you to the mall, she's asking about your dad..."
"Question, why is this necessary?"
Taken aback, Heather's jaw drops slightly.
"Nothing!" She stammers. "I just want to know... I dunno...whether he remained in Crescent Towers during that period or whether he migrated to another country?" She asks with a sheepish smile.
Frowning, I narrow my eyes and respond with:
"I remember him leaving with a suitcase. I was twelve, the same age you were when your dad disappeared too. Everything else is blurry after that."
"Oh, how tragic!" Heather exclaims. "So, so tragic that it's almost unbearable!"
"She overreacts to everything."
"It's not that much of a big deal," I mutter.
"Oh, but it is! I mean, only a daughter or a son can comprehend the struggles that our mothers went through, right?"
"Right..." I answer dubiously.
"I know that my dad remained in Dubai during the six month period," she continues. "And when investigating a little further, I found out that he was staying in a five star hotel on the outskirts of town."
"I-investigating?" I stutter.
"I have my....ways. I'm very influential," Heather giggles.
"For the guys, it's seduction and empty promises."
"Or money."
"So, 'hotel' you say?" I say, resuming the conversation.
"Yes and I found out that he was with another man!"
"Meaning..."
"Meaning," Heather whispers, leaning in, "he was having an affair with that man."
I froze, confused as to how any staff members could know that.
Confused as to how she could know that
"What?! But we're juniors in high school. Sixteen to be precise! What influences did you have for them to recall something that happened four years ago?!" I gape.
Smirking, Heather retorts:
"No information is deleted, unless you know where to look of course."
"Oh."
There's a short pause and then...
"Just one last thing, Valentina," Heather says. "What's your fathers name?"
Eyeing her suspiciously, I answer with a certain amount of scepticism:
"Lucas. Why?"
She beams, satisfied as she sits back.
"No reason. Would you like to order anything?"
"No," I respond. "But if you'd like to, I'd be happy to pay."
Waving her hand dismissively, Heather refuses my offer.
"Don't worry," she smiles. "You've already given me something far more precious than a burger and some fries."
...
The thumps of an orange basketball. The exclamations of excitement from children. A slight sway from the light-pink roses. A rustle from the forest-green leaves. Streaks of sunlight peak through the gaps in between trees, seeping out of the tiny gaps and embracing the town.
People bathe in its warm light, their skin glowing as they pass the acid-yellow spotlight. Birds tweet softly, a cold breeze ruffles my hair and the basketball makes a slight swoosh as it enters the hoop.
I enter school, happy that there's finally no drama. Nothing to disturb the tranquility in which today possesses. Nothing to ruin the peace that I deserve.
A spring in my step, a new type of rhythm in my blood, a force of nature. Happy, light, care-free energy surrounding me, taking over me.
"Hey, Val," Wyatt says as jogs up to me. "Sorry about yesterday and sorry I'm late."
"It's okay."
He stares at me, looking into my face for any sign of of anger. When realising that I am indeed happy, he smiles.
"Great!" Wyatt giggles. "You know I don't like seeing you upset."
"Where's Red?" I ask.
Shrugging, Wyatt rolls his eyes.
"I got a text from him saying that he's not feeling well. I'm guessing he's too embarrassed to confront us about what he said yesterday," he murmurs whilst we stroll through the crowds of students.
"Oh well," I sigh, "it seems like it's just you and I today."
A small grin creeps across Wyatt's face.
"Oh no," he mocks, pretending to be sad. "Not more time with the person I care about most in the world!"
"Shut up," I chuckle, shoving him lightly.
"Oh Valentina..."
"Sh!t!" My inner voice screams. "Why does she always have to be so loud?!"
Taking a deep breath, I put on my brightest smile and face her.
She runs through the crowd, energetic as ever. The same white and pink beret, the same elegant posture.
"Hey, Heather! How are you?"
"I'm going to be even better once you know this!" She squeals.
"Know what?" Wyatt questions.
"Hey Wyatt, didn't see ya there."
She waves, whilst using her other hand to flick her hair back.
"Sure," the perfect boys deadpans, "now tell Valentina what you want her to know."
"Why? Are you curious too?" She laughs, cocking her head to the side as she hold her sparkling, midnight-purple bag.
"Oh get to the point, Heather!" He yells. "This is too much bullish!t for one person."
"Umm Wyatt, we're all friends. Remember?"
He stares me down, narrowing his eyes on Heather.
"I didn't agree to anything," he states.
Rolling her eyes, Heather pulls me aside.
"So," she begins, holding me as we face the wall. Turning our backs to Wyatt, she speaks. "You know how my dad was having an affair?"
"Yeah?" I say, not sure where this is going.
In the corner of my eye, I see Wyatt cutting through the immense congregations, standing on his toes to get a better look at us.
"And you know how both our dads disappeared at about the same time?" Heather asks, rhetorically, eager to reach the climax of the conversation.
"Yeah?"
"Well," Heather whispers, "a staff member said that he vaguely remembered that the man with my father was named Lucas..."
My eyes widen, lips parting in shock as the words hung in the air. Too stunned to move, the air felt heavy and it seemed as if the earth beneath me began to crumble.
"His name, Valentina, is Lucas Blue-Rose."
"So that means...."
"Yes," Heather cackles, "your father and mine had an affair. A gay affair to be precise."
Ignoring the gay part (since I personally believe that that really isn't the issue here) I block out the rest of the words.
"An affair?" I mumble.
My father committed adultery?!
"What's going on here?" Wyatt barks. "Why did you drag Val off to the side like that?"
Mind still reeling, I begin to hyperventilate. My vision gradually proceeds to turn red, the sounds around me muting. A small chill runs down my spine and I feel as if I'm underwater, my shouts and screams muffled, rescue far and distant.
"Val, we're leaving," Wyatt announces.
"What?"
Wyatt does not respond. He simply grabs my hand and speed walks away. Before I know it, we're running, bolting past corners, increasing the velocity of our darts. Stairwells, hallways, they are like race tracks, fuelling our desire to get to our location.
My soul is heavy, my mind still shocked from the information. There's a faint shout behind us but like everything else, it fades and the feeling of endurance, although quite unpleasant, is all that I make an attempt to focus on.
"Hey!" I groan, out of breath. "We've run far enough!"
Glancing around quickly, Wyatt opens the door to the secret place and gently pushes me in.
Quite disoriented, I bend over, before finally collapsing in exhaustion. Dust from the floor covers my flint-grey jeans and the rattle of floorboards causes my body to shake.
Panting, I look up to see Wyatt standing over me. Looking into his eyes and standing up, I begin to cry.
And seeing this, he hugs me. Holding me into his arms as if I'm his and he is mine. I cry, howling my lungs out and he's the one here with me. Not Red, not mother, not anyone else.
Wyatt's the one here with me.
"What happened?" He asks, demanding to know. He puts his thumb under my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"M-my father...had an a-affair...with H-Heather's dad," I stutter, bursting into tears.
"Oh, Val," Wyatt laments.
Again, we embrace, our breathing in sync. I can vaguely hear the beat of his heart, I can feel the heat of his body.
Staring up at him, I decide to tell him something.
"I think you know, which one is more important to you."
"Wyatt," I whisper.
"What?"
I sniff, recalling all our moments and when thinking about that, I hesitate.
"This could potentially ruin our friendship," I think.
"But if he likes you back, then this could strengthen your bond."
"Wyatt," I repeat.
"Yes," he replies, patiently.
"I love you."
And with that, my lips are on his.
A kiss.
A kiss that completes the context of my character.
And echoes within the shattered pieces of my soul.